I am a slow writer. I am always astounded by people who say they write a draft in a month, or even in two months. I placate myself by saying such drafts must not be very good. Otherwise I think I would completely despair, close the laptop permanently, and take up life as a pig farmer. When I write, I open my files, and my characters stare at me from the page patiently waiting for stage directions. I give them setting, and they tap their feet. I give them description, and they cross their arms. I say, “What do you want me to do? You’re the character! Do something! Make some plot happen!” Meanwhile, my characters look at their nails, stifle a yawn, and reply, “You’re the writer. What do you want me to do?” This continues until I’m so disheartened that I skip to the end and take a cue from Scarlett O’Hara. I’ll think about the middle tomorrow. So the whole concept of NaNoWriMo has always smacked of insanity to me. It seems as if you’re just setting yourself up ...