A MONTH OF WRITING

I am considering participating in NaNoWriMo next month. I make an attempt at this just about every year and every year, I reach a sticking place where no words come to me and I stare at the winking cursor on the screen. Type something. Type something. Type something. Then all the things I am not clouds over all the things I want to be. I give up and walk away from it. I am real good at giving up on the hard stuff. Maybe it is time to dig into the hard stuff. Maybe I should stop laughing in the face of people who tell me I should write a book.

I sat down this morning to work out an outline. The first thing I wrote is “What is the story I want to tell?” That is as far as I got. The first thing I thought when I asked myself that question was “Chris”. It always come back to telling the story of Chris. Except the story isn’t really about him. It always ends up being about me. Me me me. There is nothing extraordinary about our love story. We met in the cafe during the end of our freshman year. Books were mentioned and Chris said to me, almost mockingly “Oh, and what kind of books do you like to read?” I remember narrowing my eyes at him and thinking “I’ll show you!” Then I told him that I liked Dean Koontz, Michael Crichton. I said that I’ve read some John Grisham, but his story lines are all the same and that sometimes I like to read a trashy romance novel. The look on his face shifted from mockery to impressed. A few weeks later we went on our first ‘date’. At the end of it he said “I really like you.” Chris’s honesty completely won me over.

That was it. From that moment on we were just a unit.

There is not much of a story there. No, the story always comes later with Chris’s death. I don’t like that story. I don’t like telling a story of what it is like to not be a unit. The sadness. The depression. The day to day missing of him. That story sucks. It could be a story about discovering my own identity without Chris, but I am not sure I actually have discovered my own identity. I am still trying to figure out who I am, who I am not. I went into Target today without a list or a plan. I ended up dumping twenty dollars worth of face stuff into my basket. I bought a lip mask. A fucking lip mask. Am I now that person who buys ridiculous masks for specific parts of my face? My chin is so broken out right now. I look like I am trying to recreate my puberty. Actually, I don’t think my skin was this bad during puberty. And see what I’ve done here? I’ve completely veered off and have changed the subject.

I can’t sit down for a month of writing if I don’t even know what story I want to tell. This feels like giving up before even starting. I am leaning towards a collection of stories, one centered around food. Probably because I’m hungry, but I can see something brewing now in my brain. Not a recipe book exactly, but a series of essays centered around the table. Table Stories. It could be a mix of stories from my youth, my time with Chris and now. Little bittersweet stories of memories.

Thanks for letting me brainstorm. I now have fourteen things on my outline and I am starting to get a little excited about writing. That’s a feeling I haven’t had in a while.

WRITE HERE

This is Halloween

See this Instagram photo by @elephant_soap * 3 likes

That's what it says in this block before I start writing. 'Write here...' Right here. Sometimes I roll both of those thing around in my head for a while. My right here sounds like Ed Sullivan. Jen Tucker posted something on Facebook yesterday asking for a show of hands for those participating in NaNoWriMo this month. I did not raise my hand even though I am sort of participating. This silly drivel of a children's book that I started has grown tentacles and teeth. It is way too long to read in one story time sitting, but I'm two yolk stories away from tying this piece of work up. That's more than I've accomplished with just about anything. So, can't stop me now! You have to sing that part. I figured I'd just keep going and then when it's all over, I'll go back in and cut out 75% of it, then send to Jen Tucker so she can illustrate it.

Jen Tucker doesn't know she's illustrating this book. Jen Tucker...you're illustrating this book. 

In other news, after finishing up the story about the second yolk, I publicly shamed my niece on Facebook after she posted inaccurate tabloid style 'news' of a political content. I did this for a couple of reasons. First of all she's already declared publicly that she isn't voting. So I feel like she's lost her right to voice an opinion on political matters. Secondly if you post things that are not factual, I am going to call you out on it. Thirdly, I think we need to be held accountable for the the things we say and post online. My niece ended up deleting her post, but did post something later about how the things that she posts online does not define who she is. I mulled this over for some time before I sent her a message.

I don't think the things we post online defines who we are, or at least I hope it doesn't. I do, however think that the things we post are a reflection of who we are or who we want to be. Every time we post something online, we are saying "hey! I find this to be relevant and important enough to share with all my followers!" and that's exactly what your followers see. They see the stuff that you find interesting and that makes an impression about you, your likes, your passions. You are making an impression on the world with the things you post. What kind of impression do you want to make on this world? It's kind of like that advice about dressing for the job you want. 

At the end of the day, I'd like people to look through my news feed and see someone who seeks out beauty in the mundane, passionate about finding truths, likes a good laugh and is always finding ways to be grateful. What does your online fingerprint say about you?

NANANANABOOBOO

Tap tap tap

"Tap tap tap"

I just realized that there is one week until the start of NaNoWriMo. Ok. Maybe I didn't just realize that. I've known all along. I just decided to realize right now only because I've been procrastinating on all things. So I might as well procrastinate on gearing myself up to write a novel in a month or something like that. Have I mentioned that I'm tired? I am tired. I don't even know why I'm tired. According to my Jawbone, I am a "stellar sleeper". It actually told me so in my weekly update. I am a little worried that my body's trying to tell me to eat a hamburger or a chunk of bloody meat. I am not going to do this, though I will confess to eating some bacon about a month ago. It was hidden in a breakfast sandwich (I ate it anyway). I know it's not a lack of iron that's making me lazy. I know that this is something that happens to me every Fall as the weather gets cooler. I am a bear. Rawr.

