A psychothriller writer’s descent into delightful madness.

Day 1: I Signed Up for This Chaos Voluntarily

NaNoWriMo has begun, which means I have officially re-entered my annual tradition of making November my problem. (I"m technically following NovNov with ProWriting Aid, but who is keeping track?)

I opened my laptop at 6:03 a.m., all bright-eyed and optimistic, like a golden retriever about to learn what thunder is.

The plan: write a crisp, focused psychological thriller.

The reality: I spent 20 minutes naming the file something dramatic, which auto-saved itself as “Untitled 1” anyway, because even my computer knows better than to trust me in November.

But I got words down. Messy, frantic, probably suspicious in a “might get me added to a government watchlist” way — because when you’re writing a psychothriller with military aviation references, your Google search history becomes a situation.

 Still, it’s Day 1. Spirits high. Coffee hotter than my sanity. Let’s go.

Day 3: My Characters Are Cutting WWE Promos in My Head

Some writers talk about how their characters whisper to them.

 Mine suplex each other through the ropes of my mind like it’s a pay-per-view event.

The protagonist — a guy with more trauma than common sense — climbed onto a metaphorical turnbuckle today and cut a promo about how he “refuses to be written like some tragic antihero.”

 Meanwhile, my villain tag-teamed in like a WWE heel, delivering a monologue so smug it practically power-bombed my outline.

The plot tried to intervene.

 The plot failed.

I tried to mediate, but have you ever tried to break up a fight between two fictional men who both think they’re right? It’s like being the referee in a cage match armed with nothing but a pumpkin spice latte.

Day 6: Fun Fact — Military Aircraft Research Should Not Be Done at 2 A.M.

Let me tell you what you should absolutely not do: fall down a military aviation rabbit hole after midnight.

Did you know an F-22 can supercruise at Mach 1.8 without afterburner?

 Did you know the F-35 contains eight million lines of code?

 Did you know my draft currently contains eight sentences that make sense?

I didn’t need to know these things.

 I especially didn’t need to know them while sleep-deprived, caffeinated, and prone to dramatics.

But here we are.

 At this point, if the Department of Defense audited my search history, I’d simply offer them a cookie and a manuscript page and politely ask that they ignore the part where I Googled “what altitude induces hypoxia” for “research purposes.”

This psychothriller is ruining my algorithm.

 And I love it.

Day 7: Plot Hole vs. Folding Chair — The Wrestling Match

Today, a plot hole hit me with the energy of a wrestler running into the ring wielding a folding chair.

One minute I was writing a tense chase scene.

 The next, I realized my timeline made no sense and my protagonist was somehow in two cities at once, like a stressed-out omnipresent ghost with a caffeine problem.

The plot hole struck.

 I went down.

 The chair connected.

I am choosing to remain conscious through coffee.

Day 9: The Protagonist Is Making Questionable Choices Again

I tried to give my main character a quiet, introspective moment today.

 He responded by breaking into a restricted area and making a morally ambiguous decision I absolutely did not authorize.

He’s supposed to be intelligent.

 He’s supposed to be strategic.

 Instead, he’s out here behaving like a man who once licked a battery to “see what would happen.”

The antagonist appeared two pages early — again — but honestly?

 Respect. Someone needs to supervise this man.

Day 10: I Accidentally Wrote a Scene So Intense I Needed a Snack Break

I wrote a chapter today that made me sweat — and I already know what happens.

Tight corridors.

 Unreliable perceptions.

 Someone breathing too close to the wrong side of the truth.

 Exactly the level of psychological tension I wanted.

So naturally, I got up afterward and ate Cheez-Its in the dark like a feral goblin trying to emotionally recover.

It’s fine.

 Everything’s fine.

 This is all part of the process.

Day 11: The Plot Has Entered Its Heel-Turn Era

My psychothriller, which started as a simple idea, is now twisting itself into knots like it’s auditioning for a wrestling storyline where everyone turns heel by the end.

The love interest? Untrustworthy.

 The protagonist? Spiraling.

 The villain? Gathering dramatic lighting like it’s a personality trait.

Even my minor characters are starting to monologue.

I don’t remember authorizing any of this.

Day 13: I Have Developed Opinions About Aircraft I Should Not Have

Today’s writing session included an accidental three-hour tangent about engine thrust, stealth coatings, and whether a particular aircraft could realistically pull off what I’m making it do.

It cannot.

 Not unless physics bends in half.

Did that stop me?

 No.

Because another fun fact:

 C-130s can land on dirt runways.

 I can barely land on a single coherent plot point.

We all have our weaknesses.

Day 14: My Manuscript Pulled a Suplex

I attempted to write a gentle moment.

 A breath between the storms.

 A nice, soft psychological palate cleanser.

Instead, the story grabbed me by the metaphorical waistband and suplexed me into an emotional subplot that wasn’t on my outline.

My outline is crying in a corner.

 My protagonist is sitting in a metaphorical folding chair, smirking.

 My antagonist has entered the ring wearing metaphorical aviators.

I am simply here, typing.

Day 15: The Coffee Is Fighting For Custody of My Nervous System

Things are getting… shaky.

Literally.

I have consumed enough caffeine to make my molecules vibrate at a higher frequency.

 My characters are fighting over who gets the next chapter.

 My antagonist has started speaking in italics.

I woke up at 2 a.m. and wrote 800 words of a dream sequence I will absolutely cut later.

 Unless it’s brilliant.

 I can’t tell anymore.

Day 16: Research Has Become the Hobby

I tried to write 500 words today.

 Instead, I watched cockpit footage for an hour and learned how pilots eject from an aircraft.

This is not progress.

 This is not writing.

 This is a hobby now.

At this point I know more about emergency oxygen systems than any novelist should, and I keep pausing videos to yell things like:

 “That would kill him!”

 “That would break his ribs!”

 “No one could do that unless their bones were made of spite!”

This feels normal.

Day 17: The Plot Twist Arrived Like an Airborne Paratrooper

I had a surprise idea hit me today with the subtlety of a paratrooper landing in the middle of my living room.

Uninvited.

 Loud.

 Covered in metaphorical adrenaline.

It changes everything — but in a good way.

 You know that feeling when the story suddenly clicks into a deeper, sharper shape?

 Yeah. That.

I love when the manuscript bites back.

Day 18: My Characters Are Now Smarter Than Me

I wrote a scene today where two characters had a conversation so clever I had to stop and ask myself who wrote it.

Spoiler: not me.

 I was merely the vessel.

They solved a plot issue I hadn’t figured out yet.

 They revealed a twist I didn’t see coming.

 They pulled off a metaphorical double-team move that made the WWE comparison feel too accurate.

Meanwhile, I mispronounced the word “hangar” out loud.

They’re evolving.

 I’m just trying to keep up.

That’s as far as November has taken me for now.

 But trust me — Days 19 through 30 are already circling like aircraft waiting for clearance to land, full of plot twists I didn’t approve, caffeine-fueled questionable decisions, and at least one moment where I seriously considered DDT-ing my own manuscript.

I’ll be back at the end of the month with the rest of this chaos-soaked diary — the victories, the disasters, and all the unhinged brilliance that happens when a psychothriller drafts you back.

Stay tuned.

 And maybe send snacks.