On the almost-eve of NaNoWriMo, I am reconsidering my topic (and characters and all associated details). I am already annoyed with my original idea and I haven’t even started writing yet. Not a good way to start out.
The outline I have now is a comfortable coming-of-age story that mirrors my own experience with moving from small-town Midwestern life to the Silicon Valley. Finding out that the Olive Garden wasn’t fine dining. Working with people from all over the world. Paying excessively for everything. My first experience with Japanese food (still can’t eat it, 11 years later). Trying to decide if I should stay in California or return home to continue my less-technical career as a flannel-wearing writer for a low-budget publication.
I was looking forward to writing about the weirdos I shared a house with and my cat who regularly launched herself across the room to bite my roommates for no obvious reason. I thought that writing this story might help me flesh out some of the paths-not-taken and also allow me to recapture some of those (wacky) experiences.
But, eh. The story sounds like me. And I’m darn boring. Maybe this is my chance to write something completely outside of my safety zone. I will have to sleep on it (and quickly – we’re at T minus 26 hours until the novel-writing begins).