Tokyo Red Eye - What we can learn from a night flight to Japan

Years ago, when I was more readily able to fly around the world at the drop of a hat (not that I took advantage of it very often), I flew to Japan to visit two friends who were teaching English. One friend was in the heart of Tokyo, and the other was living a somewhat lonelier existence farther south in Marugame, Kagawa, the home of most of Japan’s fan (uchiwa) production and the tastiest soba noodles I have ever encountered.

In order to add a visit with a friend teaching in England on my way back, I had to fly the same route both ways, starting with an Atlantic crossing from Toronto’s Pearson Airport to Heathrow airport, in London, England. The second leg consisted of an overnight flight across Europe and Asia to Narita Airport, near downtown Tokyo.

My trip came upon me much faster than I’d intended, lost as I was in the flurry of activity required to meet a story-board deadline… which I didn’t quite make, sadly. I’m not sure the director has ever forgiven me. But the result of all this work was a number of late-night work fests and a final all-nighter, right before I was due to leave. I hadn’t left my apartment yet but after being up for about 36 hours straight I had taken care of that nasty jet lag all on my own!

I dropped off my board, then rushed home, threw clothes in a suitcase and hurried to the airport to catch my plane. By the time I got through customs and checked my bags I had pretty used up any reserves of energy I had left after my extended deadline push of the days preceding my trip.

The flight to England was about eight hours, and I tried to roll up a jacket for a headrest and push my seat back to get some shuteye. It was then that I discovered the main drawback to British Airways’ vaunted service… it never stops. I was seated on the aisle and was consistently interrupted with offers of tea (always yes), snacks (always no) , meals, magazines, blankets and headphones. And when the hyper efficient staff wasn’t offering me yet another creature comfort, the other people in my aisle were squeezing past me to use the facilities.

Suffice to say, I got very little sleep in my up and down, upright position and was one groggy, bleary-eyed world traveler as we touched down at Heathrow for my five- hour stopover. It was then that I discovered that Heathrow is, indeed, the world’s most expensive airport. A single cup of coffee and a scone cost me over13 pounds! Holy %$#!!!

So I was 46 hours awake and dead on my feet when I finally boarded my night flight to Tokyo, which was to take something like 11 hours. Thank heavens this flight seemed more conducive to napping. There was some actual legroom to stretch out my gams, and they had dimmed the lights to create a pleasantly soothing, sleep-supporting atmosphere for me and all the Japanese travelers surrounding me. I managed to score two blankets so I could roll one up to support my neck.

Sadly, I had officially passed exhaustion and was well into my “too tired to shut my brain off” stage. So I simply closed my eyes and tried to fool my whirling brain into thinking it might actually be drifting into slumber. The wonderful thing about the flight to Japan was the fact that a number of the meal options were delicious Bento boxes, much like those available on the Shinkansin bullet trains that link Japan’s islands at super speed.

My body was thrilled to be facing real food as opposed to the vacuum-packed muffins and plains sandwiches at Heathrow. By now I had not only crossed several time zones, I had passed the 50-hours-awake mark, and I needed all the nutrition I could get. I was lost in the pleasant stupor of dinnertime, smelling the aromas and thinking about, well… not thinking at all, actually. That’s a polite way of saying I was completely exhausted and my brain was pretty much flat-lining by now.

As I sat with my dinner in front of me I felt a tug at my sleeve.

Across the aisle and one row back, a Japanese man was holding out his plastic-wrapped knife, fork and napkin combination with a supportive smile on his face. "Mistah! Hey Mistah! You use!" He smiled at me and shook the utensils.

I smiled and shook my head back, thinking, "He must think I'm some kind of silly Gaijin who can't use chopsticks." But the man, and his wife beside him, kept trying to foist their spare utensils on me. After all, what did they need with silly Western knives and forks?

