Last year my novel started out being a set of connected and humorous short stories about the library I used to work at. Then that got boring and I wasn’t working fast enough so zombies attacked the library. Then about a third of the way through I couldn’t take the word limit requirements and it turned into ridiculous stream of consciousness where I talked about everything from what I had dreamed the night before to how I feel about flying squirrels. In hundreds of years they will probably find it and be so confused they will have no choice but to turn it into a holy book and start worshiping its bad syntax.

This year I made a vow that I would hold off stream of consciousness for as long as possible. However, it’s November 10th and I only have 13,868 words. By the end of today I should have 16,670. Yeah, right. Not when I am also trying to write final papers for grad school, thanks.

To say that I have upheld my vow and completely stayed on track would also not be completely accurate. Sure, I have stuck with a story and not started rambling about my personal life yet, but it only took about four days for that story to veer dramatically from semi-serious psychological study of realistic characters to TIME TRAVELING ALIENS ARE ATTACKING; ONLY YOU CAN SAVE MANKIND. I assume this switch was inevitable. Also, it is only November 10th. There are 20 more days left. I predict I would be stream of consciousnessing to make Faulkner proud by the end of this week.