. . . And I’m not talking Halloween (which, by the way, I have not one, but TWO costumes for; on Saturday, I’m heading to a party with my pal Liz Maverick, and will be dressed as Bea Arthur‘s Maude, which only takes me making my hair gray somehow, since I already have the loud ’70s clothing. Then on Sunday, my son is a samurai, so I’m borrowing a Japanese geisha type top from Liz and will be making myself even whiter than usual in a vague attempt to match him).

No. I am admitting that, for the first time, I’ve signed on to participate in NaNoWriMo, the month-long write 50K words in 30 days event. Why? Why would I do such a thing? Peer pressure. And not even pressure; my friend Kwana said she was gonna, and why didn’t I? Not really pressure so much as a simple question.

So I joined up. And am hoping not to disgrace myself and fail utterly at the task. I already know I won’t write fifty thousand words, but I am hoping the competition will get me to the keyboard rather than waving my hand and saying, ‘why bother?’

I am competitive, in an odd way, and if I know other people are suffering with their word counts it’ll make me feel better (very sschadenfreude-y of me, but I admit my faults).

Plus a newly-made friend (at RWA, but she lives here in Park Slope) told me there are NaNoWriMo write-ins in my neighborhood, so maybe I can go hang out with other sufferers at some point. Whee!

Are you good with deadlines? Do you like the pressure? Do you hate them? How do you force yourself to get things done on time?