Most people consider 13 an unlucky number, but I’ve always liked it. But then, I’m a redhead, and I’ve been led to believe we’re rather … contrary. For the superstitious among us, though, it’s hard to accept the notion that we make our own luck, or fortune, or fate. Whatever you want to call it. And it’s easy to blame bad luck on broken mirrors, ladders, black cats, and innocent numbers.

Now, it’s not a Friday the 13th, the unluckiest of all the 13ths, but I still got to thinking about how writers work. While we’re not as superstitious as baseball players (well, most of us), I know I have certain places I like to write, “lucky” places that never fail to get those creative juices flowing. Luck in narrative is something that many writers lust after. It’s an intangible that can’t be explained, but you know it when it happens; it’s that magic moment when your characters’ voices emerge almost effortlessly; it’s that sudden burst of creativity that makes a three-hour, 3,000-word sprint feel like you were merely along for the ride.

You never know when it’s going to hit, either! For me, it seems to happen at the most inopportune moments: as I’m about to go to sleep, or, worse, at three a.m. (it seems every time I create a character with night owl tendencies, it comes back to bite me on the ass). If you’re lucky, those middle-of-the-night ideas stay with you until a more reasonable hour, even if that’s days later.

So, fellow WriMos, happy November 13th. I hope today is lucky for you!