So long NaNo 2015

As NaNoWriMo comes to a close (crawling to it's dramatic death or skipping to the end in triumph), I'm struck by what changed in my writing & what hasn't changed in my writing beliefs.

1. Word Sprints: What a complete game changer. Total revelation. I saw mention of them on the NaNo site before, heard others mention them. And I poo-poo'd the very idea. Timed writing? Huh-ell no. I caved, under extreme protest, and tried it one night. Holy shitballs! Several hundred words done in 10 minutes. I'm talking exceeding my daily word count in a little more than half an hour on good days, just under an hour on slow ones. Without word sprints? A few hundred words over the course of who knows how long. I'm a believer & I tell everyone like I was healed at a revival. Because it's that freaking amazing. Productivity on steroids, y'all.

2. Summarizing: *shudders* I have always hated trying to sum up (or create a back cover blurb) what I'm working on. If I could explain it in a paragraph, I wouldn't be writing a 350 page novel. I mean, come on! But you have to. For queries, to entice agents, publishers, prospective readers. You've got to get this figured out. And I hadn't. And then during a writerly conversation (aka, a bitching session) somebody pointed out I didn't have one on the NaNo website for my novel. I made my case, whining like a preteen asked to pick up an empty cup they just used (I have company, can you tell?). I complained that the summaries made me feel like I was writing a corny movie intro, complete with the movie preview guy's voice in my head. A melodramatic representation of the book. My friend asked what was wrong with that, but my mind was off and running. Maybe I had to go ahead and be uncomfortable and feel like I was making a fool of myself to get a horrible decent blurb I'd be happier with. So I turned up the drama, heard the movie preview guy in my head and wrote the first halfway decent summary I'd ever done. So that's my new trick personal writing parlor trick.

3. Moving on when I'm stuck: I have always marveled at people who don't write their novels in a linear way. They bounce from scene to scene and then go back and knit things together later. It's like freaking magic. I have bullishly stuck to the linear way of starting at the beginning (hating it) and slogging through to the bitter end. Then I go back and rework what I didn't like (hopefully finding inspiration to fix it) and call it a day. This year I tried something else. Yes, I stuck to linear to an extent, but when I wasn't making any headway, I made a few notes about what I wanted from the scene and moved on to what came next. If a scene was running long, I'd let it go on and see what came out of it. Yeah I'll end up cutting it later, but I got some really cool character development that way and discovered some new directions I would have missed otherwise.

4. Embrace the community and they really will embrace you back: Brace yourself - I'm shy. Even on social media, I don't understand this whole friending people you don't know or barely know. Before NaNo I had a total of maybe 3 tweets, and maybe 5 more things I retweeted. Come NaNo, I used a topically relevant NaNoWriMo hashtag (Feel free to groan, I am. Anybody seen my cane or slippers?) and had a sudden influx of followers who weren't trying to sell me something. More than that? Every writing related tweet I made (all, like, 4 of them) people liked. Hearted. Favorited. Licked. Whatever. It was weird, it was trippy, but it was kind of neat most of all.

5. Ambient Sounds: One of the cool things that's come of hanging out with other writers and sharing stuff has come by way of background music/sounds. I don't think I know a single author who writes to silence, at least none that admit it. It's one of the first things that comes up in that getting-to-know-you stage: "What do you listen to when you write?" There's even a box for that for each user on the NaNoWriMo site. Some people can't listen to songs with words or the words impact their scenes. Some only listen to movie scores. Some only listen to Buddy Holly on a full moon. (It's possible.) The point is, this is an area of sincere interest for a lot of us writer types. The perfect mix to keep us inspired, on task and motivated without adding one more freaking distraction. This year I have had great success on this seemingly endless writing journey listening to ambient backgrounds on a seamless loop. There are websites with near endless variety of sounds, from fireplaces crackling to monster's screams to the gentle lull of waves against pebbles. Wonderful, fantastic people arrange these (you can too, but did I mention the deadline I have this month?) to form environmental backgrounds: a ship sailing on the high seas, a damp dungeon, a spring rain in the meadow, a Turkish or Parisian cafe, an Irish Pub, or the common room of your choice inspired by a certain magical boarding school. It totally rocks. Are your characters on a quest and find themselves in a tavern on a rainy night? There's an atmosphere (or 12) for that.

