Soldiering On

I have been away recently, adoring masses.


But now I return, and there just so happens to be triumphant sunlight shining around me as I ride down an impossibly steep slope on my conveniently white horse at the head of a whole eored of warriors.


(Lord of the Rings reference? Anyone? Bueller? Guess I have to spell this one out with a picture.)

I'm somewhere in the middle. On a conveniently white horse.

I have written the first draft of the next Great American Novel, so that's where my ostensibly boundless but actually all-too-humanly bounded creative energy has been directed. If you made it through that last sentence with your patience intact, go ahead and get yourself a congratulatory enchilada from the enchilada dispenser. I'll wait here.


I participated in NaNoWriMo this year. For you unwashed who are not privy to the secrets (and by "secrets" I mean "things which actually aren't secret at all"), NaNoWriMo is the cool people's in-slang for National Novel Writing Month. I could explain all about it, but linking to the description is much easier.


Ignore the part where it keeps harping on how terrible the finished product is. Mine isn't terrible. It has actually been called "the next Great American Novel" (DeJong, 2 Paragraphs Ago). Critics would be calling it "mindblowing" and "splendid" and "rad" and "bully" and "tearjerking" and "the potato pancake to my lobster souffle" except I haven't let them read it yet. I have to tone down the awesomeness before I let anyone read it. Also, there might be a character whose name changes a couple of times.


Anyway, that's where I've been. In all seriously, it was a great experience. My finished product is actually nowhere near "finished", but I've already started looking at it again. I have a list of immediate fixes that I need to effect, and then I'm putting it away for a month. Not going to talk about it, not going to think about it, not going to work on it. I'm going to pretend as if it never happened.


Oh, and grad school apps are in. Here's hoping someone makes a mistake and accepts me this year.


Long live the Triumphant Slope!