I wasn't planning on participating in the National Write a Novel month. Some friends of mine kept referring to NaNoWriMo. I kept wondering, what the heck is that? So I looked it up and I thought... I gotta, at least, try it.
I was feeling quite creative and had a really great character to develop... or so I thought. After about a week, I realized, how can I write about him and his thoughts, habits etc. in thirty days?. They say to write what you know. I know "her" pretty good, I think. But, him? Sorta. So, my creative ego deflated without the steam to keep it going! He was the fire, she was the pot of water, without the two... no steam. Ha!
Realistically, if one is to be serious about writing a "novel", one technically needs to have an outline and have the characters and scenes developed, etc etc. I'm not very well organized. So, getting back to left brain must be in the future for me if this thing is going to take off. New Years resolutions here I come!
Rather than just give up, after "he" disappeared from my consciousness, I decided to continue with what I have spent time developing... "her", the character loosely based on someone I know.
The rules of NaNoWriMo is that you complete 50,000 words... any 50,000 words. There are serious authors who use this opportunity to take all the work they've arranged throughout the year to put their story together. Forced fulfillment maybe? And a few have actually completed and published. Bravo!
So if one already has an outline, characters, scenes, etc. one can apply them towards their participation. At first I thought that would be cheating, but after reading some of the comments by others in their forum, I realized it was common. The whole point is committing to write daily and help the writer to grow. 1666 words a day meets the goal in one month. I figured it out that I could spend one hour a day at average typing speed. However, I forgot to include time for thinking! For the amount of time it takes to go with the creative flow and to go back and read over what you have so far! That takes hours. Good thing I had time available to play with this.
Even with my character, I had to do some major work getting the story to flow even after I dropped her male friend (or whatever he is going to be.friend, brother, lover, soul mate?) See? I didn't even have an identity label cut out for him!! What was I thinking? Well, of course, I wasn't thinking. I was creating! Like an artist who runs out of paint, I had too large a picture in mind!
The best thing I learned from this, is I have entirely too much junk coming into my daily emails which are superfluous and time wasting. Sure, it's fun to read what's on sale at fill in the blank dot com, and recieve Green Living tips, and recipes, and free coupons. but how important is it in the greater scheme of things? Not only was I cheating myself, I was cheating my family. I could be facebooking my grandkids! I had intended to sign up for those extraneous emails again, but I'm glad I haven't. The one that I've kept always gives me my evening smile, so that's staying. "I can has cheezburger, LOLcats" are my weakness.
Wednesday
Monday
Blizzard Moving
The blizzard had blinded us for so many miles, I felt, that night, as though I were in a dark frozen dream. We were all exhausted from the stress and strain of moving. Everyone in the family had helped load furniture and boxes onto the borrowed farm truck and our old run-down Studebaker.
My face was raw and chapped from sticking it out the window. This way I could yell at my mother when she drove too close to the edge of the raod. No heater, no defrost. I propped my numb feet on a box of pots and pans that rattled loudly whenever we hit a pothole. Each time the noise jolted me into alert wakefulness.
It was impossible to judge the conditions of these narrow country roads. Not daring to stop anywhere, we just kept going. My mother sat hunched, with fingers tightly clutched, over the steering wheel, peering vainly through the frosted windshield. She stuck her head out the window as often as I did to make sure she didn’t drive into a ditch.
Roger sat upright between us on the front seat drowsing lightly. At the age of eight he was no longer little enough to curl up to sleep. His long legs were splayed over the driveshaft-hump on the floor. Wendy, still a little butterball at six and a half was asleep on the floor, between the pots and pans and the bump. Her face rested on Roger’s knees. They reminded me of two played out puppies curled together, oblivious to the cold.
When we finally arrived at our new house, I wasn’t disappointed. My excitement grew when I saw, what appeared to me, a mansion rising out of the wild countryside. Adrenaline pumped my curiosity to explore. The snow had stopped blowing. It was just lightly floating down in clumps.
“We made it!” my mother breathed triumphantly. I could clearly see relief erasing the tension from her face.
