I'm really courting burn-out here. I've written almost every single night, and for the last four or five days, I've exceeded my 2,000-words-a-day goal by at least 200%. I just couldn't do it tonight. 2,500 words, which brings me 500 words shy of 40k. Almost four-fifths of the way there. I can't say this year's Nanowrimo has opened up new doors of creativity for me. To be perfectly honest, I think the quality of my prose has plunged a good six or seven years' worth of maturity. But I admit it's because I'm writing out of my comfort zone. No self-absorbed psycho-babble this year. No, I must tell a STORY. But to be even more honest, the only reason I've been pushing myself so hard is because I want to beat Connecticut so bad. We are the underdog state here: 65 participants to their 99. They're at least 100,000 words ahead of us, last census, but we've managed to stay within that range for a while. That means our fewer writers are really churning out those words. Some of us are writing upwards of 7,000 words a day. In order to truly appreciate that, one must realize 2,000 words is about ten typed, double-spaced pages. 2,000 words is my average daily goal--just enough to get me to 50k by midnight Dec. 1. Now, 7,000 words calculates to 25 typed, doubled-spaced pages, and there are actually people in this deliriously crazed event who average that amount each day. How do they do it? Or...How do they do it and still manage to reserve enough brain power to feed themselves and wipe their own bottoms? I've already decided, next year, I'm going nuts with my novel. Between now and then, I'll come up with a theme that will do anything but allow me to construct a comprehensive plot. It will be such a bag of mixed nuts, I won't be able to help but throw caution to the wind and write free-associative to my heart's content. Maybe I'll even title it, The Worst Novel EVER Written, or My Name's Not Marjorie Mockernut.