Slain Dragons Aren't Fun

It's the 20th of November and I've just surpassed the 50K word goal for NaNoWriMo. I have 10-12K words more to write to wrap up the story but for all intents and purposes, I've won NaNoWriMo again this year. This is the third year I've participated in this fiction writing adventure and quite possibly, my last.

In 2009, I wrote over 50K words in just 14 days and didn't enjoy the process at all. I was 'in it to win it,' to borrow a popular phrase. The story I penned was one that had been rattling around my head for ages and I served merely as the scribe to my brain in getting it to paper. NaNoWriMo had always been a formidable opponent and I wanted to see if I could conquer it. It was a great feeling when I did but I still didn't like my story.

In 2010, I wanted to prove to myself that 2009 hadn't been a fluke, a case of beginner's luck. I had just an inkling of a story plot the day before the contest began and it was thrilling to watch it unfold, often in directions I hadn't planned. I didn't know how the story would end but I knew that I would win NaNoWriMo. The writing was flowing too well not to. I passed 50K words on the 25th of November and officially won a second time.

This year, I have written in the moment. I am plotting as I go, making decisions on the fly, and turning my characters lives upside down at every opportunity. I'm playing with story writing and breaking rules and writing recklessly because these are the only motivations I have this year. I knew on November 1 that I would win NaNoWriMo again. When I set my mind to do something, I just do it. I'm enjoying the nonsensical aspects of my story telling this year but overall, I'm not enjoying NaNoWriMo. 

If the goal were to write 100K words, I would need to step up my game a bit. If the goal were to write 50K words on a topic of someone else's choosing, with specific guidelines, that would be a challenge. If the goal were to write and edit 50K words of fiction suitable for submission to a publisher, that would be a monumental feat. But as it stands, NaNoWriMo isn't the behemoth challenge I once believed it to be. I've conquered it and now, the fun is gone.

It may be time to bury the dragon.

What Is the Point?

We were the only ones sitting in the coffee shop. Others walked in, ordered and left again but we were the only two who decided to take a seat and watch for a while. I love sitting at one of two tables in that shop. One gives me a view of the main street and a glimpse of the park; the other, an only slightly-obstructed view of the kitchen and the coffee bean storage room. I love peeking in that room. Huge burlap bags of beans lying around like relatives after Thanksgiving dinner... prone, still and a bit bloated. If I liked coffee, that room would be my idea of heaven.

That morning I had chosen the table by the window. It was a busy day and the lure of passersby was just too appealing. I didn't even pull out my phone or journal, I just sat transfixed by what was moving past the window. He had chosen a table on the other side of the room, but since the room is only about ten feet across we were well within conversational distance. I felt him watching me for a few minutes, while I watched the world outside, and then turned to ask him if this town was his home. It wasn't, we were both just pulled here for different reasons that morning but that was enough of an opening that he walked over and sat down with me. We sat in companionable silence, watching. 

Finally he asked a question. I answered and asked him another question. We vollied back and forth for a while, the traffic on the street temporarily forgotten. He asked what I did for fun. I rattled off the standard response of hobbies and then threw out, "And, I'm a writer." Without missing a beat he said with a bit of a chuckle, "Really? I've always hated reading. I just don't see the point." Without missing a beat, I excused myself to get a refill of my herbal tea. As I made my way past the table and to the door, I held up my watch and said, "I have to go. Have a good day." 

He was left to watch through the window as I became just another figure walking by, walking away. If asked why I didn't stay, sadly, I just didn't see the point.

Journal Glimpses 03

Journal Entry - 11Mar11

Why does it feel like a new home is necessary for me to be who I want to be? I dream about sipping tea in my new cozy den. Having friends over for deep conversations and lighthearted laughter. Walking around my neighborhood and feeling part of the community. Can I not sip tea in the den I have? Invite friends over now? Walk around this neighborhood? 

I think the answer lies in the feeling. This house feels like a solitary house; a single person lives here. It's starting to feel less me, more sterile, uninviting. The house in my heart feels warm, welcoming, soothing, communal. 

This house shines.

The new house glows. 

It's hard to articulate the difference but it's there. And it's huge. 