“Hurray!” the kids yelled.
“I thought you guys were asleep.” I moaned.
“They should be!” admonished my mother. Then, turning to me, she said, “Take them upstairs and get them to bed. And...” she added, “you, go to bed, yourself.”
“Aww, Mom!” I whined. “Can’t I just look around a little bit, first?”
“It’s past midnight; please do what I asked.” She grabbed up the noise making box to haul off to the kitchen. “Besides, if you have so much energy, you can stay up and help unload!”
I didn’t need a second warning. “Okay, I’ll go to bed.” I conceded. “Come on, you two, let’s go find someplace to sleep.”
“I can put my own self to bed.” Roger muttered.
Entering a large hall leading to the staircase, the three of us “oohed and aahhed” at the beautiful woodwork of stairs and banister.
“This is rich people’s house’” my awestricken little sister cooed.
“Yeah.” Echoed Roger as we climbed the two flights to the next floor. We wanted so badly to explore our new home, but exhaustion overtook us. My father and old brother had leaned the mattresses against the wall, and had already left to go get another load. Roger claimed the room the mattresses were in and pushed the first one to the floor, grabbed a blanket from the box nearby. Wendy and I struggled with another mattress yanking, pulling, pushing and sliding it down the large hall to another room. Little did we know how cold that room would be. We slept in our winter coats with a blanket pulled tightly around us,
I laid awake staring at the bare windows as the frost turned to ice. It wasn't until the next day when my father pointed out that the radiator was turned off. If only we had known!
It was impossible to judge the conditions of these narrow country roads. Not daring to stop anywhere, we just kept going. My mother sat hunched, with fingers tightly clutched, over the steering wheel, peering vainly through the frosted windshield. She stuck her head out the window as often as I did to make sure she didn’t drive into a ditch.
Roger sat upright between us on the front seat drowsing lightly. At the age of eight he was no longer little enough to curl up to sleep. His long legs were splayed over the driveshaft-hump on the floor. Wendy, still a little butterball at six and a half was asleep on the floor, between the pots and pans and the bump. Her face rested on Roger’s knees. They reminded me of two played out puppies curled together, oblivious to the cold.
When we finally arrived at our new house, I wasn’t disappointed. My excitement grew when I saw, what appeared to me, a mansion rising out of the wild countryside. Adrenaline pumped my curiosity to explore. The snow had stopped blowing. It was just lightly floating down in clumps.“We made it!” my mother breathed triumphantly. I could clearly see relief erasing the tension from her face.
“Hurray!” the kids yelled.
“I thought you guys were asleep.” I moaned.
“They should be!” admonished my mother. Then, turning to me, she said, “Take them upstairs and get them to bed. And...” she added, “you, go to bed, yourself.”
“Aww, Mom!” I whined. “Can’t I just look around a little bit, first?”
“It’s past midnight; please do what I asked.” She grabbed up the noise making box to haul off to the kitchen. “Besides, if you have so much energy, you can stay up and help unload!”
I didn’t need a second warning. “Okay, I’ll go to bed.” I conceded. “Come on, you two, let’s go find someplace to sleep.”
“I can put my own self to bed.” Roger muttered.
Entering a large hall leading to the staircase, the three of us “oohed and aahhed” at the beautiful woodwork of stairs and banister.
“This is rich people’s house’” my awestricken little sister cooed.
“Yeah.” Echoed Roger as we climbed the two flights to the next floor. We wanted so badly to explore our new home, but exhaustion overtook us. My father and old brother had leaned the mattresses against the wall, and had already left to go get another load. Roger claimed the room the mattresses were in and pushed the first one to the floor, grabbed a blanket from the box nearby. Wendy and I struggled with another mattress yanking, pulling, pushing and sliding it down the large hall to another room. Little did we know how cold that room would be. We slept in our winter coats with a blanket pulled tightly around us,
I laid awake staring at the bare windows as the frost turned to ice. It wasn't until the next day when my father pointed out that the radiator was turned off. If only we had known!
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