7 days. 17,864 words. Something between 9 and 14 cups of green tea.

The novel is born.

How am I, you ask? Still alive (and typing! See? Look at me go!). A little worse for wear, since I’ve been getting most of each day’s word count in between midnight and one o’clock in the morning. And still keeping up with my regular schedule. Hence the protective attitude toward tea. A little stressed here and there, a narrow escape of a panic attack. But most of the negative has to do with my life in reality. Not the novel that I’m using to escape.

The writing itself hasn’t been too difficult. I decided to write something of a sequel to my first NaNo project. About twenty years prior, set in the same weird and wonderful steampunky world of fantasy and cryptids and royal courts and hard-packed dirt roads.

Remarkably, we haven’t encountered a single dragon yet.

Wouldn’t have thought that.

There have been moments where I’ve been holding my breath. When I haven’t a clue which way to go. I sort of hate my opening and have avoided rereading it just yet. But I think that’s part of the adventure. To feel the rush and thrill, the possibility that always comes with a challenge you really want to win.

And the best part is that I’ve given myself permission, in this challenge, in this steampunky world, to write anything I want to. Anything. There are always the rules of the world when you write–shy characters can’t fly off the handle every two chapters without explanation, gravity is still in operation on earth, unless it’s urban fantasy the unicorn shouldn’t have that smartphone thank you very much. But at least to some degree, I am ignoring them. I’m making my own rules. And breaking them.

As long as you love it, the only real rule is write.

It’s not too late to join the madness! Or at least see what all your sleep-deprived writer friends are gushing about: https://nanowrimo.org/.