Fired Up

Lately, when I look out my window first thing in the morning, I’ve seen fire. Not real fire, but my crape myrtle showing its autumn colors that fill my window with blazing oranges and reds.


I’m getting fired up about writing my next novel, too. November is National Novel Writing Month—wherein folks sign up with the national headquarters and agree to turn out a 50,000 word novel in 30 days. I almost signed, but then I decided I didn’t want to be obligated to participate in the forums, e-mails, etc., that signing up entailed.

Instead, I attended the Roanoke Public Library’s version on Monday night. About twenty of us there committed to turning out our novels in a 30-dayperiod. We’ll meet periodically during the month to check progress, etc. The second meeting was tonight, but I wasn’t able to attend. I’ll go next week, though. At the end of the month, a drawing will be held for a chance to have five copies of the winner’s work printed. Printed, not actually published—so the work can still be queried, collect rejections, etc.


I wasn’t fired up about the election until it was over. Last night, I stayed up to listen to Obama’s acceptance speech and was glad I did. His speech was the best presidential message I’ve heard since John F. Kennedy’s inaugural address. His theme—“Yes, we can”—resonated with me (and apparently with everyone listening in Grant Park).

So I’m getting fired up. I’m thinking, Yes, I can crank out my YA novel if I put my mind to it. I’ve been turning the plot line over in my mind for a month, but I have little in the computer to show for it.

I’m thinking that a President who has a strong command of the English language will do wonders for the spoken word and maybe the written word.

I’m also thinking it’s really neat that the two incoming first daughters will finally get the puppy they’ve wanted for so long.

It’s nice to finally get what you want.

Or at least to get fired up about something.

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