If This is November, This Must Be NaNoWriMo

I'm about to write a first draft of the greatest suspense story ever written. 
That means it's almost November, NaNoWriMo / National Novel Writing
Month.  I'll struggle all month and November 30, having met the 50,000-
word writing goal, I'll receive a winner's certificate via email testifying
that I can write a novel in 30 days.

 As if. 

I have done this NaNoWriMo thing before; for thirty days I ignored the
world, the family, the housework and real life; the results are available as
e-books on Amazon.  I labored four times; obsessed four times, and
produced something that interested me enough to edit and polish it for
months afterward.  It is a good thing.  But I can't really write a decent
suspense novel in 30 days.  I doubt anyone can without a secretary and
a housekeeper, and anyway plotting is much more complicated than
some new NaNoWriMo participants know.  

First, my plots begin when I find an intriguing character and place
him/her/it in a dramatic setting I know really well.  Then I twist the place
so it's dangerous.  (Yes, this is standard stuff.  I'm just sayin'.)  This time
around, I have already watched a married couple and their tragic child
for two years.  I met them in the pop song Hijo De la Luna recorded by
the Spanish group Mecano.  Further complication: the song came to my
attention as a crazed fan of Montserrat Caballe, the operatic "voice of
the century."  (She recorded pop songs and they were hits.)  Her
amazing voice, set against the the full, deep, bloody-red symphonic
orchestral tones, would inspire a stone to write.  Then there is the lyric:
forbidden love, conjuring, a wedding, and the husband kills his wife and
deserts his infant son high atop a mountain.  The moon adopts the child. 

Further compelication:  as a former journalist I am ever mindful of that
nasty word, plaigiarism.  For months the thought of writing what my
fevered brain presented to my unwilling inward eye filled me with fear. 
And yes, I am jealous of the leader of Mecano, who actually wrote the
thing.  How could so few words be packed with so much drama, color,
and beauty?  The title I have in mind for November's opus is A Murder of
Crones.  I have two other titles in reserve in case all the variables take
over.  I mean, all the original stuff; the kid as a man. 

My More than Sister, last year's effort, TA-DAH, came out this week.  It's
for Kindles too. 

By the way: If my claim "greatest" suspense novel seems excessive, it is
because if I don't absolutely obsess over my current brainchild, I'll never
finish giving it birth.  So bear with me; Novel Number 23 may be The
One.