NaNoWriMo 2007: Day 11 – Where are all the words?

How Not To Grow A Beard: Day 11
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Hey, wasn’t I writing a novel or something? What happened to that, anyway?

Yeah, I took a few days off to attend Con on the Cob 2007 in lovely Akron, Ohio. I had a lot of fun, got to do some gaming, purchased some dice (nerd!) and a piece of artwork and pre-ordered a fantasy novel. I also interviewed some very interesting people, including legendary fantasy illustrator Larry Elmore.

But I didn’t write. Well, not my novel. I wrote about 1,800 words about a game of The Savage World of Solomon Kane one day and blogged at length about the convention, but unfortunately not a word of it counts toward the 50,000 I need to have written in just over two weeks.

This should be interesting.

3 thoughts on “NaNoWriMo 2007: Day 11 – Where are all the words?”

  1. Well, perhaps if you actually sit down and write what you’re supposed to be writing . . . hee hee.

    Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, Kris is a very bright little boy but he has trouble focusing in class. He’s very easily distracted. I recommend that you beat the tar out of him or he will be like this forever.

  2. I do lack focus, that much is certain. I tend to refer to myself as a “Geek Dilettante” for that very reason.

    Alas, the beatings I received as a child don’t seem to have helped, though I’m almost positive that none of them were ever administered for the purpose of correcting that particular condition.

  3. That’s the thing about the childhood beatings. They were so RANDOM, ha ha.

    Lord knows we gave our parents reason enough to discipline us. It didn’t result in a beating but I’ll never forget riding home in a car one day and I must have been in the front seat between my parents. My mother looked around. I couldn’t see what was going on in the backseat but we had just gotten a little kitty from somewhere and my brothers were back there holding it. All I heard was my mother suddenly yell in a horrified voice: “Don’t twist the kitty’s head like that!”

    It’s amazing our parents let us live. Perhaps that was their greatest punishment . . .

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