Or maybe Ahab is a better moniker.

It could be among the most ridiculous of ways to begin a writing pursuit… but I want to write about something else.

In ten days the last day of October will be upon us. Halloween is a great day to dress up and pretend to be something other than yourself. And the thirty-first of October is a prelude of preparation for a month-long of days in which to write something other than what’s real.

And frankly I’ve been trapped in the house for too many days now that the notion of spending some of those days penning a draft of a novel is starting to sound like a day off.

National Novel Writing Month (or NaNoWriMo) is how many aspiring authors spend their November days, hunched over keyboards dribbling amature fiction into their computers.

In the past decades I have attempted this November game multiple times, succeeded (in that I reached the fifty-thousand word finish line) thrice, and never once regretted the effort.

And yet, success is a poor descriptor.

If the attempt is to write a novel, and the purpose of the novel is be published and read, then a novel is but my white whale. Pursued. Obsessed upon. Entranced to self-destruction in that attempt but to write.

Call me Ahab.

In ten days I’ll be putting fingers to keyboard and writing once again with a singular goal of crossing the fifty-thousand word finish line before the end of November. And as I begin that dark and possibly fraught writing pursuit, I also write about something else.

Right here.

For what it’s worth, this new blog is another in a long list, a collection of thoughts and therapy, a few paragraphs gurgled into the deep blue ocean of ideas and creativity, a writers blog. I’ll write fiction over there… and everything else here.


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