November is upon us.

Half the planet has already crossed that golden line, releasing chained fingers aching to breathe life into whatever crazy fraction of an idea that by now has, hopefully, developed into the shell of a glorious novel. The rest either slumber or stare longingly at the clock, listening to the ominous/soothing ticking. Tick. Tock.

As some may have noticed by this point, I am not a poet. What I am, however, is a writer. And as a writer, I sometimes find it necessary to end the lives of characters I've spent months developing and shaping, guiding them by hand, every step of the way, until their inevitable and, most likely, in my case, bloody betrayal. As such, I go to lengths to make sure to add a slice of fun to this gruesome business. It's not a great effort to add fun, but I do make the effort nonetheless.

Some characters even prove to be quite persistent. They simply refuse to die, no matter what you throw at them. You pour kerosene on them and set them on fire, you run them over with small cars, you bomb the cities they live in, and yet... they die with a smile on their face, knowing you can't quite get it right. Something feels off. And so you revive them. Again and again. It's a war you can't win.

But there is a simple solution.

A shovel.

The shape doesn't matter. The size doesn't matter. Doesn't even matter what it's made of or how heavy it is. A good thwack on the back of the head solves all problems you'll ever have.

This'll be my fourth year out of six I will be including a shovel. Sadly, it will not be an accomplice to murder this year, but I hope the blood will sate it. I like to think they're all the same shovels, and that all my worlds are connected somehow. Some day I will expand on this. Some day.

For further reading on the subject, I refer you to this:
http://www.wikiwrimo.org/wiki/Traveling_Shovel_of_Death