be afraid. be very afraid.

Sign-ups for NaNoWriMo begin tonight, and I'll be a first-time participant this year. I try to tell myself, "50,000 words in a month? Pthhh. No problem."

After all, that's only...you know...a little under 2,000 words per day. I mean, what could go wrong?


Other writers I know have done this, so I take heart in that. It will be a nice boost to my segue into writing for the Young Adult market anyway, since 50K is a respectable word count for YA/Middle Grade books.

In other news, hop on over to my friend T's blog and congratulate her on her GAZILLIONTH (or maybe it's the fourth with a deal for the fifth as well? Seems more like a gazillion from where I sit) novel to be published in Spring of '09.

This woman was my office mate in graduate school, hailing all the way from Vermont. I remember hearing about her first published book when I was pregnant with my first kid. It would have been a lasting case of professional jealously (rather than a relatively brief case) if she wasn't such a dad-gummed nice, lovely person in addition to being a kick-*ss writer. Not fair, but there you have it. (Oh, did I mention her photography? Seriously, don't hate her for being beautiful OR talented. She's way too nice for that.) If you haven't read her other books, such as Undressing the Moon and Breathing Water, I highly recommend them.

Way to go, T!!!!!Follow @nicole_mcinnes

where no one can hear you scream

Back in December I started writing a series of "Miss Lists" - lists of things I was going to miss when we left California. Well, one of the many things NOT on those lists was the congestion, and I don't mean the nasal kind (Actually, I was plagued much less by sinus issues there than I am here. I'm sure it's humidity-related).

Here on the prairie we live about half a mile from a federally-protected bird sanctuary. We are surrounded by - oh, I don't know how many acres; thousands, I think - of US Forest Service land. Jackie would probably know. You have to drive over four miles of rugged cinder road to get to our house. This morning, my son looked out the kitchen window while eating his oatmeal and spotted a herd of antelope running across the prairie.

So, you would think we'd have a little privacy, no?

You would be wrong.

Last night there was a knock on the door. It was an elderly woman who told me she had enough cooked rice in her car to feed twenty-five people, and she'd gotten lost on her way to the party somewhere in the wilds of our subdivision. I looked outside to make sure that her serial killer accomplice wasn't hiding somewhere with an axe and then invited her in to use our phone. This morning I was on my way out to feed the horses in my pink cherry jammies and pink parka (I look like the Abominable Snowman after he's OD'd on Pepto Bismol in this getup, but it's comfortable). I had to jump back through the front door, however, when I realized that there was a pickup truck in our driveway, out of which had appeared two large, rugged-looking men. They were here from Norton Environmentals to deliver our trash/recycling can. Finally, they left, and I got done feeding. No sooner had I come back into the house and taken off my coat, hat and gloves, than I heard a "beep-beep" out front. It was the FedEx guy. I poked my head out the door as he approached with a promising-looking package. "I'm sorry I can't come out to meet you," I said, "but I'm still in my jammies." Turned out he also had the wrong address.

Last month my husband came home with the new Ruger Vaquero, which is pretty cool. Mama's back in the country and this time she's packin' heat. Unfortunately, all the strangers who show up at our door unannounced keep me way too busy to actually get to where we keep the gun, should one of those visitors turn out to be Freddy Kruger.

I see it's time to start another list of things I miss about California. Number one: the peace and quiet.Follow @nicole_mcinnes