You’re not even halfway through November, and you’re already falling behind on your Nanowrimo (National Novel Writing Month) project. How did you think you’d have time for this stupid thing, anyway? It’s clear — something’s gotta give. But what?
- Stop cleaning. Honestly, like you were anyway. And even if every surface in your home is clean enough to eat off, is a month without dusting going to kill you? I mean, OK, you might have some weird dust or mold allergy that will send you into a coughing, itchy death spiral. But wouldn’t that be more likely to affect you if you did clean?
- Stop exercising. You can work off the Nano weight next month. OK, maybe after Thanksgiving and New Year’s. But then you can work it off. Well, maybe it’s actually best if you wait until after all that Valentine’s Day chocolate because you know, you always get so much (people love you!) and it would be such a shame to let it all go to waste. There’s a chocolate shortage, you know!
- Stop cooking. This totally makes up for the lack of exercise. If you don’t eat, you won’t have to worry about weight gain! (Chocolate doesn’t count.)
- Hire that kid. You know the one. The one tagging the stop sign. Pay him $10 to take your dog for walks. He may even bring the dog back. And if he doesn’t? No more wasted writing time feeding your dog. Everyone wins. Except for the dog.
- Ignore your family. Someone has to tell you this, and it might as well be me: Your family is dragging you down. And let’s face it — you’re going to get enough family togetherness on Thanksgiving to make up for the entire month.
- Go to “work.” If you outsource your day job, you can show up to work and crank out those 1,666 words at the office, far away from all the nagging concerns of home. Like the dog. Or your family. You know, those people staying in your house, oppressing your creativity.
- Manufacture a crisis. There’s nothing like a good crisis to distract everyone’s attention while you get some work done. For example, your child/spouse/dog violates your sacred work space. Do you abandon your art to complete some odious task like acknowledging the presence of a loved one (no matter how furry)? No! Simply create a pressing emergency. For example: “Honey, your mother called, and she sounded like she was gasping for breath” or “Look, Fido — squirrel!” (Real mothers and/or rodents optional.)
Why are you still reading? Get back to work!