Why does NaNoWriMo begin the DAY after Halloween? My kids hauled in 12 pounds of candy this year, and I’m willing to bet that at least 2/3 of that is chocolate. EIGHT POUNDS OF CHOCOLATE in the kitchen yelling at me during my writing breaks.
“When you get another cup of coffee, you really should pick up that Reece’s peanut butter cup over there. He’s making trouble for the Lemonheads.”
“Those Kit Kats are lonely. Come get them when you get up to get your phone charger.”
“Yoo hoo! There’s one Butterfinger left. You want it?”
And dadgummit if I don’t heed their siren song every time. I slowly munch my way to a stomach ache every day after Halloween until the chocolate is gone, then I might or might not hear the candy’s call after that, since hard candy doesn’t hold as much sway over the addiction center of my brain as the evil cocoa bean.
But now? When I’m adding this writing challenge to my schedule? When I *have* to sit still and type 1,667 words every day? When it’s cold and dark outside in the mornings when I try to run, but now every spare moment of November is precious because it’s time I could be, should be, writing? What happens now?
Now the darn stuff grows legs, climbs out of the giant Tupperware bowl on top of the fridge, rappels down the side of my Frigidaire, and marches over to where I sit on my ever-widening tush as I pound out words on my laptop, where the eager chocolate shucks its colorful wrapper, climbs up my numb (from typing) arms, and squeezes itself into my open mouth. Yes, I type with my mouth open. The tip of my tongue is probably hanging out, too, but I haven’t turned on the camera in my computer to check out my authorly appearance. It’s probably scary, since I’ve started waiting until after I hit my daily word quota to shower.
My point is, I am sleep-eating while wide awake. I’m write-eating. It’s Thursday night and I’ve been munching, chewing, and snacking my way through my writing tasks today. Then I topped it all off with more slices of pineapple and pepperoni pizza than I will cop to eating. All that sugary chocolate made me hungry.
So by the end of November, I will have a 50K-word book, and I will (hopefully) not have a matching weight gain.
Blech. I think I need some Whoppers to get the taste of pizza out of my mouth.