As the pair continued to plead with me to take their cutlery I felt myself growing more insulted. It was pretty rude of them to assume I couldn't handle chopsticks on my own just because I'm not Japanese. I smiled as graciously as I could muster and shook my head "No" a final time. Then I indignantly turned back in my seat. Seriously, the nerve of those two, right? After much shifting in my chair in a losing effort to make myself more comfortable, I finally settled down with my meal.

Then I looked down at my tray…. and at my hands.

And all was revealed.

I suddenly realized that while I had picked up the chopsticks I had not yet taken a bite. And all this time, my slack fingers, barely holding the chopsticks upright, had been listlessly dragging the chopsticks back and forth across my plate. Back and forth. Back and forth. Baaaaack and forth. It was quite hypnotic to watch, actually.

I had not picked up a single grain of rice.

I had not lifted a single morsel of teriyaki salmon to my mouth.

It had been not doing all of that utterly independent of my conscious brain.

Back and forth. Back and forth. It was still happening.

And I had no idea how long I've been doing this.

That poor man and his wife had been watching me fail to take a single bite of my much-needed nourishment for who knows how long until they were finally driven to their cross-cultural mission of mercy! Would no one give this poor, idiot, western man a knife and fork?

I surreptitiously placed my fingertips on my food, taking a quick temperature to help me determine how long my hands had been making a fool of the rest of me. The food was still lukewarm, which meant, thank God, that I likely had not been making my sweeping motion for more than, oh, ten minutes or so.

For some unknown reason, that gave me a feeling of quiet dignity.

I gathered myself, mustering all the willpower at my command and stared at my hands, ordering them to clench around the damn chopsticks. With intense effort I managed to steady my hand somewhat and position my fingers correctly. Shakily, I directed my wooden utensils toward the salmon. Picking up rice would have been too much to ask of my poor extremities just yet.

Narita Airport, Japan.

It was amazing how difficult it was to do something I do without thinking any other time. The stress of the moment, and some of my embarrassment, faded away as I lifted the teriyaki salmon to my mouth. I quickly took the bite, worried that somehow it would explode out of my quivering hands if I didn’t act right then. My mouth full of the delicious salmon at last, I turned and smiled broadly at my Good Samaritans.

Determined to complete my return from the depths of embarrassment and restore my tarnished dignity, I held up the chopsticks clicking them triumphantly in a salute to my would-be benefactors and displayed the international symbol for yummy by rubbing my tummy in a circular motion.

The man and his wife smiled back, evidently relieved that I would neither starve nor force them to watch me disgrace chopsticks any longer. They joined together in silent round of applause for the big, stupid Gaijin learning how to eat. Their job was done.

If you teach a man to fish and use chopsticks he will always have food.

There are several morals to this little story.

One. Just because you think you’re doing something right, doesn’t mean you aren’t fucking it up.

Two. If someone offers you help, guidance, or even a little constructive criticism, they could be seeing something you’re too close to see.


Live the adventure.

Novel Approach - They say everyone has a book in them. But do they have to hurt so much coming out?

It seems like everybody's writing a book nowadays.




I have a copy of my friend Scott Alberts's book, Below The Line, written with John McFetridge, on order from Amazon.ca right now. The 30 Second Commute, Stephanie Dickison's nonfiction comedy about working from home, is available for pre-order.

Just in stores and available to order directly from Groundwood Books is Earthgirl, fellow TV scribe Jenn Cowan's first book from House of Anansi Press.

Hardcore Nerdity principal Lesley Livingston's Wondrous Strange is selling like hotcakes and has already spent time as one of Amazon's top youth sellers. So wake up, Twilight fans.



Actress and author Adrienne Kress, another Hardcore Nerdite, has a second book out, Timothy And The Dragon's Gate. Both of Kress and Livingston's fantasy works are garnering excellent reviews, like this one in the Globe and Mail.

And pals like actor Stephen Adams are taking matters into their own hands and self-publishing, like his first novel, Suit On The Run.

Sure, this post is partially a chance to shill for my friends and acquaintances, but the whole idea of putting a book into the world seems more possible thanks to the efforts of these colleagues. But it seems like writing a novel is becoming more and more common. The people above are some of the authors I know who are getting out there and getting it done.

