I've found out some very interesting things about myself in the first eight days of the NaNoWriMo challenge. For instance, I believe I will be one of those authors you listen to on the Oprah show who says, "For my award-winning book, I had to throw out the first 45 pages.""Why?" Oprah would ask, obviously stunned.
And I'd have to tell her, "Because nothing happened until page 46."
It's true. Although I didn't set out to do it, I have inadvertently created a village composed entirely of direct descendants of Mary Poppins, "practically perfect in every way."You would love this place! I do. But guess what? No editor will love it. It's not fraught with enough peril and conflict. (Did I say enough? I meant any.)
So today after work, when I come home to add 2,000 words to my village and characters, it's no more Mr. Nice Guy. Now, it will be "Here comes the judge." (sigh) But I really like these guys, and I hate to be a meanie. I know, though, it will be a better story once I get in there and really mix it up. Hearts will pound. Tears will be shed. Victory cries will resound. Maybe even awards will be won.
Robert Frost and I are in the same boat (or is it snowy woods?). I have "miles to go before I sleep."
You gotta love a website that gives you lots of free stuff while they beat you into writing a 50,000-word novel in 30 days! For example, how about this nifty word count widget that I can share with all of you on my blog? Check back here, and you will see my progress in real, live numbers. (I'm up to 12,440 words at the end of my sixth day!) Love it. A big thanks to Paul Hawke, NaNoWriMo's Author-Programmer extraordinaire, for creating such a spiffy doohickey. Thanks, Paul!
First it was the hamburger: an almost imperceptible downgrade to a smaller bun and patty, all the while maintaining the price. Then it was yogurt: down from 8 ounces to 6. Same price. The toilet paper industry has evidently joined the bandwagon, so to speak. When replenishing the toilet paper in our bathroom and pitching the now-empty roll, I noticed the new roll (Quilted Northern, for those of you who wonder) is approximately one-quarter of an inch shorter than the old one. And you guessed it: same price. Pretty soon, they'll tell us a gallon (of whatever) is now a new, sleeker 125 ounces rather than the wasteful 128 ounces. And guess what? Same price.
It happened. And only on Day 2! I got so involved in my story I almost forgot to pick up my daughter from school. Almost. Good news, though. My two-day total is 4,816 words. Yippee!!
Today's the first day of National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo)--the day when founder Chris Baty cajoles thousands of people across the globe to throw themselves unhindered into the world of literary abandon for the entire month of November. These people--myself included, this year--put aside laundry, eating, sleep, and possibly even personal hygiene to attain the all-important goal of producing a 50,000-word novel between November 1st and 30th. All for the title of "winner" and the bragging rights that come with it.
I'm writing a middle grade novel. To make the NaNoWriMo 50,000-word goal, I have to write an average of 1,667 words a day. I'm off to a good start on my first day--2,266 words! Are you intrigued? There's still time to join. Go to www.nanorwrimo.org to check it out. And check back here often. I'll let you know how I'm doing.
I feel like I live in a wind tunnel. My eyes pop open every day, and I'm instantly swept up in the hurricane-force winds of To-Do Lists, my daughter's School-Piano-Volleyball-AndWhateverElse Schedule, and Other Responsibilities I have as a WifeParentFriendEmployee. I end many days exhausted, my hair a tangled mess.
My dear friend, Wendy Fields--who, lucky for me, is also my coworker--made a simple, but profound statement. Off the top of her head. Without a long period of rumination. As we talked together about workplace frustrations. She said, "We set goals to give ourselves a place to land."
A place to land. I like that.
After some consideration, I've decided my place to land doesn't have to be life-altering or memoir-worthy. Something simple will do. A goal that gives me a big red "X" on which to land before my head reaches the pillow and I check for light leaks each night. And it can be different every day.Today, I will eat simply and take a walk.
Photo by etech. If sneezing were an Olympic event, my mother would be a gold medalist. When she sneezes, she lets loose as if there is no more important work in the universe at that moment. No sneezing into a tissue, the crook of her elbow, or her hands. She just wrinkles up her face, tilts her head back in anticipation of the coming "big one," and lets it rip. No feminine, almost-inaudibly squeaked out "chew!" She rares back, screams out "A-HA!" as if she's having the most astounding gestalt of her entire existence, and finishes off with a deeply satisfying, belly-jiggling laugh.
I'm used to this event. In fact, after practicing Mom's technique for myself, I've taken the view there is no better way to spend my sneezing time. For the uninitiated, however, witnessing Mom's sneeze can be a bit disconcerting. After your initial astonishment, your eyes will grow wide as dinner plates, and you will pronounce the most sincere "Bless you!" you have ever in the past , or would hope to utter in the future. You will be pulled into her laughter, and when the giggling between the two of you has ceased, you can't help but feel that somehow you are the one who has been blessed.
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