The Resolution Revolution
Have you heard of NANOWRIMO? It’s the silly acronym for the National Novel Writing Month website. The idea is that every participant attempts to write a 50,000 word novel during the month of November. From their About section:
Valuing enthusiasm and perseverance over painstaking craft, NaNoWriMo is a novel-writing program for everyone who has thought fleetingly about writing a novel but has been scared away by the time and effort involved.
Because of the limited writing window, the ONLY thing that matters in NaNoWriMo is output. It’s all about quantity, not quality. The kamikaze approach forces you to lower your expectations, take risks, and write on the fly.
Make no mistake: You will be writing a lot of crap. And that’s a good thing. By forcing yourself to write so intensely, you are giving yourself permission to make mistakes. To forgo the endless tweaking and editing and just create. To build without tearing down.
Wow, blockquotes work weird with pictures.
Anyway, they go on, describing their vision, but I’m bothered that you never see a disclaimer. “NaNoWriMo: Pushing people towards disillusionment because they can’t even follow through on writing ‘crap.'”
Oh to be sure, there are some that finish writing their crap. 12,959 of 79,896 people over the past four years, if my non-scientific tabulating of their authors page is correct. That’s 66,937 failures, though, or about an 84% failure rate.
I’ll bet that’s on par with your typical New Year’s resolutions.

I’ve got a nasty bruise on my left palm, just below the index finger. The tendons in my hand and wrist ache like previously-broken bones warning of a change in weather. My right thumb is developing a callous. Oksana bought me a PlayStation 2 with
“I hate to write; I like to have written.”
ACS is pissing me off.
After Thanksgiving, our flight from Ketchikan to Juneau was delayed by mechanical troubles. Our Alaska Airlines jet pulled back from the gate on time, but during the pilots’ preflight check at the end of the runway, some sort of fuel valve indicator light wouldn’t turn off. The pilot informed us that it was likely just a problem with the light, not the fuel value itself, but at the very least we’d need to return to the gate so that the mechanic could fill out the appropriate paperwork.Back at the gate, we discovered that the mechanic had already gone home for the night. Makes sense, really. It was 9pm, and the last flight had already left the