Last November I posted about Chris Baty's National Novel Writing Month (NaNoMo Yes Or No?). I was tempted by the idea because of the power of a deadline to make the impossible happen. The NanoWrimo site's description of how it works is full of inspiration:

National Novel Writing Month is a fun, seat-of-your-pants approach to novel writing. Participants begin writing November 1. The goal is to write a 175-page (50,000-word) novel by midnight, November 30.

Valuing enthusiasm and perseverance over painstaking craft, NaNoWriMo is a novel-writing program for everyone who has thought fleetingly about writing a novel but has been scared away by the time and effort involved.

Because of the limited writing window, the ONLY thing that matters in NaNoWriMo is output. It's all about quantity, not quality. The kamikaze approach forces you to lower your expectations, take risks, and write on the fly.

Make no mistake: You will be writing a lot of crap. And that's a good thing. By forcing yourself to write so intensely, you are giving yourself permission to make mistakes. To forgo the endless tweaking and editing and just create. To build without tearing down.

As you spend November writing, you can draw comfort from the fact that, all around the world, other National Novel Writing Month participants are going through the same joys and sorrows of producing the Great Frantic Novel. Wrimos meet throughout the month to offer encouragement, commiseration, and—when the thing is done—the kind of raucous celebrations that tend to frighten animals and small children.

In 2007, we had over 100,000 participants. More than 15,000 of them crossed the 50k finish line by the midnight deadline, entering into the annals of NaNoWriMo superstardom forever. They started the month as auto mechanics, out-of-work actors, and middle school English teachers. They walked away novelists.

The amazing thing about it is that it's all true. This sucker really works!

I never believed I had a novel in me but about three days before National Novel Writing Month was to begin the germ of a possible idea wormed it way into my head. And as the clock ticked down to the start, I threw caution to the winds and began. I found it invigorating and challenging and soon the need to achieve each day's page count burned in my heart.

Then I had to stop.

It soon became apparent that I had so much paid writing to do I could not do both projects without my "day job" suffering. It took a little while to see if I could actually reschedule my time to make room for work and NanoWrimo (NaNoMo, How many different short forms does National Novel Writing Month have anyway?) It turned out it was possible, with the support of a very understanding wife, and so I was the rest of the month went well.

I was surprised by some of the twists that flowed from my flying fingers. I was seeing the idea expand and grow despite never having enough time to explore each digression and character that arose. I knew the draft would be far from perfect but if I kept to schedule I knew it would be complete enough to really work with . Writing is all in the editing.

It was fast and furious creation. The fingers really had to fly across the keyboards too make up for a lost week's worth of word count. By coincidence, this year's month ended on a Sunday Night, allowing for a full weekend of laptop bashing. At sometime around ten I had passed the 50, 000 word minimum but it wouldn't be official until I fed it into the official online counter. Normally, I would just see my count rise by much less than I'd hoped. But I knew this would be different. A sense of triumph hung in the air. I hit ENTER and was greeted with...

Through storm and sun, you traversed the noveling seas. Pitted against a merciless deadline and fighting hordes of distractions, you persevered. You launched yourself bravely into Week One, sailed through the churning waters of Week Two, skirted the mutinous shoals of Weeks Three and Four, and now have landed, victorious, in a place that few adventurers ever see.

We congratulate you on your hard work, salute your discipline and follow-through, and celebrate your imagination.

You did something amazing this month, novelist. We couldn't be prouder.

I can't tell you what a heady experience it was to see that logo flash across the screen. And the congratulatory write-up does not exaggerate that feeling. I was a viking! A master of throwing words at a page in some semblance of readable order! I was unstoppable!

So why didn't I slap this all over the Blog when I reached my lofty goal? For one, simple reason.

I wasn't finished the damn thing.

According to NaNoWrimo founder Chris Baty, the last word you type really should be "The" and "End". There will be a lot of crap in between but you'll have something complete to edit with and you can begin the arduous process of polishing up a prose gem. But my last two words weren't "The End". My last two words weren't my last two words at all. I was far from finished. I figured at the rate of 1600 words a day or so I was over a week away from having a finished first draft.