6. Quit looking for the perfect time/perfect book on writing and just write: This is one I've been a firm believer on for a long time. What makes anyone who writes a book on how to write an expert? I know people who write writing advice columns who have never had a book published. And aspiring authors beg for more. I'm not saying there's not good advice out there, but if your bookshelves only have books about writing and you've never finished a manuscript yet, sit down and just write. That's the advice I see from published authors I read. Write. Daily if possible. Agonize and edit after it's written. Just write. I'll admit to a few "How to" write books in my collection, but:

• I've never read one cover to cover
• They are genre specific because I wanted tips on how to handle certain situations
• I inherited at least 1 or 2 of the 3 or 4 books I have.

I don't think anything negative about those of you who pour over the how to books, please understand. I just think you're taking what worked (in theory) for a particular author and expecting it to be a magic wand. Time + experience = luck. You can fix crappy writing, weak characters or scenes that don't work. You can't do anything about something you haven't written.

B. 50,000 words in 30 days doesn't equal the novel of your dreams (though it does help): Okay, so as much as I have a love to hate relationship with NaNoWriMo, I need to be honest. The main goal as you hang on for dear life during November is to hit 50,000 words. Like high school and college essays and term papers, you will find yourself doing whatever you have to to pad that word count. Contractions no longer exist. You know exactly what I'm talking about. As much as you're crafting your story, at this point you're just trying to hit that 50,000 words so you can breathe again. And in a way, that's good. Because in that frantic rush, it's easier to turn off your inner editor that s-l-o-w-s you down otherwise. But I know as I write I'm going to have to go back and fix so much later. And personally, I find that frustrating. But doing NaNo gives me a big chunk of the writing process for my idea done. It gives me something to mold later instead of staring at 300 words on a screen and wondering if this should go anywhere.

Zed. Deadlines help some of us get more shit done and increase our other obligations exponentially at the same time - Murphy's law of writers: So as I prepared myself for the home stretch (What a shock, I'm behind with only a few days to go.) my household was on board with helping me make it. My hubby went with me to the store to stock up on caffeine, quick lunches and snacks for myself to grab and get back to work with. He pushed me to get out of the house and write the last weekend so I would have fewer distractions. My parents asked how much time I had left & how many words I had to go, making dinner with the turkey day leftovers one night and heating up frozen pizza another. My visiting nibling curled up in the arm chair in my office and played video games and set up my Christmas tree for me. Great people, right? And they are. They are also all exponentially needy the last two days. WTF?! My husband, with his support? Messaged me all day long. Cute pics, Christmas shopping ideas, etc. He'd come give me a hug or check on me. At one point I had 3 people in my office and my mother was having a mini episode. My husband, bless him, even asked me at one point today why I wasn't further along with my word count. I think you get the idea that my word count was not what I was hoping for at the end of the day. Which is okay, if a little stressful. Because secretly, I love running up along deadlines. It's my version of being an adrenaline junkie. Once the people in my house started going to bed one by one, my productivity went up. I was interrupted, but once an hour or two instead of every 8 minutes.

Whew! In the end though, I made it. And I have a few new tools in my writing arsenal. It doesn't have to be smooth sailing to be worthwhile. Also, word sprints!!!

So if you'll excuse me, I need to pull out my 2015 NaNoWriMo winner shirt and strut around my house. Until I spill something on it. I give it 4 hours, tops.

Post turkey musing

Kindness, sprinkle it on everything. It costs nothing to be kind.  And yet, here I am.

Now I firmly believe in spreading kindness, letting your own light shine, etc, blah blah, so on and so forth. I was raised by someone who doesn't like attention but does like to help people. My dad is the kind of guy who would give the shirt off his back to help someone but mouth off as a distraction so you wouldn't notice. So as I transition into being a bit more vocal about the good things in life I'm experiencing some mild to moderate discomfort at drawing attention to myself.

