Learning to let go.

This is November. National Novel Writers Month. I didn't even pretend to write a novel this time. I usually can grind our 1500 to 2000 words a day for the first five days or so. Then I fall to reality, the dog needs played with, the net needs surfed. There's housework I've neglected for eleven months that can't wait another damn minute. Anything but sit down to that accursed word processor and kick out a measly five and a half words a minute for roughly six hours a day, over the whole month. I have a half dozen stories screaming to be let loose. A scam artist, turned knight errant, rescuing a former maiden, pursuing a noble quest, but this can't be a swords and sorcery fantasy, for it takes place in the early 21st century! Hell I even have an idea to combine the stories. That would require me to sit still, putting words into computer memory, until I got a minimum of 50,000 words before November 30th.