Sliding across the Nano Finish Line, Slow Lane Style

Well, I did it. Last night I dragged myself across the finish line during the very last half hour of NaNoWriMo 2012. My official word count came in at just over 52,000 words. I'm not quite sure how that happened, because by my own count I should have come in at around 50,500 or so. I might have accidentally copied-and-pasted part of my last chapter twice when validating, but I'm not sure. All I know is I did it. I stayed in the game and I crossed the finish line, despite life constantly trying to get in the way.

I wish I could say I produced a complete draft of a novel, but I didn't. I started out with one idea, then switched to another. In reality I was starting over completely, halfway through, but keeping my original text for purposes of word count. So in the end although I did write the requisite fifty thousand words during November, they weren't all part of the same story. But you know what? I'm okay with that. My goal this year wasn't so much to write a novel as it was was to prove to myself that I can still do this with three little kids in my life.

Yet I almost didn't make it. After the very difficult events of Thanksgiving weekend I very nearly gave up. I worried I had lost too much time. I felt defeated. But then after lying awake thinking about it for two nights in a row, I decided I wasn't going to go down without a fight. It wasn't easy and it meant getting up extra early and going to bed extra late, but I buckled down and got back in the game. Once I had made that decision the story flowed, the words appearing from reserves I didn't even know I had.

In the end I made it across the finish line with a Slow Lane twist. At about 10:30 p.m. a neighbor started banging on our front door, as if she were trying to batter it down. She has some issues and, I suspect, was off her meds. Whatever the reason she was insisting - loudly and aggressively - that we were doing things to her car and trying to choke her with gasoline fumes. To thwart us in doing these things she had built a giant barricade around her car in the driveway with trash cans, one of which had tipped over somehow. She took this to mean that we were at it again and came pounding on our door to have it out with us over these supposed high jinx of ours. So in the middle of Nano I had to call our landlord and ask for help to defuse this very awkward, somewhat scary situation. I swear, I think I wrote the last three chapters on pure adrenaline after that.

So what comes now, post-Nano? Well, I've made some lovely new Wrimo friends who I hope to continue to keep in contact with. I would like to keep going with my revised story idea, see if I can't produce a full first draft before year-end. And between now and next NaNoWriMo 2013 I know I need to do something to improve my craft, not to mention overhaul my spotty grasp of grammar and punctuation. My life changed so much this year I don't even dare imagine where I'll be or what I'll be doing at this time next year. All I know for sure is when November rolls around, I'll be writing.

Halfway to the NaNoWriMo Finish Line

Yesterday I hit the half-way mark in my NaNoWriMo novel, meaning I've officially crested the summit of the hill. Starting today whatever I write will begin my decent down the other side towards the finish line.

I have to say, the view from up here is really something. For example, look over there. Do you see that? What is it? Oh . . . wait . . . that's just the laundry I haven't put away for the last two weeks. Never mind, don't look at that. Look over here instead and you'll see . . . dust bunnies? Oh God. Forget that, too, then. Come to think of it, wherever I look I see something I didn't get to or that I let slide to be able to find time to write.

Big mess in my house or not, I'm still pleased with what I see. That is because NaNoWriMo isn't about climbing a hill or admiring the view. It is about writing. It is about making time to put words down on a page every single day, come what may. And this year, it is also about me, proving to myself that I'm still here, that who I am as an individual hasn't disappeared completely into the morass of Motherhood. If that means putting up with a few more dust bunnies than usual, that is perfectly fine by me.

One of the parties responsible for the dust bunny explosion, helping me write.

Ready. Set. Go!

Nanowrimo doesn't officially start until Thursday. However, my own personal Nano journey started this weekend. I've been planning all month and have a good idea of where I want my story to go, so it was easy to jump in and start writing. I'm about six chapters in, just over 7,000 words.

I know, I know, the rules say we have to wait for November 1st to get started and I won't be able to validate my word counts until then anyway. So why would I decide to start early, breaking all the rules in the process? The answer is hurricane Sandy. She is heading straight for us here in central New Jersey. Wide spread power outages are predicted and no power means no laptop. We have been told to prepare for the worst and that is exactly what I am doing. True, the emergency management people probably didn't mean get a jump on Nano, but I've got my priorities.

All I can say in my defense is if I haven't let three wild and wooly little kids, work drama or mommy fatigue derail me from doing Nano this year, there is no way I'm going to let a mere hurricane stop me now. That said, since I started early to be fair, I'll end early too. Thanksgiving weekend will mark my personal Nanowrimo 2012 finish line.

