[Am I Crazy?]

As August winds down, and with it the last remnants of summer, only one thing is on my mind:

NaNoWriMo is coming up.

Okay, okay, in November. But a boy's gotta get a head-start on these kinds of things.

NaNoWriMo is an annual, international event that brings writers--professional and fledgling--together by forcing them to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days. For one month, disgruntled secretaries, middle-school English teachers, data entry clerks, and stay-at-home-leeches become novelists. It's a catharsis that occurs only when the participant relinquishes their social life, self-inhibitions, and sanity. Imagine fervently writing 2,000... 3,000... 4,000 words per day, whittling your brain into a novel, like a bar of soap into a crude shiv... all the while, snapping at everyone who calls your cell phone: "CAN'T TALK! NEED TEN THOUSAND MORE WORDS BY FRIDAY!"

I can't wait.

So why am I getting a "head start" on this? I need to narrow my ideas down to ONE novel (I dread the thought of what might happen if I tackle two... or three... or more... novels in one month. My brain is a primeval soup from which ideas spring like single-celled bacteria, simultaneously hopeful about their place in the universe, and hopelessly lost without nurturing.) So yeah. I have to decide what to write a novel about. I'm leaning towards werewolves in spaaaaace!

It's deeper than that, I swear.