The Official Diagnosis

I can just picture walking into the colorful office of a shrink, plopping down on his couch, and he looks at me over his reading glasses and says, "So, Kaycee, what seems to be your problem?"

"Well I'm not sure, Doc. I was online one night and spontaneously decided to take part in this thing where writers everywhere write a fifty thousand word novel in thirty days. It sounded like fun!

"But then I was working on my psychology homework one evening, and I just couldn't focus, because my character, Brett, has been really shy and hiding in the shadowed corners of my mind, and I can't seem to drag him out to figure out what his story is. I'm about eight thousand words behind now, and the days just keep marching on and I still don't know what his problem is! I'm certain that he's doing it just to torment me. He's going to wait a week or two until it's too late to catch up, watch me fail NaNoWriMo, and laugh.

"So to cope with my frustration, I went to the NaNo forum and went into the Spork room where I grabbed my cyber spork and, instead of prodding Brett out of the shadows with it, I just jumped up and down screaming "WHY ARE THERE ONLY 24 HOURS IN A DAY???!!!" almost hoping that I'd poke my eye out with the spork. And in all this frustration, I didn't have time to finish my psychology chapter on psychological abnormalities.

"What do you think, Doc, am I crazy?"

The shrink will look at me and smile gently, trying to mask the horror in his eyes, and say "Don't worry Kaycee, I know some friends who wear white coats who would love to help you with your problem."

That's right, folks, NaNoWriMo is eating my sanity. Or whatever sanity I had. And you wanna know something?

IT'S A BLAST!!!