Do you hear that? A mix of jungle drums and Jaws music, equal parts menace and madness? It starts every October, in your fingers as a tingle, travels up your arms, into your belly, and washes over your five senses like hot lava from Krakatoa.You try to fight it, act like there’s nothing wrong, but that only makes it worse. It’s as contagious as typhoid, as addictive as smoking, and as lethal to your well-planned life as a canyon wildfire. Your brain becomes a suggestion box rather than the finely-tuned instrument that speeds you through your day like the Tokyo bullet train. Now, everything is weighed against writing.
“I’ll go to the movies if I write a thousand more words…”
If it was a pet, it’d be a coral snake. If it was a vacation, it would be hell.
It’s called NaNoWriMo. Every November, over 300,000 people join together…
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The Wyrd 