So here I am, sitting day after day in this cold, dark and sweat-infested room, typing like a raving lunatic. My fingers are worked to the bone (literally) and my wrists are threatening to fall off if pain relieving salve is applied soon. My beard has grown out fully, and I have an annoying strand of hair that keeps stabbing at my eye, howling at me for not bathing for the last thirteen days. I eat whatever I can find, whether it's a can of sweetcorn, or a four-day-old pizza crust. My Smirnoff has just ran out, and I'm moving on to the last bit of milk in my fridge. My supplies are running low, but fortunately I can survive on water, and a single peace of bread a day - seriously. As I am typing this journal, the family of rats I have learned to love over the past week, are moving out because of malnourishment. I had offered to give them the little lip-balm I have left, but they ran away as they saw my rotten teeth. my contact lenses have dried out, so I had to return to my old pair of glasses, which, fortunately aren't in any bit of devious condition, yet.

Okay, in all seriousness there are always a light at the end of well, most tunnels, My word count is slowly nearing the twenty-five-thousand mark, and my novel is well on its way. The only setback being finals -- but that will be out of the way come Monday, as I'll be free to write much more, and get that word count skyrocketing to the fifty-thousand mark. Up until recently, I've been either a few hundred words up to date, but today's test managed to put me three hundred below the daily milestone. So that kind of crushed my already beat up, and broken mind even more. But I shall stand and fight, as I'm planning to reach Sunday's milestone by tomorrow night. (I think I may need to pull an all-nighter.)

But anyway, this journal has already taken a few hundred words from my already set-back novel, and my broken fingers need to get at it again before I remember that pain is bad.

This was merely a shout out to all the fellow NaNoWriMo's writing this month, and doing their best to survive through the thirty-day madness that is writer's way of life.

Write neatly, sinfully and most of all... who am I kidding? go mad - write your heart out. December is for revision.

Love, Ed