THE words NaNoWriMo might sound like something Robin Williams would’ve said in the 1970s sitcom, Mork and Mindy.

However, for those in the know, it’s the rallying call for would-be authors to throw themselves into the national, annual novel-writing project that takes place in November.

It’s the month of challenges, it seems. While some people are refraining from shaving for Movember - the annual event involving the growing of moustaches to raise awareness of various cancers - others are putting pen to paper, or tapping furiously at their keyboards in a quest to write thousands of words every day to try and pull together a first draft of a novel.

I signed up to the month-long challenge last year in a bid to fulfil my life-long ambition of writing a novel. I lasted about three days. I couldn’t keep up with the daily word count demands.

People say everyone has a book in them. It’s getting it out that’s the problem.

Who has the time, the drive, the dedication and discipline to write so many words, and good ones to boot, day-in day-out, when there are so many distractions in the way? I admire anyone who has completed a first draft, never mind had a book published.

The launch of this year’s NaNoWriMo took me by surprise, my brain so relaxed from a week away from work and domestic chores that I didn’t even register it was November 1st for several hours.

Twitter alerted me to the fact the 2016 writing challenge had been launched. It was mid-morning on my day off. People were already cheering on fellow writers in the Twittersphere, sharing advice, seeking support and counting up the coffees they’d already consumed.

For a moment I convinced myself that this could be the year, my year, when I throw caution to the wind, ignore the overflowing laundry basket and mounting piles of ironing, and join ‘the NaNo community of creatives’.

For a whole month I could be self indulgent and devote every spare moment I have to amassing the necessary volume of words to form the founding block of a new best-seller.

Then I remembered one of that day’s ‘to do’ jobs: locate the Thunderbird-like costume that would double up as an astronaut’s suit for my youngest son’s date with Tim Peake this weekend.

His name was one of six picked from a hat in his school assembly for the honour of meeting the British astronaut at the Space Conference at the University of York on Saturday. And the essential pint-size silver catsuit was nowhere to be seen.

My husband is forever telling me to stop hoarding. I can only think I did a rare thing and took his advice one day and threw the boot-sale bargain away.

Instead of sitting at my laptop, roughing out a draft plot, I spent much of the day searching the house, ransacking every conceivable hiding place for toys and dressing up outfits, then delved deep into the wash bin and then braved our attic which is crammed with outgrown clothes and sentimentality, but to no avail.

Plenty of words sprang to mind then, not befitting a best seller I’m sure.

The internet was no help. Any available astronaut costumes had to be ordered, and there was no guarantee it would arrive in time. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to spend £18 anyway. Even if it is for Major Peake.

So instead of joining the world of wordsmiths, I spent the first day of NaNoWriMo handwashing an old fancy dress favourite that will have to do the job. Topped off with a silver-foil hat, my creation won’t win me rave reviews (or even a thank you, I’m sure) but I can tick it off my list. The best seller will have to wait another year. Nanu Nanu.