So, Tuesday is the kickoff for Camp NaNoWriMo (http://campnanowrimo.org), which is similar to National Novel Writing Month except it's not in November, participants get to choose their word count goals, and it's set up sort of like a summer camp.
I think it's supposed to make people nostalgic for their childhoods or something, but I finally realized that the reason I wasn't really getting into the whole "camp" aspect was because I never actually went to summer camp as a kid. (Please note that I'm not complaining about this. I have enough real things to complain about from my childhood -- notably the presence of two younger siblings when I was explicitly promised that I would always be the baby of the family -- and going to an actual camp with other children and bunks and other children and mosquitos and other children... I didn't miss it.)
Anyhow, I guess I'm supposed to make s'mores and listen to recorded crickets chirping or some such nonsense. I think I'll just stick with my regular writing music. I'm not completely ruling out the s'mores, though.
My outline for this novel is done, although there will be a distinct lack of action in chapter eight if I stick too closely to the plan. This novel is a continuation of the one I wrote in November. My beta reader said she wanted to read the next one so I have motivation to write it.
I did try to get other people in my family to join in April, but was completely unsuccessful at that. Other non-successes of the week: adopting a new dog, convincing other people to sign up for the dog tricks class, doing my taxes. However, I would like to point out that there are two people in my eleven-person cabin who are teenagers and sisters. I mean, if they can do this on top of high school, one might think that people who have time to watch Game of Thrones might be able to carve out a little spare time, but hey, what do I know? I'm not bitter or anything, you bastards.
So maybe I'll send postcards or something.
But only if I start getting care packages...