I got down on myself. I'm a professional writer. Why didn't I pace out my story to end at the right point. But then I did some calculations and realized I was pacing myself... for thirty days. But with two or three days away from the novel for family functions and a week lost to paying assignments and reworking my schedule, I had only written on twenty of the thirty days allotted! I was still ten days away from "The End".

Baty warns you to finish quickly if you still have work to do. The energy of the deadline disappears fast and the longer you wait to return to the first draft, the less likely you are to return to it at all. And when you do, your head will be in a different space and you might have difficulty recapturing the original mindset.

Sadly, that bastard is absolutely right.

The Winner's Seal has been mocking me for months. There has been so much work and so many things to balance in my day to day life that I still have yet to write those final ten days worth of novel. I'd like to do it in one go so I can be as close as possible to that state of automatic writing I achieved in November. So after, script deliveries, after Easter and after preparing my taxes, maybe I can finally, truly feel like I've earned that Winner Seal.

Compared to that, editing will be easy. Right?

Sigh.

Live the adventure.

The Chosen One - Homemade Flash Feature Inspires DIY Rules

I've seen too many bad, low-budget indie films and shorts lately that have everything going for them but are ruined by eager creators who can't recognize they need to step up and really look at what they're inflicting on us. So it's with relief that I found a fun, homemade animated film by creators who seem to get it. And they're getting lots of attention at Festivals, Ain't It Cool News and positive reviews from sites like Joblo.com.

I just finished ordering my copy of The Chosen One, a home-made, Flash animated feature by Chris Lackey and Chad Fifer, which was picked up by producer Andreas Olavarria. I believe that much of the work was done on their own but homemade may be a bit of an exaggeration. These guys are working writers and filmmakers and have a few key contacts.

Still, they spent their money on the right things; top notch voice talent and sound and a funny script that worked toward their strengths as animators. When you don't have the Disney or Pixar budget and can't make it smooth and realistic, follow South Park's lead and make it funny.

Here's the theatrical trailer from their The Chosen One Youtube page (There's a longer, more leisurely paced one for the Festival circuit).



All of the Do-It-Yourself hype around the movie makes it clear the script is what sold the talent and the buyers on it. What are the lessons for people considering making their own productions, whether live action or animated, webisode or straight to DVD, for Festival screens or Cellphone screens? Since there is a DIY wave washing over writers eager to get their work out over the net, may I suggest a few basic rules to consider before you start?

One. I'm talking about basic rules like be honest with yourself. Are you really a good director? If not, find someone you admire and trust. The flip side is, don't be afraid to speak up if you know you can improve something or direct it well yourself.

Two. If you do direct, listen to the input from those around you, consider it and take what you need. You can't see everything or consider every possible solution to a challenge without help.

Third, write a script based on what you have and can get. Don't be calling for a Bond-villain style set if all you've got is a bachelor apartment to shoot in.

Fourth, write a little beyond what you have or can get. I know, it's kind of bending rule number
three a little. Good1 That rule needs to be bent just a bit. You always need to be reaching a little higher than you expect to go, or it's all gonna be crap.

Fifth, don't scrimp on sound recording and mixing. Clear, clean sound well -mixed is a key to audience enjoyments. Even a crappy looking film can be helped by good sound. But your beautiful cinematography and clever script will seem horrible if the tinny dialogue and messy mix is giving the viewer a migraine.

Six. Seriously, don't scrimp on sound, man. Are you even listening to me?

Seven, always remember you want an audience to see your work. So step back and make it as polished as possible and don't assume they will get all your in-jokes and somehow know the convoluted backstory that's whipping around inside your brain but is nowhere on the screen.

