The goal for me and thousands of other novelists around the world, is to write 50,000 words by the end of November. Now, I may joke about it, saying the words don't have to be in order, or that you can use only small ones, but the fact is, once I get going, I can't stop.
Here it is the 13th and I have over 54,000 words written. My story is nowhere near complete. I still have a main character to kill, a moving scene to describe and my hero to leave in a situation that touches the soul and brings a tear to the eye.
Every year I begin the same way, with some half-baked idea that I'm not really sure of, one that makes me wish I had read more books about writing, had read all those sites I bookmarked with tips about character development and plot outlining. Every year, I start each day writing 1100 words before lunch, often in my PJs. (Just kidding, I don't have any PJs.)
Every year I find myself in the pickle of sitting back, looking at the last chapter I wrote and wondering, "What in the world happens next?"
Yet, inexplicably, every year, I end up with a finished novel. I edit over December and January, have a few friends read it and do what I can to re-write it into a really good novel.
Three of those years I wrote a conspiracy theory series. The fourth year I wrote a sci-fi about a quake on Mars that reveals something in the red dirt. Last year, I had a police detective buying a DVD from the $2 bin and discovering that it was exactly like the case he was working on. That was fun to write.