It's that time again. Time to bust out the notecards, stock up on coffee and Jameson, and warn those who usually share your physical space that things are 'bout to get weird between you and your word processor. Bolt down the restraints, set out the typo blindfold, and get used to calling your capricious muse "Sir" (or "ma'am" or "Master Hiddleston", you know, whatever), because you are about to enter the role of literary masochist.
National Novel Writing Month is here.
Overwrought metaphor aside, are you participating in NaNoWriMo? Add me!