To my fellow east coast wrimos I say good luck, stay safe, and no matter what happens - keep on writing.

Getting Ready for Nano: My Writing Nook



Believe it or not there really is a desk under there somewhere.

Once upon a time I actually used my desk for writing and other desk-appropriate purposes. Then the kids came along, and with them a tidal wave of papers that I clearly am not doing a very good job keeping up with. My desk went from being my productivity spot to a catchall for everything I needed to get done "someday, when I have time."

There is no "someday" in Nanowrimo. It is all about "now" and making writing a top priority. I know if I'm going to really do this, then I need to make a commitment not just to the time it takes to write, but also to a dedicated space to write in. It took a lot of coffee and a significant chunk of my Sunday afternoon, but I banished the clutter monster from my desk.

Battling all that paper into submission wasn't fun but the end result is well worth it.

I Might Be Insane, But . . .

Last November I participated in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWiMo) for first time ever. Every night for a whole month I rushed home from work and sat hunched over my computer keyboard for hours, tapping away, striving to write a complete novel in just thirty days. I went into it not knowing if I could do it, but wanting desperately to prove to myself that I could. I had a lot of reasons for not just wanting, but needing, to do NaNoWriMo last year and I am very pleased to say that I achieved my objective. I scraped by with just over 50,000 words on the very last night. It was an amazing feeling.

Fast forward a year and just about everything in my life has changed more than I ever imagined it could. Today, only two weeks away from the start of NaNoWriMo 2012, I am sitting here at my kitchen table, enjoying my coffee and what passes for peace and quiet around here these days. I can hear the toddler jumping up and down in his crib, shrieking and giggling, and two little girls arguing over a toy. The table in front of me is covered with unopened mail, a snarled up tangle of pipe cleaners and other crafty stuff mixed in with the dregs of a goodie bag from yesterday's birthday party. In other words, I am surrounded by chaos, noise and mess. I would have to be certifiably insane to think I could do NaNoWriMo this year.

I'm doing it anyway.

I learned a lot from NaNoWriMo 2011. Aside from learning that I do indeed have it in me to write a novel, I also learned that planning and writing a novel by the seat of my pants was harrowing in the extreme. The endlessly worrying over what should come next in the plot took some of the fun out of the writing itself, so this year I'm going to plan my plot in advance and write from an outline. I will need to because I won't have the luxury of time that I had last year. This year when time to write appears I will need to get right down to business, not waste precious minutes mulling over plot twists.

Once I made the decision to go ahead I started to get really excited. While I do enjoy having the kids here, I have nevertheless been grappling with the feeling that who I am and my own needs and interests are just dissolving in the face of the constant care and attention that these kids need. Sometimes it really does feel like slowly drowning in quicksand. I know that isn't the image of motherhood portrayed by Hallmark, but I'm sure that any mom reading this will know exactly what I'm talking about. NaNoWriMo is a lifeline this year, a way to hold onto something about myself that is too important to just let sink into the ooze of mommyhood.

Another reason to look forward to NaNoWriMo this year is because it will be a family affair. My nephew, Zach, Princess Jasmine and my mom will all be doing it, too. My mom has been doing Nano for years and this past summer she and Zach collaborated on a book of short stories that they published on Amazon. Princess Jasmine is super-excited and we have been working together on planning our novels. She is planning to write about a little girl who woke up one day to find her whole family and all her friends were gone. Seems like NaNoWriMo might be a lifeline for her, too, a way to get some of her bottled up feelings out on paper and conquer them with a happy ending of her own choosing.

Crazy or not, NaNoWriMo 2012, here I come!

Going NaNoLoCo as the Finish Line Looms

What 40,000 words looks like

I can't help but think that whoever designated November as National Novel Writing Month must have had a sadistic streak. Otherwise, why, oh why, would they have scheduled the darn thing with Thanksgiving smack in the middle of the home stretch?

As you can see from the photo, I'm a good forty-thousand words in by now. I'm proud of myself for getting this far, but 40,000 words won't win the race. I know if I want to cross the finish line I've got to dig deep and pull another 10,000 words out of the hat.

The shops may be filled with crowds of eager shoppers today, but I, for one, will not be among them. I'll be holed up here in my house, writing. Fortified by lots of strong coffee, fueled by Thanksgiving left-overs, I hope to finally type the words "The End" sometime between now and Sunday night.

If you want to watch my final dash (or perhaps crawl) towards the finish line the widget below is the way to do it.

Procrastination Beat Down

When I signed up for NaNoWriMo and dedicated myself to writing a 50,000 word novel in just 30 days I knew it would be a challenge, but I didn't count on me derailing myself almost right out of the gate.

