I had decided I was not going to participate in NaNoWriMo this year and then - flibbertigibbet that I am - I decided on the spur of the moment that I would take part. And so I am - taking part, that is.
I started last night - five days after the starting date - and I wrote one word, the title. Yes, folks, my oeuvre was to be called 'Missing.' I had no idea who or what was to be missing, for how long, or why, and whether it was ever to be found again. Would it be contemporary, historical, tragic accident or crime? I did not know - not a clue.
This morning I deleted the title and started again - well, started, really - and I've written 894 words. Only another 49106 to go and so far there's no title . . . and no end in sight. If you hear strangled screams coming from the southern part of the UK don't worry - I shall be enacting something . . . possibly.