Nanowrimo is on a few short weeks away. So the hunt is on for a plot. In the meantime, I've started setting up the blockades for my schedule. I've also ordered a new TWSBI 540 fountain pen and brown ink to complement my writing experience this year. Last Nanowrimo was tough for me, so this year I'm trying to give myself every excuse to succeed.
I was thinking today about how writing has become a November tradition in my household. On November 1, my wife and I along with my ten-year-old sit down to write a book. Our seven-year-old might join us this year as well. The five-year-old has one or two more years ahead of her. But nearly every night you can find us all hunkered down over steaming cups of coffee or tea, in front of the fire, listening to music and scribbling or typing away.
I hope that my children carry on this tradition when they grow up. The creative energy we all get from it is such a high that I imagine they will. It's funny, but it is always around this time of the year that I remember how much I want to be a writer. I remember how much I love to write. How much I love stories. How many there are to tell. And how important they are to the human experience.
I guess that's another reason that Autumn feels like a new beginning for me, unlike the Spring which just feels like oppression on the horizon. Off to hunt down that illusive plot.
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