I did great for the first week. Every night once the dinner dishes had been washed and the kitchen tidied up, I sat myself down in front of the computer and made myself write for one hour. Each day that week I produced, on average, 1,600 words. I hadn't done too much plotting, but I had a basic story idea in mind to work from, and for the first few days the words flowed easily. I thought okay, I've got this, this won't be so hard after all.

Then week two dawned. Because I'd done such a great job during week one, I decided to reward myself with a little break. So I missed one day, and then somehow one day became two, and two quickly became three. Before I knew it, my "little break" took up the entire week and I found myself more than twenty thousand words behind. That's a lot, folks.

Talk about feeling like a big loser! I was so far behind I started to question whether or not I really even had it in me to do this. If I was slacking this early on, was I really meant to be a novelist? After a weekend of soul searching, I decided I wasn't going to go down without a fight. I might still be a big loser and could very well go down in flames at the end of it all, but at least I'd know I didn't quit.

As week three began I forced myself to get back into my evening writing routine, pushing myself to up my nightly word count. I even started trying to squeeze in 500 words or so before work. But I was so far behind, all I was doing was treading water. By Tuesday night I knew, if I had any hope of finishing on time, drastic action would be needed.

The very next day I took a vacation day from work. I got up early, fortified myself with some strong coffee and parked myself in front of the computer. I wrote from about 8:30 in the morning until 6:00 pm at night. I took short breaks here and there, and of course "somebody" had to make dinner, and that somebody was me, but for the most part my entire day was spent writing.

I am happy to report that I am caught up and back on schedule now. It feels great to know I conquered the twenty thousand word monster I created, not to mention my own inner fears of inadequacy. While I'm not proud of myself for procrastinating (you'd think I would have learned something after the paper shredding incident), spending a whole day totally immersed in the business of writing was an amazing experience which probably wouldn't have happened otherwise.

My NaNoWriMo Stats as of this morning

 
Below is another excerpt from my novel. Please feel free to comment.

Chapter 8

In Which Kate Gets Her Groove On

That night after Kate put Aiden to bed, she forced herself to put her daily verbal doodles aside and pick up where she had left off with Lydia instead.

“Come on, old girl. I know we can do this” she wheedled as she poised her fingers over the keyboard. She wasn't sure if she was talking to Lydia, herself, or possibly both. She hammered out a few paragraphs, but when she re-read them they sounded trite and forced. Her attempts to re-work them were no better and she began to become frustrated.

Pressing her fingers to her temples, she closed her eyes and tried to think back to when she wrote the first Lydia Thorne novel, and how she had felt doing it. She had been totally relaxed, that she knew. She had written the first book propped up on down pillows, with a glass of good wine on the night stand and a fire in the fireplace. It hadn't been hard to write a romance, relaxing in a romantic setting like that. All she had really done was take her own fantasies and put them down on paper, letting her imagination fill in the rest. It had been great fun, she recalled. She certainly hadn't been like this, all tense and pressured and hunched anxiously over the keyboard. There was no way she could call what she was doing now fun, not by any stretch of the imagination.

After another couple of attempts, with no better results, she got up and padded into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine. As usual, Jill was in the living room, sitting up late grading papers in the recliner while Letterman blared in the background. Welcoming the distraction, Kate wandered into the living room, sipping her wine. After so many months of living together she knew better than to offer a glass to Jill, whose religious beliefs prohibited drinking. When Jill first told her she didn't drink, and why, Kate had felt intimidated about drinking in front of her at first. But over time, she came to realize that Jill was not the judgmental type. She probably wouldn't appreciate living with a roommate who drank excessively, of course, but Kate's occasional glass of Merlot wasn't an issue.

“Hey” Jill said casually, glancing up from the spelling test before her. “Looks like both roomies are burning the midnight oil tonight. How's the writing going?”

“Eh.” Kate shrugged. “It doesn't seem to be going at all, really. At least not with Lydia, anyway. I can churn out thousands of words about just about anything else, but whenever I sit down to work on the novel for my book contract I can't seem to focus.”

Jill made a sympathetic noise. “Would you like to trade? You can grade spelling tests; I'll whip up a few chapters for you.”

Kate tried to suppress a smile. It was hard to envision virginal little Jill writing a steamy romance. “We'd better not.” She said, deadpan. “I don't think my spelling is up to it.”

Jill put her red pencil down and leaned forward over her lap full of papers, stretching her arms and back. “Kate, I was going to talk to you about this anyway, but since you're here maybe this is the right moment.” Jill leaned back against the recliner again and turned to look at Kate. Kate's stomach did a flip-flop of premonition, fearing by the look in Jill's eye that this might not be good news.

