I didn’t think I’d finish Nanowrimo this year. Although, it is the first year I haven’t been attempting Nanowrimo while in school, which I think plays a major role. Last year I had finals, the year before it was midterms. The timing worked out for me this year, but it may never work out for me again.
My book isn’t really finished yet. It’s a little out of order and although it has a beginning and an ending and something of a middle, it seems like it’s missing a lot of transition and there are still a lot of loose ends. I’m going to keep working on it and I’ll participate in the revision months, January and February. It’s further along than I’ve gotten, so after that, who knows?
I’m trying not to get ahead of myself, but this may actually be the year I finish NaNoWriMo. I still have to get through Thanksgiving, family staying with us, and a big coding project, but I’m optimistic. I’ve been participating in NaNoWriMo word wars for the past few days (with the exception of yesterday) and it turns out, anything that appeals to my competitive nature is great for my productivity. In the past three hours I’ve written 4,000 words, meaning that I have a cushion of two days now. I may be sacrificing quality for speed, but I think it would be worth it if I actually have 50,000 words at the end of this.
I’m starting to feel a little like a writer. My book has a beginning and an end, which for me isn’t bad. There still isn’t much of a middle to speak of but there are a lot of characters. One could argue there are two many characters.
I think if I went back through every post I’ve ever written about the story I’m working on, or any story really, the ratio of complaining to feeling good about things would be an even 50-50. And a love/hate relationship is probably the best I can hope for.
I’ve written a total of 82,488 words (15,267 words in the last nine days) for my current story and I don’t like any of them. I don’t really think that’s a problem right now. I haven’t even really begun the editing process and if I ever finish the plot may look entirely different. But still, looking at it objectively today is making it hard to start writing today. So, I’ve written nothing.
I’m a little conflicted about NaNoWriMo this year. I like that it forces me to write more than I normally would, but I don’t like that the writing itself comes across as forced. I don’t think I write my best stuff during NaNoWriMo because I’m focusing on a word count rather than quality. I’ve started referring to my book (to myself) as No One Questions The Walrus, and I can’t really remember why. But it seemed funny at the time. So I’m really just creating a lot of work for myself in the editing stage. Still, you have to start somewhere.
I’ll actually need a Halloween costume this year. In the past I’ve put together last minute costumes that were either generic, or were made from cardboard boxes. I’ve narrowed it down to a few options, one of which being Isadora Duncan. I really liked that idea, but I’ve never dressed up as a real person, and I’m a little bit conflicted about it. So, what do you guys think?
Some days I remember both my name and the name of my company when answering the phone. Some days I remember to bring an actual lunch rather than a block of cheese grabbed from the fridge on my way out the door. Some days I even manage to leave work at 5:30 without the itchy feeling that I’d forgotten something. And other days, I’m wandering around downtown with a high-heeled shoe filling with blood while I try and fail to deliver a sensible pantsuit to a TV judge.
My GPS has failed me, insisting that a partially gravel parking lot catty-cornered from a detention facility I didn’t know existed, was in fact the high-rise I was looking for. I picked my way through the gravel in my at-one-point-sensible-mid-heeled shoes, towards the “pay here” sign. My plastic dry-cleaners bag rustled with each step as the pantsuit swung out behind me in the wind like a conspicuously purple banner. There was a guy standing at the ticket machine. He was wearing what looked like a work uniform, complete with official-looking lanyard, messing with the machine. Fixing it, I assumed. I ask him if I’m close to the building. “Nah! I’m going to the courthouse.” He pointed to a squat building behind us. I was looking for a judge, but it wasn’t the right building. As I turned to leave he called out the name of the building I was looking for to a guy that just walked up. The man shook his head, but a homeless man on the corner picked up the call.
I got in my car again, writing off the three dollars I paid to park. A man carrying what looked like a car antennae with the tip dragging on the ground, asked me for two dollars and fifty cents exactly. A prison transport van drives past me. “You are here” my GPS chirps over and over again, at an intersection, in front of a wig store, at a hotel. I can see the building, I just can’t figure out how to get there. So I ditch my car at a parking deck and walk there.
In hindsight, the building wasn’t hard to find at all. What was hard to find, was my car and the nondescript parking lot I parked it in.