See, it’s like this. I cranked out nine thousand words. That’s a good thing, yes. The problem is that I’m not having fun. I’m not getting anything out of it. I’m writing for the sake of generating words, not because I think I’m going to do anything with those words once I’m done.

I have nothing to prove, except possibly that 2002 wasn’t a fluke. But you know what? If that’s the only reason to do it, then it’s not a good enough reason.

What have I learned this time? I think it’s mainly that what I’m good at is dialog. I mean, c’mon. Look at my NaNo excerpts over the last, oh, two years and some-odd. It’s all dialog-driven. I suppose the difference now is that I can actually say I’m good at something without feeling like I should turn around and beat myself up about something else to make up for feeling good about myself. If that makes any sense, well, good for you.

I want to work on projects that actually have some hope of bringing me joy when I’m through. I have an AMV for which I finally came up with a solid concept about two weeks before NaNoWriMo kicked off (and so I didn’t start on it because I didn’t want to halt mid-production for a bunch of writing). There’s my videotape-to-DVD archive project to work on. There’s, oh, actually having the time to read books again.

That’s right, I selfishly have decided that I want my free time back. Ah well.

So I’m going to leave you with one final excerpt, my last NaNovel writing. Period. Enjoy?

“Good? How is this good?”

“They’re taking you seriously. And, hey, all things considered you didn’t handle yourself too badly. There’s a good chance that next time you’ll give this loser the thorough beating he so richly deserves.”

“He tore my jacket! He nearly killed me!”

I shook my head. “He didn’t as nearly kill you as you think. He just wants you to think that way so you’ll be too scared next time to do anything. Oh, and the jacket will be repaired correction, replaced, the next time you transform.”

“So, wait I read about this in my Social Studies class. It’s, ah, psychic warfare, right?”

“Psychological. But yeah. He’s psyching you out. Don’t let him.”

“Easy for you to say. Nobody shoots at the cute cuddly puppy dog.”

If she was up for cracking jokes, she was getting over the worst of her fear. “I can’t help it if I’m just too adorable, darlin’.”

“Uh huh. Whatever.”

“Seriously though, what you’ve just met is what we in the business call a ”˜lieutenant.’ He’s smarter, tougher and better dressed than the regular riff raff you’ve been facing up ”˜til now. He may even be one of the guys who summon or otherwise control those low-level creatures. Never forget, though, that they’re still just overdressed henchmen. They’re merely different faces to hide and protect your real opponent.”

“And who would that be?”

“I don’t know. You’ll meet him, or her, eventually. I suspect you’ll have to face a few of these lieutenants first.”

Lacey started to panic again. “A few! Are you serious?”

“Absolutely. Now, this guy’s a pushover. All you have to do is appeal to his vanity, and hit him when he’s distracted.”

“Uh, how do I do that?”

I cocked my head and just looked at her.

“No way!”

“He’s a boy. You’re a girl. Don’t tell me you’ve made it to fifteen years of age without knowing how to distract a boy.”

“Oh.”

“I can modify the outfit a bit if you”””

“That’s okay! I’m sure I can handle it without um”

“Revealing too much?” I suggested helpfully.

“Yeah.” Then she had a bit of an epiphany. “So, is that why they picked a girl for this job?”

“That’s part of it. There are other very good reasons, not quite so blatantly tactical. Most of them also have to do with the stereotypical differences between men and women, however.”

“I’m supposed to be all caring and nurturing and stuff.”

“Sometimes, yes. And while that’s not a guaranteed factor in any given female, it’s statistically more likely to find a girl willing to express those traits than a boy, if you don’t mind me oversimplifying what is actually a very complex and tricky bit of sociological math.”

“Uh, right.” She thought some more. “So what you want me to do is try my own kind of psychological warfare? What do you think would work better, playing weak and dumb or doing a tease?”

“Honestly? He’ll try to kill you at the first sign of weakness, this one. He’s pretty but there’s not a bone’s worth of kindness anywhere in him. His ego, however, seems to know no bounds. I bet the tease would work.”

Oddly enough, this prospect pleased Lacey immensely. “This is great! I get to flirt for the sake of humanity!”

At that moment, to tell the goddesses’ own truth, I didn’t know whether to laugh out loud or fear for the safety of the planet. “Well, if you want to look at it that way”

If you’re lucky, you won’t be subjected to any more of my attempts at creative writing. See? I’m all about the silver linings, baby.