Writing Myself Into A Corner

Last year was the first year I had heard of NaNoWriMo - I'm not sure if I just have been living under a rock or what exactly the problem was. Regardless, I really wanted to participate last year, but my inner logistician took over and reminded me of the homework that I would have and how utterly and absolutely ridiculous it would be to even think about adding something like that to my plate at that point in time. As it turned out, this was wise of me, if disappointing, because last year my fall classes were very time intensive.

This year as I pondered the homework requirements generated by my course load and realized that, yes indeed, there were many fewer drains on my time as far as homework goes this semester (owing almost entirely to the fact that neither of my current professors are discussion fanatics. I tell you, the discussion portion of an online class, done properly, can be an incredibly rich learning tool. Done poorly? It's an incredible exercise in busy work that sucks up every spare moment of your life reading and researching and responding to other people's posts.) So I decided to jump on in, because, in the immortal words of Tim, "What could possibly go wrong?"

So all through October I had an item on my to-do list that read something along the lines of: Plot for NaNo! Because all stories must have a plot and it's helpful to know, at least generally, what that plot is before sitting down and tappety tappeting at your keyboard. Or at least so thought I based on any previous undertakings to write anything. (I have, in fact, a notebook nearly half full of various plot ideas in various states of fleshing out. Where that notebook is has become a question for the ages. One that haunts me in the middle of the night these days.) I never quite managed to get around to that to-do list item.

And then it was November. And the days were ticking by and I knew that I must write, and write quickly, and write now, if I was to achieve anywhere near the 50,000 word goal that the program set before us. So I started writing, promising myself that I would take time to plot soon - very soon.

I am now just shy of 30,000 words. I still have no idea where this thing is going. I have, in fact, been forced to kill off several characters because they were there, they were in peril, but I had no earthly idea why they had ever even stepped onto the pages of this...monstrosity in the first place. (The deaths have, at least, been creative and cathartic. So that's something, right?) And now, just now in fact, I have written my main character into such a perilous situation that has one very ridiculous solution. The only other alternative being to kill her off.

Call me crazy, but I don't think you can kill off the main character. At least not in what would be, roughly, the first quarter to half of the story.

Which leaves me with ridiculous.

So ridiculous, in fact, that I'm fighting the urge to insert a narrator who can let us know that, "Wesley does not die at this time."

And honestly, if one more character chews nervously on their lower lip there are going to be some serious consequences.