It was a crazy thing to decide to do: to write a novel in 30 days. I'm in the middle of a non-fiction project, the holidays are coming, and work is stacked up like planes at O'Hare Airport. But the idea of sitting down and powering out a book just wouldn't go away. In the newspaper that morning was a headline about a club that made me laugh out loud. Then, a first line came to me that night as I lay in bed. I couldn't stop thinking about that line, about that ridiculous club. I told myself to get back to work that would help pay the bills and not some frivolous writing project. But I couldn't.
I thought about characters for the book on my run. I named them as I did the dishes. Finally, I apologized in advance to my husband for the hours I would spent writing in the garage and started to type. 9,000 words so far, and counting. I'm having a wonderful time.