Eight. Cast actual, bonafide actors. They're worth the money. Sure, it's hard to talk their language and you're not used to dealing with actual, you know, people. But they will bring your work to life and add elements to your work you never even knew where there. And if it really, really works, audiences will quote them. People will never remember you wrote it. Sorry. It's a sad fact. But they may remember your vivid character and the lines they spouted, or the moments they experienced with them. And they'll share them with their family and buddiss for the rest of their lives. That's IF your actor is good and not just one your drinking buddies from the indoor soccer team.

All these things make a difference if you want half a chance at actually making money. But you have to aim beyond scoring a few Youtube hits.

Nine. Find the story behind your film and why it was worth spending so much time and effort on it. you want your achievement to become part of the legend behind the film.That gets people interested and gets them talking.

Ten, go out and talk up your film yourself. The personal is the only way to get it to rise above the dreck everyone else is producing. Better still, you want to rise above the GOOD STUFF other people are putting out there!

Eleven, keep working to pay those bills. Everything stops if you're being evicted.

Eleven and a half. Ego can be useful but stow it when you're working. There's a time and place for it. You need everyone onside in the trenches and humbly is the way to call in favours. Do bring the ego out when you need to inspire those around you, overcome criticism and work through bullshit. You want to harness the power of ego, not let it control you.

Twelve. Soak up the glory when you finish and send your work into the world, everywhere you can. People will get to know you through your work and will watch for you again, hopefuly to embrace your next production and not to avoid the moron who ignored all of these rules.

Finally, it lives or dies on the writing man. you can save yourself a lot of headaches with a well-written and thought out script. Then all you have to do is make every stage that follows live up to and elevate it.

I'm curious to see what Lackey and Fifer accomplished. I'm curious to see what you and I accomplish too.

Live the adventure.

The Blind Date Tightrope - It's worth spending time in awkward moments to reveal and develop characters

I like the fact that in ancient Chinese art the great painters always included a deliberate flaw in their work: human creation is never perfect. – Madeleine L’Engle

Fourteenth century Friar and logician William of Occam’s Razor advises simplicity in attempting to explain any phenomenon. But simplicity is deceptive. It does not mean, as some espouse (especially in mystery shows and police procedurals), “the simplest theory is the correct one”. It means the working theory should make as few assumptions as possible and any elements that shed no real light on the observable predications of the hypothesis should be eliminated from the theory.

As writers we are often going through our scripts shaving out dialogue or cutting scenes that don’t push our plot forward or somehow set up some revelation or twist that will appear later. We’re trying to make a lean, mean script that builds it momentum and carries our viewers to the emotional place we went them to end up at. We want them to have laughed out loud and been surprised, discovered whodunit was the one they never suspected or want them relived after watching our thriller on the edge of their seat, And ultimately, we want to leave them wanting more.

But often when we strip down our scripts to their essential elements only we can lose the things that make it watchable or readable; those quirky character moments that let people get to know a character, that panning vista that really tells us the kind of world our characters are coming from, or just spending time in an environment to let people immerse themselves in our world. We’ve all reached the moment when we’ve taken out everything that seems unimportant and read through the script, only to discover it reads as perfunctory, unrealistic and, gasp, dull.

I recently attended writer and actress Rebecca Northan’s brilliant, partially improvised play, Blind Date, at Harbourfront Centre and experienced the other side of this approach.

Northan’s moving, fascinating play could teach a lot of writers a lesson in where truly compelling drama and humour comes from. It’s messy and tense and delightful and surprising as two people fish for what they need in an encounter with another human being. I won’t even get into the questions it raises about the nature of the audience and viewing, and reality versus committing to a fantasy under unclear rules, et al. That will have to wait for me to start my psychotherapy blog, MindPhuque.com. In essence, Blind Date is all about the things we might be tempted to cut out of our scripts in an effort to streamline and drop anything that feels potentially extraneous.

First of all, I should point out that improvisation and Writing are two very different animals. I spent the first fifteen years of my career doing live improv and though you are trying to explore character and narrative, the experience is very much communal. Rough patches, awkwardness and mistakes are forgiven because the audience is a part of the ride. You’re using their suggestions, building on their lives and sometimes actually bringing one up on stage to perform with you. The tightrope walk makes it okay.

