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For the last two IWSG posts, I bemoaned my poor horror novella, the one that refuses to come out from the dark, dusty corner where it's been hiding. I managed to coax it out in time for NaNoWriMo . . . only to find that what I thought was a pretty good story was really a giant clump of grisly ideas, cracked characters and mucous-y dialogue strands that have since formed a vile puddle beneath my feet. And did I mention the various eyeballs? Some look at me with total trust, others with desperation, and still others with snide contempt.
As ugly as the little monster is, though, it is still mine. And this November, we're a team. I'm handcuffing myself to one of its many wildly gesticulating hairy arms and dragging it through NaNoWriMo-Land.
What will happen at the end of the month? Will I come back with a sweet little novella or a shiny novel holding my hand as we cross Success Street? Or will the Monster make quick work of whatever sanity I've got left and leave me behind like roadkill?
Hmm . . . maybe I'd better appoint someone to wipe up all the Monster drool. Just in case. The tortoises do like a clean blog . . . .