The New York Times has a nice writeup on the National Novel Writing Month -- the challenge to push out a 50,000 word novel in a month.

As one would expect, the results are usually disastrous, as they well should be. Every time I hear about this it makes me want to give it a try next year. Pushing out 50,000 words in a month is less about writing the novel and more about the experience of trying to sew coherence for 50,000 words. It's like running a marathon for the experience of the marathon with no intention of ever becoming a professional marathon runner -- nor, probably with the intention of ever running another one.

During the month the writers use various tricks to keep writing when they have absolutely nothing left to say — internal monologues, for instance, or impromptu sex scenes or the sudden appearance of a new character.

Which is not unlike how I try to steer my life when I've run out of things to say.

For all the literary masochists that can't wait 'till next year, there's always the January spinoff to take part in.