You may have noticed, dear reader, that I enjoy baths. In fact, I adore them. I wouldn’t call them a necessity; I have lived in at least three locations with shower-only bathrooms, and while I cannot for the life of me understand why they even make such a thing, I can easily live through the experience, with only slight suffering.
During November, baths become even more essential. Normally, the bathtub is where I take a glass of port and a good book, but when NaNoWriMo comes around, I leave the book out and turn out the light. Mostly because the light is connected to the obnoxiously loud fan, and I’ve found it’s almost impossible to plot with that noise going.
Pretty much every NaNo plot of mine has either been born, refined, or fixed in the tub. An hour in hot water and no lights allows your mind to truly bring a story to life. At least, it does for my mind. The only failure I had was when I tried to write a convoluted mystery. I really should have relied on paper and pen and post-its for that one. My hero got a bit lost getting from A to B. In fact, he went through the rest of the alphabet before he got to B, and even so, he got there far too fast and then had to move on to wingdings and numerics.
You may have guessed, dear reader, that I am in a pleasant, post-tub-plotting state of mind. I have fixed my nano. I have discovered the block, and the means to removing said block. It does mean I have to go back to the beginning and add a few chapters of backstory on the heroine, but c’est la vie. They are all simply words, and words shall not master me.
Sorry. It’s a Regency set partly in France, and I think I’m getting a bit too flowery. In everything. I promise to tone it down.