I’d give an able-bodied ghost all my index cards with those nifty colored dots and bring it cookies straight out of the oven, sprinkled with cinnamon … since I wouldn’t be glued to my seat and I’d have all that free time to tickle my savior’s taste buds. Anything to nourish its spirit, to sustain its willingness to meet my 50K deadline. Of course, I’d be there all the way.  Just not on the hot seat. My ghost would be the one almost over-powered by the brutal moments of truth when ideas that once sparkled on index cards start twitching helplessly on the computer screen.  … facing the...

When I was writing my first Nanowrimo, back in 2008, I was informed that one of my characters needed to take a fall.  It was a week before Thanksgiving and my characters were pretty much running the show.  I was about 35,000 words along, no outline, and my word count was healthy … but suddenly gusts of inspiration were wandering around too far overhead to find my screen. Oh, why had I decided to wing it? All my pals with their sturdy outlines next to their keyboards were marching ahead, pursuing their master plans. Their October prepping was paying off, while my messy inspirational index cards...