In a scripted show you have to take responsibility for the writing. When there’s a wonky bit of dialogue or a scene that just doesn’t seem to work, it’s on us. You’re presenting something to the audience and they will let you know if they do not like. The forgiveness factor of improv isn’t there. Your script is the only net and you better weave it well.

That said, Northan’s hybrid play reminded me of the power to harnessed by embracing those awkward true moments we find so often in life and in people. In Blind Date Northan plays (and play is the key word here) Mimi, a Parisian clown who has just been stood up for a Blind Date and so she goes into the audience and chooses an unsuspecting male to be her blind date for the evening… on stage… for ninety minutes.

Blind Date is everything a real blind date is; awkward, full of shifts and turns and misunderstandings as two people to try to get to know each other and connect in a very short time. It soon became apparent, that much like real life, trying to make up interesting things about yourself is far less interesting than the truths. I hope I keep that in mind the next time I want to make a character who belongs in an insurance company cubicle into a Fashion Magazine editor simply because it seems more interesting.

After a drink date filled with pauses and moments of connection (Northan and the audience guide the “date” on being honest through coaching sessions and positive reinforcement like cheering and applause), Northan takes the date back to her “apartment” and then jumps forward in time to show the developing relationship. By this time most of her “dates’ have caught and reveal surprising things about themselves, often learning things even they were unaware of.

The fact that a person can be thrust into a situation they are completely unfamiliar with and discover things about themselves and hidden reserves is just the kind of thing we try to capture in our scripts. But the only way for the character, and for us as writers, to uncover those things is to explore unexpected moments and tangents. It’s amazing how much depth they can bring to the viewing experience.

Think of some of cinema’s most amazing moments and you’ll find examples of we can achieve by not struggling to be interesting, but rather embracing the discomfiting inelegance of real behaviour…


"I engage you a character? Exactly how do I engage
you? I engage you like a funny clown maybe?"

The seduction scene in the Graduate is compelling because of Dustin Hoffman’s sputtering, overwhelmed performance. And it’s played so well against Anne Bancroft’s hard-edged, weary woman so unhappy in a dead-end marriage she’s willing tii seduce her daughter’s fiancé.

Diane Keaton and Woody Allen on the deck of his apartment, first getting to know each other in Annie Hall. Magical awkwardness used to be Allen’s stock in trade. And the growing attraction between the characters is as apparent as the intellectual divide that will eventually break-them up again.

I have to agree with TV Guide on this. There’s no better blend of humour and menace than Joe Pesci turning on Ray Liotta after telling a joke in a restaurant. People still drop into his “How am I funny? I amuse you?” speech at the drop of a hat. It’s uncomfortable, disturbing and riveting cinema.

Let’s call it the Blind Date Tightrope.

Our script is the audience’s blind date with all of our characters and the only way to get them interested is to find the truth of our characters, including the awkwardness, nervousness and self-image issues we all work through as we get to know the people in our lives.

Blind Date creator/performer Rebecca Northan.

It's interesting that most reviews for the show refer to it as unreviewable because it depends so much on who Northan chooses. The truth is, it will work almost every time, because she has done some writing in creating an adaptable framework to keep her partner's safe in that she's there to help them, but she's also there to keep them riding the edge, always forcing him to make choices. Sounds like great way to build a character.

Northan's own philosophy is summed up in this interview for the show in Calgary's Fast Forward Weekly.

I think an unsuccessful show is one where the audience leaves and goes, ‘meh, that was alright.’ If someone leaves the theatre and goes, ‘I loved that! I never thought of things that way!’ or ‘Oh my God, that really upset me, and I'm going to be fucked up for three days,’ or ‘I'm outraged! I'm politically outraged by what I saw!’ — that's all great. But if you leave the theatre the same as when you entered it, that's a failure. Otherwise, why tell the story?”

Rebecca Northan’s Blind Date will be remounted in Harbourfront’s Fall Season.