Yesterday I took the time to write not only a blog post on here but also a seasonal post on social media about being thankful. It's the first time I've mentioned the changes I've been making in my life to extended family & friends - so if you read these blog posts (bless you) and you're doing so because you know me, you are in a select group of a few people in my life I trust to read these meanderings. The rest of you, you're creeping me out (but bless you, too - can I get you something to drink?).

I was careful in my gratitudes because part of growth tends to be outgrowing some people and that can be tricky. Or for my purposes, out growing being used. Out growing being forced to continually prove my friendship because putting my life on hold repeatedly to help each and every time this person hit bottom and everything in between isn't enough to show I care. It's embarrassing to admit how far I let myself be used, because make no mistake, I was a party to it. I participated in allowing myself be treated this way because a shitty, thoughtless friend who used to be kind of nice was better than no one at all. Until it wasn't. 

There was no break up scene, no litany of the ways I felt hurt. I dealt with my own stuff and just took a solid step backwards. And then in time, another. And then, a few more. And each time my guilt got the better of me, each time I wanted to give one more benefit of the doubt to this person, he or she would do something so ridiculous it reminded me to stay the hell away. Social media would light up periodically with blatant cries for attention he or she was not getting. From me. A half dozen sycophants jumped up to swear their fealty, crawling over each other to prove their commitment to this person was stronger than the others. Do they know he or she talks about how worthless they all are when they aren't around? 

No thanks.

As I mentioned before, I wanted to be careful in what I said in my list of things I'm thankful for. I'm still not exactly over the bitchy part of a once close friendship ending. I'll admit it. Because as some of you may not know, friendships can break up with as much style and and as many fireworks as a messy divorce.  I didn't want to let fly a snippy, passive aggressive comment and set off  e.p.i.c.d.r.a.m.a.2.0.1.5.  My inner editor took great care here and in the end I only needed to take out one or two lines to make sure I stuck with gratitude and not negativity. It was all about gratitude, all about taking a personal journey and being positive.

And my holiday ode to positivity, new beginnings, weathering turbulence of the past year and the journey to find my bliss? I got some very lovely comments from people. Also? A passive aggressive diatribe about faithless friends and this person having his or her own personal journey. If you read my previous post about people projecting their baggage, this is a fun twist on projection. A person who is angry and probably not winning an argument (usually one they start) takes your words, twists them around and lobs them back at you. In my experience, laughing to their face or pointing out what they're doing doesn't help. It IS the point in a spirited exchange to consider stepping back because irrationality is fueling their fire. Even if the 'exchange' is one sided and on social media. 

It's not entirely true that it costs nothing to be kind. There are cases of extreme tongue biting in the quest for peace, potentially to the point of needing medical attention. BUT, I will feel better working on spreading kindness and saving biting retorts for the characters in my novels. I will continue to work at being the change I'd like to see in the world. Being nice is different than being a doormat, and not being a doormat is different than being a jerk. So for everyone of you doing your best and trying to be kind, keep up the good work. 

My last thought: Thanksgiving coincided with a full moon. If you survived another holiday with crazy family, drunk friends or whatever your particular situation was, you get an extra gold star this year. Do something nice for yourself. Soak in the tub with a good book. Sip a mug of peppermint hot chocolate or a gingerbread latte. Chat with a friend who makes you feel heard. Bake a batch of cookies. Treat yourself to a pedicure. Snuggle a puppy and rub his or her little warm belly. Go see a movie. Color. Go try something on your bucket list. Hell, if you have the resources, take a mini-vacation. Failing all else, go have that extra slice of pie you were eyeing earlier. You can have a salad or a lettuce wrap for lunch tomorrow. 

I'm struggling this week. Productivity is plummeting while demands are jockeying for attention. And that's okay. Really. Ebb and flow, give and take. And I freely admit to being a bit frazzled, a lot spacey and overwhelmingly exhausted. So basically your garden variety pre-holiday stress, hold the gravy. This is the last week of NaNoWriMo, and it's not even a blip on my radar. 

So as I drift along the word count abyss, I've been feeling the need to come up with a new blog post. To keep me writing. To give me something different to write about. To keep up with my blog. To keep me from chugging a bottle of tequila while I prep for Thanksgiving. I've had several ideas come to mind with fantastically witty observations or funny anecdotes. Of course, none of these stuck around long enough for me to write them down. At a loss and losing my grip on conscious thought, I latched onto something that came up (again) in conversation tonight.

