I've officially entered into National Novel Writing Month, also known by its abbreviation, Nanny Nanny Boo Boo.
The goal of the event is to write a 50,000-word work of fiction by the end of November. The official website allows authors to upload their work, update word count, chat with other participants and professionals and plan meetups. If you accomplish the mission, you get a certificate (and, presumably, a big meal-ticket hunk of manuscript).
I've already got 1,000 words. I already feel like I'm going to fail.
But here's one taste:
Dynamic Communications Models, LLC was not the kind of place anyone worked to make a difference. People worked there because they had a lot of bills to pay, and wanted some cash left over to play golf or get mani-pedis for their pets. Initiatives came from the top and trickled down to everyone below. From an omniscient view, the cubicle farm on the middle floor seemed designed to catch those ideas like a stack of wine glasses arranged to catch rotgut. People came in, did their duty and left at 5 p.m. sharp to drink or pursue the spoils of affluence.
Craig didn't quite fit in with the DCM crowd, but that was OK with him. The office didn't really lend itself to camaraderie. Cubicle partitions walled up workplace neighbors, leading to the same benign isolation they no doubt preferred in their gated suburban communities. Punch in, punch out. As far as Craig was concerned, his life lay outside these walls. Whenever people asked him what he did, he told people he worked here only because it satisfied the query. In his mind, it didn't define him.
What he did like about the job is that, in his field at least, it held cachet. Meaning, he could put it on his résumé later and not have another gap to justify. Because there were already three of those.
Also, it begins with a hostage situation. And it's funny. I hope.