Saturday was writing, then meeting up with local National Novel Writing Month people at Organ Stop Pizza in Mesa. I fell in love with the place almost on sight. It has a very delightful feel to it, despite the clerk who I think was trying to short-change me. (I didn't let that happen. I said, "I'm confused. I gave you X, the price was Y, and you gave me Z?" and all was (eventually) fixed.) But the dinner was great fun, my characters ran amok while I took notes, and I got 3,200-odd words down. It's not all good days. There are some very bad ones.
I went through Target and rolled will saves against a stunning array of unnecessary impulsive purchases, and made a mental wish list on some others not quite so silly. They have light-up stockings now. That's a silly one. Also, I'm not sure whether a stocking with an initial on it should be J, A, or L. I answer to all three. There was a wee line out front, and it had gotten longer by the time I started for home.
I stayed up very late hanging out on IRC and catching up with stuff. I did laundry!
cadhla mentioned in her commentary about NaNo that the 1,667 words a day pace is something that a professional novelist might be expected to maintain. You know, someone whose "day job" is writing novels. Of course, the words might be more carefully crafted, and would have to be edited and carefully checked for continuity and all those fun things, but it's a level of writing that the casual hobbyist shouldn't feel bad about not being able to maintain for 30 days straight. But I've established to myself that I can do it, back in 2004, and so while I am determined that I can do it and will do it this year, if I manage to miss it and fall short of the 50,000 come the end of November, I'll still have another valiant try to my experience, and I will have a decent first draft to do things with. There are advantages to having a determined writer roommate, and one of those advantages is that if I do not start a) polishing stuff to submit around, and b) actually submitting it, hcolleen will hit me on the head with the 2007 Writer's Market. She did not say so literally, but I know her, and yes, she will.
I didn't get much sleep. Then I went to B&N for the Sunday thing, after getting stuff on the computer cleaned up enough to shut down. (Rather a lot of stuff to put where it belonged. That takes so much longer than I think...) I didn't get my usual vast amounts of writing done, and was antsy and itchy. We all decamped sooner than we might have. I stopped to grab dinner, then I came home. hcolleen and I watched Episode 9 of Bleach. There was giggling and gasping from me.
I wrote. I did not write as many words as I should, but I did write a lot, and I started off something that I did not know where was going with the phone call. And things worked themselves out from there.
Then I hung out on IRC and read X-Files fic, because I was too tired to move. I've been feeling curiously empty, as well as absolutely gleefully hyper. hcolleen says it is not mania, because mania is irritable. This book just puts me in a very good mood. But I have little time to myself, and I fear the crash. But I finally feel like a real writer again.
Now, I am going to bed. Goodnight, moon.