“Donny proposed and we set a date. We're getting married!” Jill beamed, her cornflower blue eyes glowing with happiness for just an instant before she regained her composure. “The thing is I'll be giving up the apartment when the lease runs out in January. We're going to live at his place after the wedding, so rather than keep paying here, month-to-month, I'm going to live at home with my parents and save the rent money to put towards the wedding."

Kate's first thought was to be happy for her friend. She jumped up and gave her a bear hug of congratulations, the news about the apartment barely registering until she had sat down again. Not wanting to derail Jill's happiness – her eyes were glowing again – Kate kept a firm smile fixed on her face as Jill recounted the details of the proposal. As she listened she was mentally counting the weeks she would have left before she needed to move. Seven weeks, that was all. She needed to finish this novel more now than ever before, or finding herself out on the street with Aiden would be a real possibility.

Kate sat up late that night, and each night thereafter, hammering out paragraph after paragraph of trite material. It was total schlock and she knew it, but she told herself better to at least get the whole thing down on paper, then rewrite later if she had to. Lydia returned to haunt her dreams anew, mocking her. Her husky voice making snarky comments often intruded into Kate's train of thought when she was trying to write.

Kate had all but forgotten her promise to go out to the club with Araceli and Leo until Araceli reminded her of it.

“We're going pick you up at 9:00 o'clock on Sunday, so be ready, amiga! And don't forget to put on something sexy.” Araceli winked naughtily and did a little shimmy like the one Kate had done when she committed to getting her grove on again. Kate couldn't help but notice the shimmy looked a heck of a lot better on skinny Araceli.

The last thing Kate felt like doing these days was dancing. Lydia was torturing her and she was staying up way too late every night, trying to wrestle her novel into submission. When she did try to sleep, her mind kept racing through the calendar, stressing her out over how little time she had before she would need to actively start looking for somewhere else to live. But on the other hand, Aiden would be with Jeffrey for the weekend and taking a break from it all for a night might do her some good. Dancing would certainly help her burn off some of this stress, and the prospect of a few adult beverages weren't sounding too bad, either.

Kate was ready at 9:00 p.m. on the dot and waiting anxiously, peering out the window every few minutes watching for headlights pulling in. She felt like a fourteen year old, going to the big school dance for the first time. Getting dressed had been difficult. Finding something dressy that she still fit into that didn't make her look like a sparkly sausage had been so demoralizing she had almost called Araceli to cancel three times. Finally, she had settled on black slacks, strappy black heels, and a somewhat slinky (or so she tried to convince herself) yellow silk tunic with a wide black patent leather belt cinching it at the waste. Over it, she wore a simple black blazer with a little delicate jet beading around the neckline and cuffs.

She new she probably looked like she was going to a business meeting more than to a club, but it was the best she could do. She cursed herself for having gained so much weight and tried to make up for the boring clothes by carefully applying her makeup and blowing out her hair. She had managed a decent smoky eye and had tamed her hair into a decent approximation of a sleek, shiny pageboy. She had finished off her look by pulling her hair back on one side with a sparkly silver butterfly barrette, and now she was just waiting, anxiously.

At 9:40 she finally heard a honk and looked out to see Leo's battered red work van lurking beneath the street light. Her spirits sank a bit at the prospect of riding in the back of the van, but she grabbed her black satin evening bag and ran out into the dark with a feeling of excited anticipation bubbling in her stomach. Leo, smiling his usual amiable smile, opened the back of the van so she could climb in and gave her a hand up. She picked her way carefully through rolls of carpeting and padding and stepped over spackle buckets full of tools to find a spot to perch on near the front of the van. She picked a likely looking place on the end of a roll of Berber and balanced on it, bracing herself against the back of the driver's seat with one hand as Leo pulled away from the curb. Ready or not, she was on her way to the club.

And We're Off!

Yesterday was the start of NaNoWriMo, National Novel Writing Month. The goal is to write a first draft of a 50,000 word novel in only 30 days and this is my first time doing it.

I spent October fussing around, trying to get ready. I spent lots of time reading up about things like the three act structure and outlining techniques. I even wrote several short stories, just to limber up my story telling muscles.

Before I knew it, the calendar said November 1st. Every time I wrote the date at work yesterday, I would get a little thrill, thinking today is the day. As the day wore on, the thrill turned to nerves. At home later I could sense my computer looming in the corner, its blank screen leering at me in a silent challenge.

