So I'm doing this half-baked and half-arsed thing where you write a novel in a month. In a remarkably precient bit of titleage it's called National Novel Writing Month (#NaNoWriMo on Twunter). The aim is 50K words (the equivalent of 175 pages) inside a month. Piss-easy, yeah? *cough* At the start of the month I had no idea what to write about, no plot, no characters, no exposition, and above all, no time to write the fucking thing. As of Saturday morning I now have something that looks like all of the above, apart from that minor complete-absence-of-available-time thing. As of Sunday night I have the above plus about 8500 words, so I guess I'm all-in. Because it's not as though I have anything else on the horizon this month. Hmmm. Anyhoo. Might be quiet here for a bit but I'll endeavour for it not to be - also intending to keep up with the In The Worst Possible Taste updates - and will likely serialise the finished product across a couple of World of Bollocks posts for the edification of the non-paying public.
That is all. Return to your shanties.
The Doctor is OUT.
