(lensbaby love)

The path is not always clear and sometimes it is downright impossible to see never mind to follow.  Week 2 of nanowrimo was a bitch in a long white sweater and that bitch wasn’t wearing any underwear and the sweater was full of snags.  I was doing okay, it was feeling good.  and then.  Thursday evening I stared down a four day weekend and thought to myself, I could use a break, just one night.  I’ll catch up later on Friday.  You can see the writing on the wall can’t you?  If I was writing this in my storybook, I would have shouted, nooooooooooooooooooo.  I am so easily deluded.

I watched movies with my boys and baked some bread and felt pretty awesome.  I forgot that I might be sad on Friday because that particular holiday of remembering and honouring is or was my sister’s birthday.  I am never prepared for how these things will hit me emotionally.  Sometimes I am fine and sometimes it is a kick right there, in that spot that hurts just like that.  Poke it with a stick.  I even went to one of my favourite coffeeshops, little laptop tucked into my bag and I wrote long poetry that was deeply personal and rewarding in its own way but I didn’t make a dent in my words, not one new update.

Saturday morning shone brightly at me and I did that quick calculation knowing that I had to write 5001 words to get caught back up and so I sat in front of the computer. and I wandered facebook.  I hooped.  I surfed the internet for more recipes.  I made scones and maple bacon.  I wandered facebook.  I realized I was running late and needed to shower because I was going out to a proprock event to celebrate world hooping day, think gypsy caravan meets rave meets hooping goddesses meets poi balls meets the circus.  Fun!  I didn’t write one solitary word on my nanowrimo novel.  It was a good day for life but a not so good day for writing.  I was, at this point, in full on avoidance mode and I couldn’t figure out why, other than I was now needing to write 6668 words on Sunday.  um.  shit.

The thing is, I was sort of liking my book.  The characters are sort of interesting all things considered and the plot was moving along even if I still had no real idea as to how it was all going to work in the end.  I had even talked about it with a few people and they were so enthusiastic and begged to read it when it was finished.  Wow.  That is so amazing to me.  And hold the bus.  SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH!  I realized as I lay drooling in a drunken stuper on Saturday night, er Sunday morning, that I was freaked out.  I had actually agreed to let some people read this crazy nanowrimo adventure of a writing shit storm that started with no idea, no outline other than a photo collage and no expectation whatsoever on my part other than to break the cherry on writing a storybook, i.e. a full length novel.  And now I had to make sure it was good.  because.  people were going to read this piece of shit.  um.  I totally set myself up to quit.

So on Sunday, I skipped the write-in at the downtown library even though I had committed to going.  I made more scones.  I cooked some stuff.  I contemplated baking muffins, a cake.  something.  And then I sat myself down in front of a mirror and realized I couldn’t look myself in the eye.  I was letting me down in a huge way and I didn’t like it.  My word for 2011 has been integrity and it has steered me well.  I wasn’t living with integrity on this Sunday afternoon and so made myself a tea and hooked myself up with write or die and got down to it.   I was at 15,144 words when I sat down and when I got up, dizzy and a bit spacy, I was at 21,677.

I am so freaking proud of me.  I didn’t give up on myself and I am not going to give up on myself.  Not only that, I really like where the story went to while I was hunkered down writing over six thousand words well into the late evening.  Oh sure, there is some weird spelling and I didn’t stop to fix all the grammer and some areas might have some continuity issues because I am running parallel universes in this story.  but overall, I kicked some ass, oh yes I did.  All that said, I have zero expectation.  I am not going to set myself up for more worry and doubt around it.  I am happy to have people read it so long as I can do the big disclaimer around first draft, no clue, write a novel?  huh? what?  I need to rework that whole section dude.  uh huh.  yup.

Starting week three in fine shape, I even made me a roast in my crockpot.  Oh yeah, and there will be writings with some hooping thrown in for good measure.  The path is hazy but I am going to keep traveling down it because I really do want to see how this all ends.

*where the words live?  i really have no clue but love it when they pour through me and land sticky on the page.  oh yes i do.

Apparently, my procrastination techniques know no bounds.  I came home one evening, tired and drained from work, the voices of my characters melding with the voices of my colleagues and I couldn’t take it.  I felt like a beige stain of correct writing in a research factual tone and I looked in the mirror and saw a worn out middle aged woman with bags under her eyes staring at me.  I was behind by a good three hundred words, not a big deal in the grande scheme of 50,000 words but the days go quickly and it can all add up pretty fast.  I sat down at my keyboard and the screen swam in front of me and I knew that I just couldn’t write from this place.

So, I grabbed my make-up train case and pulled out my bin of gypsy clothes, the ones that make me feel as though anything is possible, the ones that remind me that I am more than a black blazer and a writer of other people’s designs.  I drew myself a new face of fun and I leaned into my camera and snapped until I found myself whole again.  There is fear based procrastination and then there is the procrastination that is all about self care and love.  I would love to show you the other photos that I took that night but they are perhaps a bit too risque for public consumption but they fed my soul.  And after I had scrubbed my face clean, put on purple comfy jammies and grandma slippers and brewed a lovely vanilla tea, I wrote for hours, losing myself in all the different voices of me blooming out of my characters.  It felt good.

On Saturday, I went to a room in the basement of the downtown library, laptop slung over my shoulder and a big bottle of water, some caramel toffees and joined other nanowrimos for a write in because writing is hard and a bit lonely.  It isn’t typically a team sport afterall.  

I highly recommend the write-in for a few good reasons, you get out of the house and into a different environment which is only a good thing for writing inspiration and you get to meet other people who are clearly as wacko and brilliant as yourself and suddenly you feel much less alone in it all *and yes i did just call myself brilliant and why not, we don’t typically give ourselves nearly enough praise afterall*.  Also, the timed writing.  The timed writing cracked my world right open.  It is brilliant.  I can’t believe how many words I wrote on Saturday at that write-in and my story actually started really moving, there was action, there was exposition, dialogue even.  I left feeling wholly satisfied and committed to going to as many write-ins as I possibly can.

On Sunday, my procrastination knew no bounds.  My parents were coming to visit in the afternoon so I couldn’t go to the write-in that I was fully planning on going to so instead I scrubbed the bathroom; washed all the laundry in the house (mmmm clean sheets); cleaned the kitchen 3 times; swept the house; mopped the floors; baked muffins; went all crock pot crazy and cooked three different dinners for the week; cleaned my desk; dusted the entire house and oh did I mention that my house was actually clean before I started cleaning.   I finally sat down in the early evening (thank you day light savings for giving me an extra hour!!) having written almost nothing, well okay, having written nothing.  I listened to some music, uploaded polaroid girls and dorked around on facebook.  I hooped for a bit.  Dorked around on facebook some more.  And then made some vanilla tea and complained to my husband that I would never get to my goal of 10,500 words at this rate.  And then inspiration hit.  I took the lessons of the write in and set my ipod timer and decided to do 3-15 minute timed writings with 5 minute breaks in between. 

And so I happily tell you that I am starting week two with 11,780 words thereby exceeding my goal.  I am excited to see what week 2 brings as I have heard it can be a challenging week but I am feeling excited, nervous and a bit amazed at how far I have come with it. 

And I am really enjoying how clean my house is and the fact that I seem to have become obsessed with my crockpot.  If you have any tried and true slow cooker/crock pot recipes, I would love to hear them … November is a long month with much writing to go.  Please help feed my procrastination and my family.