Script Frenzy 2011

I made the decision to participate in the Script Frenzy Challenge on a lark. Writing a script has never been a dream of mine but I did want to do something new this year in terms of writing and I saw it as a good way to practice writing dialogue and goodness knows, I can use help in that area.

The challenge was a lot more difficult than I imagined it would be... not because of the writing but because of all the other time commitments I've had this month and the few really nice days we've had when sitting inside writing felt more like torture than enjoyment. Still, I sacrificed a few things I wanted to do and took advantage of all the rainy evenings we've had and knocked it out. I finished late last week.

I'm glad I experienced it and I really enjoyed learning more about script writing (thank you, Scrivener, for formatting help!) but I don't know that I'll do it again. As before the challenge, writing scripts just isn't a dream of mine. But I set the goal, mapped out what I needed to do and did it. If nothing else it helped me remember how good I am at following through. I just wish all my goals were this straightforward and quick to accomplish!

It's My Life and I'll Write How I Want To

Come here. Lean in a little closer. Closer... that's it. Now, please, hear me when I say this:

I have no burning desire to be published.

There, that felt good. 

I'm not interested in asking my writer friends to become beta readers or submitting query letter after query letter to agents or chasing down publishers and begging them to love me. I couldn't care less about seeing a novel with my name on it for sale or holding a book signing. I'm not asking writing to become my new career nor am I willing to sacrifice the career I have for my writing. I have definite ideas of what I want my life to be right now and that isn't it. 

I was told recently that I wasn't a real writer because I wasn't trying to get published. I've only been white-hot angry a few times in my life and this was one of them. The only time I've been more angry was when I was told I wasn't a real woman because I wasn't a mother. White-hot might be putting it mildly.  

As politely as I could, I told that person I wasn't interested in an opinion other than my own on the subject, and to kindly take it elsewhere. I can be a writer in whatever manner I choose. I have no doubt, I am a writer. 

I'm a writer because I've written every day for years and don't see that changing any time soon. My average fill rate of a handwritten journal is about one per month. I have notebooks on the nightstand, in the den, by the sofa, on the kitchen counter, two in my work bag and one in my purse. I blog regularly (even when you don't see the posts) and I have Word documents on my personal and work laptops for jotting down ideas when inspiration strikes. I've completed a handful of poems, several short stories and two novels and have three novels in process. I am developing a new writing technique that takes advantage of my unique style and learning more about my voice in the process. I'm taking two creative writing courses this spring and I've entered the Script Frenzy challenge in April. 

I'm a writer because I write. Plain and simple. 

Might I one day be published? Perhaps. Might I seek out those beta readers and agents and publishers one day, compelled to see one of my works published? Perhaps. But today, and in the foreseeable future, I don't have the burning desire. Just don't confuse a lack of desire in that area with a lack of passion for the craft. My passion for writing is unequaled. So no, I may never be published but don't ever tell me I'm not a writer.

You don't want to see what's beyond white-hot.

Journal Glimpses 02

Journal Entry - 06Feb11

I'm spending too much time looking backward, ruing and regretting, instead of forward, anticipating and expecting. I need to turn around. I need to have more faith. I need to believe that happiness will find me again. I need to know in my heart that what I dream of is real. I need to be open, have a healed heart. I need to be ready. It will be worth the wait, the pain, the tears, the loneliness, the ache, the fears. 

The future will be everything I've been dreaming it to be and more. And less. Because that's what Life is. 

More and less.

More or less.

A Life with Curves

Since the beginning of the year I've written my Morning Pages and some sort of journaling every day. I can't remember when I've spent so much time putting pen to paper. Yes, I write all the time but usually I'm doing so on my laptop, tapping the keys and editing on the fly. Actually pushing a pen across the page, having to cross out words instead of deleting them, drawing arrows to show continuation of thought instead of cutting and pasting to move things around, is unusual for me. And I'm loving it.

I learned from one of my coaches that different creative parts of the brain are involved when you use your hands to write or draw than when you use a keyboard. I didn't really believe it at first but I'm starting to. I don't know that it's scientifically proven (I don't know how the brain works, believe it or not) but I can attest that my mind works at a different pace and feels more deeply when I'm writing with a pen on paper. 

