It began innocently enough with a parody on the “If you give a mouse a cookie” books. Just an innocent look into the mind of an author with a new character idea.

The next year, on October 31, while I was handing out candy to ghouls masquerading as kids–or vice versa, it’s hard to tell which sometimes–I began playing with The Night Before Christmas.  But about NaNoWriMo.  Every year since then, it’s gotten harder and harder. Here’s a list of those in case you’re also trying to drag out the hours before NaNoWriMo starts.

• If You Give an Author a Character
• The Night Before NaNo
• The Raven: NaNoWriMo Style
• How to Butcher a Poem in 3 Easy Steps

Well, for the 2018 NaNoWriMo parody, I started with “O, Captain, My Captain,” skipped over to “The Tiger,” bounced back to “Paul Revere’s Ride,” and even “The Animal Fair” (yes, “I went to the animal fair. The birds and beasts were there…” etc.). When that failed, I thought of poems I knew that had time in them.  I had a choice between Robert Herrick’s “To the Virgins: Make Much Use of Time” and “My Grandfather’s Clock.”

Since my time was flying past, I chose the one I knew best.  One my dad actually sang sometimes.  Poor dad. First I butchered his “Trees” by Joyce Kilmer last year and now “Grandfather’s Clock.”  I’m a terrible daughter.

But… the 2018 NaNoWriMo parody is done and I’m quite pleased with it.

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How Is My Dad Spinning in His Grave but Not Dead?

Well, first, I should note that it’s not because it’s still “Halloween.”  He’s not in the front yard in an open casket scaring kids walking by.  We don’t really “do” Halloween in our family.

No, it’s because… yeah.  This:

Till November

My laptop, it seems in anticipation gleams
As it waits for the clock to strike twelve.
The plot is all planned; it e’en has a theme
Then into the new story, I’ll delve.
It is wrought on the night when the world is a fright
And resistance is oh, such a chore.
But I’ll pause, wait, not write a word
Till the morrow bursts in through the door.

Ninety minutes are lumbering, tick, tick, tock.
Those seconds I’m numbering, tick, tick, tock.
But I’ll pause, wait, not write a word
Till the morrow bursts in through the door.

While planning and plotting the story you know
I devise oh, such perfect delights.
The scene list it forms and then it doth grow
Until I just can’t wait to write.
I’ll use adjectives here and metaphors there.
I’ll add subplots and subtext galore.
But I’ll pause, wait, not write a word
Till the morrow bursts in through the door.

Ninety minutes are lumbering, tick, tick, tock.
Those seconds I’m numbering, tick, tick, tock.
But I’ll pause, wait, not write a word
Till the morrow bursts in through the door.

My laptop it yearns to get started right now
But I still won’t be tempted to cheat.
The minute hand crawls, but I just won’t allow
Myself to type what I’d then must delete.
The time rushes past; soon I’ll be having a blast,
And this night won’t remain such a bore.
So I’ll pause, wait, not write a word
Till the morrow bursts in through the door.

Ninety minutes are lumbering, tick, tick, tock.
Those seconds I’m numbering, tick, tick, tock.
But I’ll pause, wait, not write a word
Till the morrow bursts in through the door.

It’s ‘leven fifty-nine by the clock on the screen
How my fingers they itch for release.
My eyes watch the sweep of the hand and they scheme
Of a night where I never will cease.
Just a few seconds left, no longer bereft.
I’ll tell tales of yore and of lore!
I won’t pause, or wait, I’ll write all the words.
Now November has burst through my door!

Ninety words a minute-ing, click, click, clack.
The word count it keeps growing, click, click, clack
I won’t pause, or wait, I’ll write all the words
Till I reach fifty-thousand or more!

But WAIT!  There’s MORE!

As promised, here’s the video of me singing this little ditty.  It is what it is, folks.

And if you want to know how it SHOULD sound… here’s one of my favorite versions of the real song:

And if you want to hear the Von Trapp children singing it, you can find it HERE. Meanwhile, this is this year’s NaNo project.

Synopsis:

Not everyone can elucidate for hours on the life cycle of a dung beetle, the bladder habits of mammals, and the mating habits of chimps–thank goodness.  If only Heath didn’t have all those random facts stuck in his mind, maybe one his hundred and one first dates might have had a second.  Or, *gasp* even a third.

But his sister has a plan up her sleeve–one to help him over his awkwardness and into the perfect relationship.  Somehow.

And stay tuned for the story of how I got this book idea.  Trust me. It’s a doozy.