It's Friday and panic is settling in,
Less than 48 hours till NaNo begins.
I must have been mad to sign up for this deal,
But Sunday's kick-off is frighteningly real.
Who knows how I'll manage to complete this test?
My laptop is broken, not news of the best.
My pen will take over as primary tool,
Bringing back memories of being at school.
50,000 words, not a single one less,
How the hell did I get into this mess?
30 days of writing, of hope for ideas,
Of praying my Writing Mojo appears.
The plot is half formed, the characters almost,
If I don't finish planning, this book will be toast.
It's all very well signing up for this quest,
But completing the journey will be the real test.
My grammar's not great, my typing's a mess,
How the story pans out is anyone's guess.
(I'll use these two lines just to ramble a bit,
It's murder when trying to find words that will fit).
The panic is rising with each passing hour,
A taste in my mouth that's increasingly sour.
When Sunday arrives, I'll be at panic's peak,
And that panic will haunt me for four solid weeks.
November will be filled with panic attacks,
Of stressing, and pacing, and poor aching backs.
(When writing, my back always causes me pain,
The sitting hunched over a desk is to blame).
I can mumble and groan just as much as can be,
But whinging won't give any help to me.
I signed up for the deal, a promise was made,
Words have to be written, my promise repaid.
Coming full circle, I arrive at the start,
The panic revealed by the thump of my heart,
My blood pressure's up, my head is spinning,
But balls to all that, I plan on winning!