I am, based on extensive experience, apparently a difficult person to read. 

And, people who try to read anything into my actions are generally (ahem) wrong. I find this fascinating, because I like to think of myself as fairly straight forward and pretty good at reading other people. But people apply their own 'baggage' to their communications and interactions. So if I say, "Okay, let's do that." I don't mean "I'd rather set my face on fire." I am capable of politely bowing out of something I'd rather not do instead of following along like a lemming. 

Point of fact, if I do turn something down it doesn't mean I never want to see that person again. (Because then I'd make mention of that pesky face on fire appointment on my schedule.) It does mean I'm either legitimately busy, I have so little interest in the activity that it's actually sucking the life from me just to think about it, or that I'm so tired or sick that I can barely pick my foot up off the floor. It's not a reflection on how I feel about the asker as a person - unless you're a douchebag wanker, but for the sake of argument let's assume that's not the case. 

Also, one 10 second introduction does not make you an expert in what makes me tick. Someone I am related to by marriage tried to cozy up to me very quickly and prove to me that we could be buddies, which depending on the length a person goes to can be a red flag. Every funny little 'in' joke this person tried to create involved what an obnoxiously opinionated, aggressively angry, catty bitch I was - said the person who made snide comments about the kind of clothes I wore, make-up, etc. See? Baggage. Also, pre-existing crazy, so the red flag was totally warranted. It's funny what people tell you about yourself who don't give you a word edgewise into a single conversation you have with them. 

And just so we're all on the same page (Warning, book may vary.), I have my own baggage I bring to the conversational landscape. I struggle to feel understood, to feel heard. I repeat myself. A lot. If you look away repeatedly, I'm going to assume you're not interested. If you want me to keep talking, I don't recommend a blank stare. "Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh, oh, uh huh" does not a conversation make. So if your baggage tells you that me repeating something means something, and my baggage makes me repeat unimportant details I think I might have not been clear about or want to make sure you know that I'm not worried about, we're not going to get very far.

What do you really know about anyone and do the opinions you hold about them reflect more about you than the other person? I'm sure it's variable based on your own insecurities, personal experience and more, as in how much of someone else can you take in once you've filtered them through your own bias. 

I'm pretty sure this didn't amount to what I thought it might when I started thinking about it earlier. But, I wrote. I took a break from the holiday chaos. And for me personally, I took the chance to explore for just a few minutes my need to be understood. And how amazing it is to me that I am so often misunderstood anyway. 

Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving! 

You Too Can Escape Oblivion, Step 1. Avoid Oblivion

Halfway through this month should have marked the halfway point of NaNoWriMo, for anyone doing their best to tread water and cling to the daily average word count that is. The rest of you breaking the curve who are within spitting distance of (or already over) 50,000 words, bah. Just... just... I can't even with you right now, all right? For me, halfway came a few days late.

I started NaNo strong (IMHO), with a detailed outline but room for creative twists and turns, enthusiasm for my novel, writing support network, and a deep rooted desire to get the 'Winner' t-shirt that I'll never wear outside of my house. I marveled at how well I stuck to the daily word count this year with a little more ease and, dare I say, grace than last year. And then week 1 ended.

I was grumpy, tired, wanting to do anything other than sit at my desk or a cafe table swilling coffee like my life depended on it (it really did) and trying in vain to make the words come. Real life commitments changed. And by changed I mean straight up tripled. It's for a good cause, the health and well being of a few young people in my life, but it does impact my time resources.

So I bailed out for a few days. And by bailed out, I mean passed out asleep by 8 at night. Full disclosure this probably happened once or twice as well:

And this:

And most likely this:

There, I feel better now.

Before this, I had padded about an extra day's worth of words in with dreams and hopes of having several days of thousands upon thousands of words written to effortlessly glide to the finish. *snort* When I finally pulled myself together and mainlined coffee like a proper caffeine junkie, I was thousands and thousands of words behind. My NaNo stats page let me know my projected finish date was sometime late December.

For good measure.

