The Novel Thing

This is my first time attempting to write a novel, what with the NaNoWriMo and all. I've been having delusions about how days off can be made up, and the more you take, the further of course you are from what you've created. But this isn't necessarily a bad thing for me: I was able to take early morning clarity and sort of many, many untold problems with a fresh eye, and that's recharged my word count mojo.

For example, my story is set around three different families, but I haven't anchored down when exactly it takes place. I'm thinking sort of now, but closer to the late 1990s. Big difference when it comes to cultural references. I'm trying to just avoid those altogether, or mentions of changing technological variables like cell phones, computers and the like. Nope, just skip it for now. My families seem to have a lot of kids (they're all loosely varying shades of Catholic) and I've had a hard time keeping track of whose child is which age, and are they the losers or over-achievers of the family dynamic?

This morning I created a separate document to keep track of the new people who fill my brainspace these days. Their ages, likes, dislikes, and past experiences are knitting themselves together in a sloppy way. I have no idea what's going to happen to them; I'm taking the more automatic writing approach, and just hoping for the best. To the NaNoNaysayers out there, I say Mind Your Own Business and get busy with your own lives. To the compadres, I raise a virtual drink. To my fingers, I promise to crack you and stretch you and to my eyes, I promise to look out the window in the distance, de-blurring you in the high hopes of the next stretch. Moving into 8,000 territory, can I do it?