I spent most of last night working on my NaNoWriMo novel, after also sneaking in a few mini-sessions during the day, and my word count is now up to 29,943-- slightly ahead of schedule. Which is good, because I won't have time to write at all for the next three or four days.*
It's also good because I've now gotten to the real meat of my story. In screenplay terms, it would be the middle of act two, when everything goes horribly wrong for our heroes and the central crisis reaches its peak. Actually, I'm probably not quite at the middle of act two yet, because things will get a bit worse after this.
I'll be the first to admit that the finished novel-- at least, this first draft of it-- will be an incoherent mess. Up until this point, I've had the actual history of the real Apollo 8 mission to act as an outline, but now I'm completely making shit up. I plan to crib a little from Apollo 13, the movie (since I can use Jim Lovell, and who doesn't love Tom Hanks?), but I have no idea where the whole werewolf thing is going. Seriously. No freaking clue. Making it up with each paragraph.
It's an unfamiliar and freeing feeling, and I'm quite enjoying it.
* Tonight: Beauty and the Beast. Thursday: Richter Scales rehearsal. Friday: Harry Potter. Saturday: Hornblower dinner cruise.