My next script will on your desk days before the deadline so we can go over some initial notes.

Live the adventure.

NaNoMo - Yes Or No? - National Novel Writing Month

The following post was written for my blog at www. rebelalert.com. It's a humourous, sci-fi blog that became a forum for writing about ideas and inspired this site. But the post fits quite nicely here too.

Enjoy.

NaNoMo - Yes Or No?

The clock is ticking quickly down to the start of another NaNoMo and for once I've remembered it before it began. NaNoMo isn't baby talk for no more milk, it's National Novel Writing Month. Though truly, it has grown into an international event. You can learn more about the event at its website here.

The gist of it is this: thousands of people across the globe gather any spare scraps of time they can from their daily to power through a novel of 50, 000 words. Quality is not the point. Quantity is. The idea is to avoid editing or agonizing over plot points. That slows you down and all but guarantees your novel will languish in a an unfinished state for months and possibly years.

Going for word count only as the days rush by helps you avoid the inner editor and let the story itself take hold. Hopefully, you will end up with a first draft. And truthfully, all first drafts are crap. But once they're done, you can really see what you have and fix it. It's in the later editing stage that your gem will truly begin to shine, or not.

So NoNoMo is here every year to take away all our precious excuses and force people to just get tha dang down on paper, or on the screen. The rules are pretty straightforward:

1. Do not start your novel before Nov. 1. You may have an outline and background material but not a word of prose can be typed before the month begins. If you started early, you will always be aware that you cheated and when the going gets tough your likelihood of giving up increases. "Hell, I cheated anyway so what's the point?"

2. Do not bring in an already started novel to complete. It will be too precious to you and make the whole month painful and likely fruitless, as well.

3. You cannot collaborate on the 50, 000 words. This is a personal challenge. But you are encouraged to get your friends and family to go for their own novel so they can share the ups and downs with you. That community spirit helps you feel less alone in your battle of the words. That's why the site has community boards in all the main areas and writing events throughout the month.

These on-line and public hook-ups for people allow us to combat the sheer loneliness of writing, which is at once a wonderful escape to utilize and expand your mind, heart and soul, yet also a debilitating experience when the writing gets tough or a problem seems insurmountable. Sharing the burden can transform that agony into a wonderful experience.

Also, let your non-writing friends and loved ones be cheerleaders (and gentle needlers when your spirit is flagging). Then they too can share in your sweet, sweet victory at month's end.

4. The official site is the home of the official word count calculator. You can submit your novel privately and it will tell you how many words so far and then delete it from their server. No one reads it until you're ready for them to.

5. You can use pen and paper but you won't be able to calculate word count as easily. The site uses the honour system for that. They also give some extra time for a novel to be typed up.

That's about it. Again, no mention of quality here. They just want us to pump it out and prove to the world and ourselves that we can do it.

I know at least one friend who has done it and is likely doing it again this year. And yesterday, another friend declared her intentions to me. That's one of the great tricks of writing a novel in a single, caffeine-fueled month; the more public your declaration of intent, the more embarrassment you suffer if you give up.

The NaNoMo has discovered a fuel more powerful than the Enterprise's dilithium crystals and a Star Wars gravity well projector combined; a deadline.

I never accomplished anything without an outside deadline burning at my ass. As I've grown older , I have realized there are more people who are like me in that regard than there are robot aliens who are organized enough to do things without one. That's why I took a writing partner in the first place (along with the fact that we collaborated well, or course)... I knew I'd be too afraid of letting her down to ever not finish my share of the work.

I suspect deadline's are the key to many of mankind's greatest achievements. But I work on deadlines every day. Yet I know I don't organize my time to it's fullest potential.

Dare I try to do my work, share quality time with my wife and write the novel I never knew I had lurking within me?

Heat up the warp drive and use the sun's gravity to slingshot you forward in time and you'll know before I do! Otherwise, keep checking in and all will be revealed.

Live the adventure.

A mirror of this post and funny, sci-fi inspired blogs and cartoons can be found my other blog: www.rebelalert.com.