Here's the thing though. I rallied. Yes, I bitched, but I rallied. (It's part of my charm.) I accepted the break was a necessity and didn't dwell much. I accepted the righteous power of word sprints, something previously unknown and snickered at by me, into my writing life. (I'm a word sprinting convert. It truly is obscene how much more productive they make me.) I have horribly abused coffee and forsaken sleep. I write on my phone while I'm in waiting rooms. My hands ache and swell every night, but I slap on a few topical pain relieving patches and keep on going. And I finally let go of trying to trudge through scenes were I feel stuck, put a pin and a few notes in them, and move on to what comes next. In 24 hours I packed in about 4,000 words. I'm still technically behind, but my NaNo stats page tells me that I need less than 2,000 words a day to finish on time. Totally doable with minimum bitching and moaning practices in place.

What feedback means to me, or how I didn't take a writing vacation this fall

One of the things that seems to be a natural progression when you establish a rapport with other writer types, or so it seems to me anyway, is the idea of feedback. In my sheltered experience, writing tends to be a solitary endeavor* so the idea of having people read your creations can be both exhilarating and a fate worse than death. Constructive (hopefully) criticism. Dun dun dun.

*Forgive me, I'm old. I am aware of a younger (in theory, ahem) generation's online role playing/interactive fanfiction text/chat/black magic apps/etc. For the purpose of this blog post, I'm only talking about butt in the chair, ignoring other people, headphones on with soundtrack of choice kind of writing. Once upon a time, I engaged in 'primitive' online versions of interactive fanfiction featuring original characters (or OCs). I will refrain from geeking out about that here though. Hopefully.

You can imagine then, that if I've spent more than 20 *gulp* years scribbling furiously about every idea in my head and sharing with next to no one (my period of online geeking out the only exception), the very idea of being ripped to shreds and finding out I'm really not any good is ... well... indescribably horrifying. Me write goodly. Or not.

As I've formed relationships (even if they're only in my head) with other writers, I have been pretty quiet when it comes to discussing my ideas, my plots, my characters, my writing, even if I'm just bursting at the seams about something I'm pretty chuffed about. I keep waiting for someone to point at me and reveal I'm a writing pretender. I keep waiting for someone to tell me it's the stupidest thing they've ever heard.

There is only one time in my life that I was told I didn't write anything special or worth reading. There are plenty (tell me more, tell me more) of times I was told the opposite. And yet, that one negative experience was from someone I considered to be one of the people closest to me and I was a teenager desperate for approval. In the years following, that person revealed her true nature and I spent the better part of my twenties figuratively sewing up the plethora of knife wounds in my back from her hand. So then why, if everything from her was manipulative, have I not been able to dismiss her words about my writing? Why is one person's negativity outweighing a modicum of self-confidence and positive feedback from others?

So. With much reluctance I went to a new critique group started by someone I know. I kicked. I screamed. I drug my feet. There may or may not have been biting. I reminded myself that many writers throughout history didn't have critique groups to rip apart their ideas. 9 rings is too many, 3 is easier for a reader to follow. Don't make her so contrary, who wants to read about a girl who doesn't know her place and a tragic comedy of errors that leads her to love? I'm not really clear on the motivation, why are these people stoning this character to death?  Then again, there are plenty of books that would have benefited from somebody, anybody saying something. I would never! Okay, maybe I would. It rhymes with Lime Hot A Mast Pole. ;-)  

Anywho.... I went. And then I went again. And then I bitched about having a writing assignment and went again. I am still not exactly a critique convert, BUT, it is kind of cool when you hear that people like what you've brought in. That's not to say that critique groups aren't helpful for plenty of people. I'm being completely honest to say that I'm really more in it for the excuse to have people read something I've written to test the waters. Being told I should post my most recent writing exercise online? I could have talked about that for days. No, really. Obnoxious, needy obsession. And then I refocused on NaNoWriMo and grumbled about daily word counts again. Secretly wanting to share my brilliance with the world...  And really, if people hadn't been so kind or positive about what I wrote, I probably would have chalked it up to being right in my insecurities and never gone back.

So to that nagging insecurity in the back of my head, shut-ith up-ith and sit-ith down-ith & hang on for the ride. It's time for something that sounds more like self-confidence to take over.