Here's a bit of surprising and or good news though. I finally get to wear the boots I bought months ago when Sorel was having a crazy sale. The insides of these boots are softer than babies. Also, this morning, I wiggled into a pair of skinny cords that I haven't worn since last winter and despite being a size smaller than what I normally wear, they are not tight on my waist at all. I am surprised by this because I haven't been on my bike in a week. In fact, I think my two wheeled days have come to an end for this year. Wah wah. It's really cold in the mornings! Since the weather has been wishy washy, we haven't turned on the heat. We turned it on once and then turned it off the next day and turned the air conditioning back on. So it's really cold in the mornings. There was a frantic moment last night when it was decided that I had to have my electric blanket plugged in but we couldn't find the cord. The cord that was still in the bed frame where I had left it when I took the blanket off the bed in the Spring. 

The alarm clock goes off in the mornings and it is still dark outside. Dark dark. The sun doesn't even look like it's ready to show it's face. Now the house is cold, but my bed it warm and toasty and I do not want to leave it. I end up spending the rest of the day dragging my body around while wishing I was still in that warm and toasty bed. This way of thinking takes up all the energy. When ever my brain starts to think about something else, like NaNoWriMo and some half-baked ideas I have going for that, I sort of just deflate. It seems like so much work! I've got a couple of fiction ideas that have a paragraph or two of a start, but I feel like there's to much research and thinking required. My other option is to return to the memoir that I already have 30,000 something words on, but I look at that one and say "BORING!" No one cares about that story. I don't even care about that story. That story is so weird and convoluted and has no ending. Which I guess is good considering it's a true story about my life. Which isn't over.

NaNoWriMo is not about getting all the facts straight or even getting all the i's dotted though. It's about getting the idea written all down into something usable. Then you can go back and straighten the facts and dot the i's. I have plenty of material for this exact exercise in writing. Does this mean I have just talked myself into another attempt at NaNoWriMo? At the very least I have now convinced myself that I should do it, but not completely decided on if I will do it. I have all week to think about it and guilt myself into it. That's usually how I get most think done. Guilt. I was a devout Catholic nun in a former life. The time change happens this weekend. Monday may roll around and my whole attitude about all things may be improved just because we set our clocks back an hour. Who knows?! Maybe seeing the sun come up when I am getting up will make me feel less lazy. 

I'm going to go take a nap. 

TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE

I'm sitting here looking at the calendar and it kind of makes me want to throw up. This is the last week of October. The very last week of October. I didn't even carve those pumpkins we put on the porch for Fall decorations. Wait...since I never carved scary faces on them, that means I can leave them out there as Thanksgiving decorations right? Harvest theme? I like to think Martha Stewart would be applauding my decorating ingenuity right now. She may even overlook that one small pot of mums where all the flowers are missing their petals because something ate them. Needless to say that I've let the bathroom remodel consume my month of October. So much so that I didn't realize that November was right around the corner. November should come with a concierge or social secretary because as I look at the calendar, I start to hyperventilate. 

November is also National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). I knew it was coming up and the idea of it has been tickling the back of my brain, but I haven't said any thing about it. A couple of days ago, Michael said "hey, are you going to do your novel writing thing next month?" and I kind of just stood there gaping at him. First of all, I repeat, I have not said a word about NaNoWriMo since this time last year. Secondly, I didn't even know he was paying attention. Actually, I'm kind of impressed. I honestly thought the only thing on his radar right now was baseball. After I got past the shock of the question, I managed to mumble out something like "I don't know." Because, I really don't know.

I'm kind of in a mood of letting everything fall to shit and just starting over in the New Year. I feel fat and lumpy. Things around the house seem kind of dirty. The garden is an over grown mess. I mowed over tomatoes last week. I know I shouldn't eat the cookies that someone brought into work. I know that there's going to be a bucket of candy sitting in this house Friday night and that I shouldn't sit on the couch and shove miniature candy bars into my face all evening. But I really feel like throwing my hands in the air saying "next year, I'm going to lose 10 lbs! But for now I'm going to be a lazy slob!" That mindset is sort of applying itself to every aspect of my life. Next year, I'm going to work harder on being a better photographer. Next year, I'm going to do better on having activities planned for Cabbage weekends. Next year, I will write more. Next year I will be a better version of myself or the self I am right now.

So...getting myself involved in NaNoWriMo this year doesn't really fall in line with my whole fat lazy slob plan. In fact it's just the opposite of that. It will require me to make time between chores and The Walking Dead for writing and finishing up that stupid memoir I started forever and a day ago. Michael even said that I could just pick up where I left off and I can think of a million excuses for why I can't just pick up where I left off. I am more prepared to get out of doing NaNoWriMo than I am prepared to participate. I am all set and ready to not do this. Except Michael followed up his with questions with "I really think you should." For some strange reason he believes in my writing. He thinks I can write something longer than a blog entry. Part of me wants to laugh at this belief and part of me wants to actually believe he's right.

I guess that means I'm doing this. Maybe I'm doing this because someone else believes in me.  Maybe I'm doing this to pull me out of a slump. Maybe I'm doing this as a last ditch effort to salvage the year. Sending out 2014 with an accomplishment. Something other than gaining ten pounds.