Four weeks of laundry -- check.
Four weeks of clutter -- check.
Two weeks of dishes -- check.
Two weeks of take-out meals when the dishes ran out -- check.
Four weeks of unpaid bills -- check. (is in the mail.)
Three nights with more than ten hours of sleep -- check.
One apology to supervisor for lost productivity -- check.
Resume regular blogging activity -- check!
All right. It took me a week, but it looks like I've successfully recovered from another wonderful NaNoWriMo November. It was a wonderful month, when long-forgotten plot points seem to resurface at just the right time to almost look intentional, and when characters launch into rants and observations that manage to crystallise what you've been thinking about for weeks. It's also a time when I get to write about a giant monster walking over a strip mall, its roof supporting the behemoth's weight as well as a thick crust of snow would, before it finally gives way. The ending may have been a tad videogamey (hit the weak point for massive damage, etc.), but so long as I didn't have to involve more giant monsters, nuclear drill bits, the power of love, or "oxygen destroyers", I think I held my weight against the originals. If anyone wants to read a copy, send me a message, and let me know whether you'd prefer the rough draft with all its blemishes, or if you'd rather wait for a slightly edited (i.e. half as lengthy) version.
I've been doing NaNoWriMo for five years now, and it's incredible how much of a social event it's become. For instance, check my Facebook profile, and you'll see a video of me at the Edmonton wrap-up party, phonetically reciting a typographical slaughterhouse. The audience is in stitches, but it's not because they're laughing "at", or even "with" the excerpt. Each and every one of those authors is laughing with each other. Who would have guessed that Edmonton would mean more to me now than it did when I lived there?
It got me thinking, though, that I haven't visited Regina since April. So, I threw out an e-mail, asking who was going to be in town next weekend. One response I got said, "Why, are you coming home for a visit?"
Note the wording there. You can hang your hat wherever you wish... but when your friends tell you you're home, you're home.
And if that wasn't proof enough, I got another response asking me if I wanted to join in on a 2nd edition AD&D campaign that weekend. Let us not squabble over the merit of such an offer -- the fact that such an invitation was even made is proof enough that a piece of me will always be stuck in a snowdrift on Grant Road.
It's going to be a grand December.