Stop....NaNo time

It's day 5 of the hostage crisis. And by that I mean National Novel Writing Month. And by that I mean a time when people who should ordinarily know better band together by the thousands (no seriously, over 300,000 participants this year) to attempt to write 50,000 words in 30 days. That's a 1,667 words per day for those of you keeping score. It's pretty safe to say individual mileage varies.

It's like sports for book nerds - with t-shirts and everything. And I secretly adore it as much as I openly whine about it.

This is my second year joining in (officially registered) with actual other people. I'd heard about NaNoWriMo years ago when I was writing with friends from high school. We did our own informal thing, which petered out quickly. Last year I stumbled back upon the idea, went to the website and signed up. At the end of October. With no prep. And so many people were talking about more than a month of prep. *gulp* I went to the first meeting (Imagine my surprise: an actual group that held actual meetings in my actual area. Trust me, everyone I've met in this group has echoed that thought. There are reasons.). I was late and had that God awful moment of walking up to a table of strangers where everyone is watching you. Social anxiety super powers, activate!

I tried not to be intimidated by everyone animatedly chatting about their ideas and the finer details of inspiration behind it all. I gave a generic genre for what I was writing, and little more. I've never talked writing shop with anyone in my adult years. I wasn't about to out myself as the resident dork without any shred of hope for a decent book. My idea? Oh it came from a dream I had. My ideas come from all over the place. My imagination doesn't know how to take a day off. But this particular science fiction idea had come to me in the form of a vivid dream of a scene I knew I could build on. (Less than Interesting tidbit, I had another dream later on that ended up being the plot for another story involving new characters in the same world. See? I'm a dork.) I was met with mostly blank stares as I explained, only when specifically questioned of course, that I wrote just about any kind of genre in fiction depending on mood, inspiration, etc. The handful of people who smiled encouragingly, thankfully, are among the only ones who came to meetings afterwards.

In the year since then, my writing life has changed. I look forward to getting together with other writing friends, shooting the breeze, talking shop, bouncing ideas around, getting and giving support, so on and so forth. When all things are in our favor, we do so several times a month. Illness, day jobs, family commitments don't always make that possible, but that outlet has been invaluable. I've found my tribe, as eclectic as we may be.

I also drink coffee now, spurred on by a deep need for caffeine and not wanting to be the weirdo at the coffee shop who doesn't drink coffee. That title belongs to a new friend of mine, and I hope she doesn't spit her iced soy cinnamon chai latte on her keyboard when she gets around to reading this. After years of at home coffee fails I finally figured out, by way of my local baristas and a global coffee powerhouse and another new friend who is a coffee aficionado, how to find the right balance of coffee, flavoring and milk to stave off the bitterness in coffee that had long left me a sniffer but not a drinker. Oh, and NOT drinking any kind of instant coffee is a big help in that department for those of you in a similar boat. I don't care what they've mixed in that rectangular tin and called it flavored coffee, it's not. I'll probably never be a coffee purist, but I can now appreciate it. And crave it.

This November, I waffled at the idea of NaNo even though of course I was going to do it again. I narrowed down my choices to two ideas that had been calling to me throughout my year working on another project. I changed my mind a few times and mocked up simple book covers for each one (the better to be invested in your NaNo novel and encourage you to "win", so says the website). For the first time in my entire life, I explained the plot of my selection to a person I was not related to with all the paranoia of someone selling national secrets.

This year's inaugural meeting, I knew and regularly saw several of the people who would be going. I chatted up and online friended newbies who knew no one. I did the same at the next meeting. I was stupid excited at the amount of new faces that continued to show up. And above else, I was thrilled to talk shop and reciprocate endless rounds of  "Me, too!" as we shared our experiences and evolving processes. Some days writing is agonizingly slow. Some days it is magically engaging. But having people who get that and march along that same track, regardless of whether they write for hobby, for publication or something else entirely, is priceless.

Apparently I'm a bit of a writing extrovert. Who knew? If not for NaNoWriMo, I certainly wouldn't. So if you'll excuse me, my caffeine is kicking in and I have 1,667 words and a writing assignment to get to. And maybe just one more cup of coffee...

Happy Writing!