Birth of a crazy—I mean novel

I’m typing my little fingers off over here because I’m working on too many things all at once. For Birth of a Novel, my goals were to meet my word counts. Check! For my dissertation, my goals were—you know, it’s pretty boring to read about how I set some goals and made them. No one wants to read about how I’m a goody-two shoes who’s learned over the years that either I make my goals, or I don’t.

But my guess is that most people don’t have an almost 4 year old singing about the coming apocalypse. Yeah, my family is known for overachievers.

See, my daughter has been learning Christmas carols. Sweet mother of science, why didn’t someone warn me about Christmas carols? I should have remembered, after all, I was a prime offender in my youth. I guess I’d just forgotten. But the problem is that she’s still a kid with a bit of a speech impediment (they all grow out of them).

But until she grows out of it she sings “Joy to the world, the warg has come.”

The Warg.

You know, the Warg:

How’s your November going? Preparing for the invasion of family or on the side of the invaders? Good luck one way or the other, and for those of you in writer’s bliss (or hell depending) To NANO!