When I sat down on New Year's Day and made my first journal entry, I loved all but one aspect of the experience. I was appalled at how bad my handwriting was. It wasn't illegible but it wasn't... graceful. The letters were small, sort of crammed together, and there was no curvature to anything. It was all angles and straight lines and it looked like if you leaned into it, you would take out an eye. 

According to the people who study what our handwriting says about us, my handwriting was telling me I was introspective (small letters), feeling tense and restricting myself in some way (pointing, loopless letters). I suppose that could be true. I remember feeling excited about the new year but not at all sure how I was going to accomplish everything I wanted to. Excitement can feel a lot like tension when you have no idea what's in store for you.

Today, I was just noticing my handwriting again (and thus, this post was born). My letters are now of average size, evenly spaced and visibly more appealing. All my g's, j's, y's and the like have elegant curvy loops that look a bit like flower petals falling on the page. 

According to those handwriting people again, I'm feeling adaptable (average sized letters), more spontaneous, relaxed and sure of myself (big loops) and have an open mind and enjoy trying new things (full letters). 

In the past five weeks, I've joined a hiking club and a writing group, registered for a photography class and a painting class, and registered for four additional classes aimed at increasing my creativity. I would say I am feeling much more adaptable, spontaneous and up for new things, too.

Now, whether my new outlook has really changed my handwriting, I don't know. I think a great deal of the change had to do with the fact that I barely wrote more than a grocery list before January and with practice, it has just naturally improved. But it was interesting to learn that the two could have a correlation. I have no intention of stopping my daily writing practice so I'll have to monitor it and see if I notice any more changes.

What about you? Do you like your handwriting? Do you think it speaks to how you're feeling on the inside? 

Journal Glimpses 01

Since so much of my life is going into my journal these days and I had hoped to share more of myself here this year, I decided it might be an interesting idea to post snippets of some of my journal entries once in a while. I promise to spare you the really messy, ranty and ultra-personal things. Nobody needs to see that. 

Journal Entry - 15Jan2011

I wonder, sometimes, about how it will play out -- the meeting of my forever love. Will it be a chance encounter, a planned event or the igniting of an existing friendship? Will I recognize him right away or will I have to be coaxed and led to the realization that 'this one' is 'THE ONE' for me?

I met a man today. I was simultaneously at ease and tingly. There was no instant of knowing that this was something special -- no real overt spark of chemistry between us -- but there was delight and daring and a date to see each other again. 

Was this a beginning? 

What I'm Up To

My heart was broken when I tried to register for the photography class my friend David teaches and it was full. This was the class I should have completed last fall but one week after it started, my house was robbed, my camera stolen, and I had to drop out. Due to the fact that David is such a well-loved local and a great teacher, the class this spring has already reached capacity. So, I did the unthinkable. I registered for a different photography course with someone else. 

I know. 

My only other option was to wait until the fall to take the next offering of David's class but I just couldn't see waiting another nine months before really learning my camera. Thankfully, David understood. He really wants me to get more involved in photography so he was all for me taking this other class, which starts in February.

So, February.

Not only am I in Mondo Beyondo this month and next (more on Mondo Beyondo to come in another post) and I have the photography class starting on the 3rd (for which I already have an assignment!), I also joined a writing group two weeks ago that has a writing assignment due by the 8th, and I joined a hiking club that has a hike on Sunday (and every other week the rest of the year). Besides all that, I have started daily practices of Morning Pages and yoga in the morning and Tai Chi or yoga in the evenings. 

(deep cleansing breath)

And, so, having filled my calendar to within an inch of its life, I decided I needed to take on just one more thing so I registered for a painting class. It starts February 24th and though there isn't a pre-class assignment, the supply list was long enough to choke a horse. I purchased about 3/4 of the items last night and I've already spent over $150. 

Yowza.

I said this year was all about INVESTing and I have always been an overachiever when it comes to my goals. Honestly, though, I hope I can get all this frenetic craziness behind me by the second quarter of the year and then I can just relax and practice my new hobbies and hone my skills and enjoy everything I've learned. Or, register for the advanced classes. 

I know. 

Tug of Writing War

Whenever I open the file that contains my novel, I have an overwhelming urge to write a blog post. When I come over here to write a blog post, the main characters of my novel dance through my mind and beg for me to continue their story. 

And you now know how I'm spending my morning.