So. I mentioned at the dinner table tonight that Nanowrimo starts soon, and I was excited about it. Given how much it has been featuring in my mind for the last two months, I thought everyone knew I was planning on writing 50,000 words in a month.
I was in error.
It seems that given my perceived actions in May, my parents take a dim view of my writing, in this manner at least. I will point out that in May, my parents were not here. I and Courtney were running the house, and on one memorable day, Courtney was driven to tears by the craziness of the house, while on the phone to Mommy and Daddy, while I was at work. The fact that I was spending four hours a day typing was the factor attributed to the craziness. And I was banned from the computer until Pater et Mater returned.
This is ancient history, but now my delirious happiness about November has suffered a slight hiccup. I was not told not to write, or anything, but my family does not share my enthusiasm, let us say. I am a little concerned about the fact that I haven’t picked up on this before.
So November might be even more interesting then I was expecting, what with angsty novels, familial disapproval, cooking, and funerals and such.