November has always been a strange month for me. It seems so short after the long, languid days of October. Literally, shorter with just 30 days. Each of those days shorter, too. Christmas peeks around the corner, but doesn't quite fit in... yet. Because we haven't had Thanksgiving... yet. It seems like a month of procrastination, with an enormous clock ticking in the background.
I love November because you can be in a holiday spirit without actually doing anything. It's the deep breath before the bake-a-thon. It's the calm before the crowded calendar. November is a nap.
Those of you not in the writing world might be blissfully unaware of the phenomenon known as NaNoWriMo. It's a nickname for a tortuous challenge known as National Novel Writing Month, and those who undertake the challenge slave away for thirty days and emerge with...something. I can't do that. I'm a slow, plodding, methodically insecure writer. I can't do speedy. BUT, in solidarity with my writer friends, I do my own personal NaNo. I poke my head out and blog. Every day.
Ok, everydayish.
Because it's November.
There's no pressure in November.