Pr3++yG33kyTh1ng

Yesterday featured the titanic struggle between me and the tag team of writer's block and self-doubt. My mental image features me in a Godzilla suit getting knocked around by writer's block and self-doubt dressed as Rodan and Mothra. Or maybe Mecha-Godzilla.
Either way, as we smashed through the Tokyo of my novel, frantic, screaming adjectives ran all over everywhere in a blind panic.
I don't blame them. There was much carnage.
I'm starting to fear I've wasted this whole time on a subject that is more short story than novel, but last night I managed to squeeze some more information into the early chapters. It may stretch without breaking, but time and carpal tunnel will tell.
I've been compensating by writing especially terse emails at work. Leaving out the proper names of servers may be a bit confusing for the recipients until December, but we all have to make sacrifices, right?
I'm the only person I know whose book qualifies as "Speculative Fiction", but I'll hit the NaNoWriMo message boards later to see if I can find anyone else who is having some of the same issues I'm feeling related to time lines and technologies.
If not, I'll just talk smack about those losers in Maryland and return to churning prose, seemingly at random.