When I first started NaNo way back in November of 2013, my family entered what we might call “a state of emergency.” All the hours of extraneous labor I invested into my domestic life after my full-time job was spent at the end of the day, I began to redirect toward writing. And it showed. Laundry piled up, dishes were abandoned, stacked in the sink with crusts of spaghetti sauce and three-day old eggs my daughter refused to eat festering in a cesspool of neglect. The television was on a constant rotation of Team Umi Zumi and Curious George, and my husband often came home, trying, like the supportive hellofaguy he is, to mask the disappointment in his face when he had to reheat his dinner in the microwave. But it was all about THE BOOK. Mommy is on a mission, guys, so cut her a little slack, okay?