When I finally threw in the Nanowrimo towel last October, I hadn't actually given my novel a full read-through. Not even once.

While I was writing it, I was afraid that going back and reading it would just make me over-analyze things (I know. Me, over analyze?) After I was done, I just didn't feel like it was time to go back and face it. By the end, I had been sort of flailing, desperate to get the plot going somewhere--anywhere. I had thrown in private investigators, and a bomb in the streets of San Francisco, and a fusion restaurant that serves 'moo shu fish tacos' and 'Hawaiian style chile relleno', and a sexy Latin love interest named Joaquin, and a Humboldt county murder mystery, and ninjas. Ninjas. In a sci fi novel!

But the fact remained that I liked my novel. Even with all the literary baggage. I always figured that, some day, I would forget how bad it was, resurrect it, and revise it into a decent first half of a novel.

Today is that day.

While clicking through my daily blogs for the first time in several days (Wow, dooce is in a mental institute? How odd.) I followed some of the links on The Book Stops Here, and I ended up in an endless maze of writing blogs, author websites, writing resource websites--and it finally hit me.

"It is time!" I said aloud, or maybe just in my head. "It's time to finish my novel. Starting tonight!"

What was I to do? If my brain tells me it's time to finish the crappy novel, then it's obviously time to finish the crappy novel. I called up the bookmark that I had prepared for the occasion: Holly Lisle's thorough instructions on the revising process. And then I opened up my novel and took a look at the monster.

The first thing I noticed, as I scanned it, preparing it for printing, was that the phrases that I was seeing were not nearly as hokey as I remember them. Sure, a few were weird, here and there, but overall the writing sounded fine. That came as a big relief.

The second thing I noticed, as I spell-checked it (which I had never done during the writing) was that the spelling started out good, but got progressively worse as the story went on. At the near-ending (probably from my 7000 word day) many of the sentences were entirely misspelled. Some words had all the right letters, just in the wrong order. My fingers, apparently, were not quick enough for my brain.

After that, I began printing the thing out. It is *still* printing. I cannot believe how huge this pile of exhausted metaphors is. I am starting to think if I'm kinda crazy for attempting to do this.

As the last, stunning line of my novel says:

“Tell me about it!” She yelled, to no one in particular.

The thoroughly Googled version (for best results, read this out loud.  seriously)

When I finally threw last Octobers into the cloth Nanowrimo, I had not really given a full to my novel read through.  You do not smooth once.

While I wrote it, I had fear the fact that back it goes and he me straight things over+analyze would let a reading off (knows me.  I, over analyze?),  After I was done, I did not believe straight, how it was time, to go back and confront him.  To end I had been the kind the Flailing, hopelessly for receiving the Plots, which somewhere -- everywhere goes.  I had thrown into private researchers and into a bomb in the roads of San Francisco and of fusion procedure restaurant, which ' the MOO shu Fischtacos ' and ' hawaiisches Artchilerelleno ' serve, and Joaquin and a county murder secret Humboldt called interest of love delightful latin and ninjas.  Ninjas.  In a sci FI novel!

But the fact remained that I mean novel liked.  Smooth with that whole literary luggage.  I always explained that, a daily, I, how bad was it resurrect it and improves it into an acceptable first half of a novel was forgotten. 

Today's day is this day. 

With by my daily blogs on some days for the first time click (wows, dooce is in Geistesinstitut?  As odd.)  I followed unite the connections on the book notices here, and I became finished in an endless labyrinth of Schreibensblogs, Autorenwebsites, Schreibenshilfsmittelwebsites above -- and it struck me finally. 

"it is time!",  I said loud or possibly straight in my head.  "it is time, means novel to terminate.  This evening begin!", 

What was I for doing?  If my brain explains to me, it is time, crappy the novel to terminate then it is obviously time to terminate crappy the novel.  I called the Bookmark, which I had prepared for the opportunity:  StechpalmeLisles complete instructions during the improving process.  And then opened I mean novel and took a view at the monster. 

The first thing, which I considered, since I made a blueprint her, it preparing for the pressure, was that the cliches, which I saw were not nearly there hokey, as I remind me of her.  Surely, were some, here and there strange, but entire the letter, which one sounded fine.  That came as large discharge. 

The second thing, which I considered, since I spell-examined her (which I never while the letter had done), was that the Spelling from good began, but received gradually more badly than history continued.  To approaching (supposed of my day with 7000 words) were completely falsespelled many of the sentences.  Some words had all right letters, straight in the wrong order.  My fingers were apparent not fast enough for my brain. 

After I began to print out the thing.  It is * still * pressure.  I cannot believe, how very large this pile of the exhausted metaphors is.  I begin to think if I am moved a bischen, so that trying does this. 

As if last you, line of my novel betaeubend say:  I over it!?  It kreischte, to none in particular.