Finally, at 6:30 I plunked myself down in front of the computer, turned it on, and told myself "You aren't moving out of this seat until you churn out at least 1,600 words." The weird thing is, once I started typing I tossed all my preparation and my carefully outlined story idea right out the window and wrote about something else altogether.

My favorite writer is Diana Wynne Jones. If you don't know her, she was J.K. Rowling before there was a J.K. Rowling (http://www.dianawynnejones.com/noflash.htm). As I opened up my word processing program last night I remembered something she once said in an interview, that she never planned her books, the stories told themselves and her job was just to write them down. At the last minute, I decided that was what I would do, too. I would let go of all the fussiness and simply let my imagination lead the way.

If I actually do manage to end the month with 50,000 words on paper, there will be plenty of polishing and editing needed to give me my busywork fix. But for this month, it is all and only about getting the story down on paper. I'm committed only to going wherever it takes me and writing simply for the joy of uncovering a story, the way an archeologist uncovers ruins, one small piece at a time.

 

Below is an excerpt from the chapter I drafted last night. Your feedback in the comments is both welcome and encouraged.

 

KATE GETS ON WITH IT

 

Chapter One

In Which Kate Has Writers Block

Kate nibbled a finger nail as she stared at the pristine whiteness of a blank Word document, flickering on her computer screen. She was supposed to be thinking of a plot, coming up with exciting romantic conflicts for her heroine, Lydia Thorne. Instead, her mind kept wandering to the laundry. The laundromat was only open until 8:00 and it was 7:20 or so now. If she didn't get there soon, they would bag up her laundry, dry or not, and put it in the Good Will box out in the parking lot. She knew this because the sign on the wall by the door said so. From what other patrons told her, they meant it, too.

Kate shook herself and forced the laundry out of her mind, trying to get back to Lydia. “Come on Lydia” she mumbled aloud. “Do something already, you stupid cow!” She knew it was silly, but she could almost sense the character lurking, just out of sight in the back of her mind, snickering at making Kate look bad. It would be just like Lydia to do that, and Kate ought to know – she had created her, after all.

If anyone had told her, a year and a half ago, that she, Kate Worthington, would have written a successful romance novel she would have laughed at them. Yet, that was exactly what she had done. She wrote it on her lap top, sitting up in bed tapping away on her lap top on the nights when Jeffrey was away on business trips, usually a glass of wine on the night stand beside her. She knew when she married Jeffrey that he traveled a lot for his job, he had been very up front about that. She missed him, of course, but his job allowed them to enjoy a lifestyle that more than made up for it. They had a lovely big house, were able to send their son to a good school, and took fabulous vacations twice a year. Wasn't that worth a few lonely nights? Ok, more than a few . . . four out of seven days a week she was on her own, not that she was counting. The truth was, she was lonely. Very lonely. Writing her romance novel had been a way to get through it by escaping to a romantic little world she had created for herself.

Looking back, writing the damn book had been almost too easy, really. All it took was a little wine, a nice fire in the gas fireplace in her luxurious master bedroom, with the big cushy king sized bed, a little longing for her hubby and some imagination, and the words just spilled out all by themselves. Her friend Missy, whose husband was in publishing, read it and had gushed about it so much to her husband that he sent a copy of it to an agent he knew. It had surprised Kate as much as anyone else when she suddenly ended up with a book deal.

Seeing her book in print for the first time had been a major thrill. She and Jeffrey had thrown a little book launch party, invited their friends from the neighborhood. She had basked in the glow of everyone's attention, not realizing yet how much work she would have to do to promote the book. Soon thereafter, her agent had her out doing book signings, attending conventions and book store openings. It had been overwhelming at first, but soon she had come to enjoy it. She hadn't been so busy, or so mentally engaged, since college. She soon found herself obsessively seeking out opportunities to go promote her book. The time she spent answering fan mail, blogging and doing appearances hardly seemed like work at all, she had enjoyed it so much.

But somebody else hadn't enjoyed it much, and that somebody was Jeffrey. Oh sure, he was Ok with it at first, when it was just a hobby. He even liked introducing her to people as his wife, the author in the beginning. But pretty soon her busy schedule began to conflict with his, and she started to expect him to help out more with their son and in running the household. Little cracks began to appear in their marriage, and grew into bigger cracks as continuous fights erupted over silly things. The marriage had collapsed more suddenly than she had ever thought possible. It was as if it had just imploded, unable to handle the strain of two busy professionals in one family. Damn the fragile male ego, she thought to herself. If only Jeffrey had been able to man up and deal with her having a career, too, they could have made things work.