It was touch and go there for a while. Not lookin’ too good this mornin’ when I still had 4,000 some odd words to go and a To Do List a mile long but… you know… you dig down deep and just like, totally blow off your To Do List and here’s what you get.
It’s only 20,000 words (20,031 if we’re being accurate) but that’s more of this story than I had a month ago and that’s something to be proud of.
Happy camping, writer friends. Maybe all your mosquito nets be undamaged.
Is anyone else, like…
*type type type, check word count, update CampNaNo word count, words written = 74*
*type type…. typetypetype, type… and…. type, check word count, update Camp NaNo word count, words written = 97*
*Buzzfeed, Instagram, Twitter*
*type type typety type type typetypetype typety type type typetypetype, check word count, update Camp NaNo word count, words written = 112*
UGH, is this month over yet?
I love a good routine like I love a good Writing Rule, following it only as far as I need it to take me and then bending and changing and maybe even breaking it outright if that’s what’ll work.
You know who that doesn’t work for? Preschoolers. You know what a preschooler does not thrive on? Changing the routine for no reason. You know what my son’s preschool did today? They started lunch 15 minutes early which is 5 minutes before I arrived which was 10 minutes early.
My son usually leaves before lunch. Mommy comes to get him BEFORE lunch. So in child mind, when lunch started and Mommy didn’t show up…
Thanks preschool. Way to exert your expertise in child development.
I am just over 9,000 words away from meeting my adjusted Camp NaNo goal and it… doesn’t… look… good.
Unless I can write half of that today, in under 3 hours while multitasking some actual work stuff, I won’t make it.
So the question is: Readjust that goal again or take the fail and know that when my children get older I WILL have more time for writing again?
**UPDATE**: I wrote 4,339 words today which is almost half! This race ain’t over yet!
IS IT CHEATING if you change your goal to meet the reality of your circumstances?
I ask because I’m not sure. But neither am I sure that I care.
As I say to my students when they get a little too intense about a friendly game of dodge ball:
What happens if you win? Nothing. What happens if you lose? Nothing. There are no stakes other than your own enjoyment so ENJOY IT and don’t worry so much about the outcome.
I changed my CampNano word count goal to 20,000 because I think that’s doable, if still difficult for me to accomplish right now. Still, I think I’ll get more out of this experience if I can at least get close to my goal than if I fail miserably.
The real goal is to keep writing. Feeling good about what I can accomplish is key.
And for all the jackholes who said, “What’s so bad about infidelity?” I say:
Listen, jackholes, he didn’t just cheat on his wife and got found out. He used his position of power in a demonstrably misogynistic and opportunistic industry to coerce the women who worked for him into extramarital relationships. Then he gaslighted his wife, making her believe she was CRAZY for thinking he’d cheat because he was such a big fat feminist. Meanwhile, he presented himself to the world as a champion of women’s rights.
Coercion
Gaslighting
Hypocrisy
To name a few things other than infidelity.
And the new show is on HBO which routinely excuses rape as a valid form of plot advancement. So no. Not interested.
I just saw a bus ad for The Motorcycle Lawyer, a dashing white-haired dude in a dark polo, jeans, and a leather jacket who’s totally straight-laced and reliable but with a wild streak! I mean, he’s obviously not a REGULAR lawyer. He’s a COOL Lawyer. He’d rather you didn’t break the law but if you have to, have him on retainer.
And you know, what? Cool motorcycle lawyer probably gets a lot of clients because Baby Boomers still think counter-culture coolness is dudes on motorcycles and girls in bikinis or whatever. Damn the man, they say, with no sense of irony. I’m ain’t gonna follow no rules, they yell at their queer grandchildren who just want to use the bathroom. I’m no square, they cry as they enact policy banning things and people that are different from them. Ban the bomb, they chant, as they vote Republican over and over again and watch their children’s and their grandchildren’s world grow more and more volatile.
The Motorcycle Lawyer. Dude, Dennis Hopper is dead and Peter Fonda’s a liberal. You’re just the hick with the shotgun.
Your 15-year-old self hates you.
Before my first child was born, I told my OB/GYN that I was concerned I was a good strong candidate for some hardcore postpartum depression. She referred me to a therapist and suggested I see her before the birth so I could start working on coping strategies before the big event.
I spent three sessions of an hour each complaining about my mother-in-law.
Now, a good therapist–which she was not–would have read between the lines and addressed my issues with expressing emotion and how having a child was scary for me because it came alone with BIG EMOTIONS that I didn’t feel prepared for. My mother-in-law is a frequent expresser of emotions, you see. I did explain that. I did explain a lot of things. But when I said, “I don’t really think these sessions are helping me,” she said, “Well, you managed to fill the hour well enough.”
Let’s skip past the obviousness of her ineptitude and touch upon the most relevant nugget of wisdom for a busy person trying to fulfill a word quota for a Camp Nano project:
If you’re a good enough complainer, you can fill several hours–or several thousand pages–just with that. The good stuff, we’ll leave for next month when the pressure to perform is off.
Tell me more about my paycheck…
Also, writing is my best therapy. It doesn’t always make for great copy but it does force me to express and examine my issues several times over. And it’s free.
I’ve been reading quite a bit about BDE* this weekend and I would like to nominate my daughter as the next big thing.
*I’m looking forward to the KidzBop version of this because it’s got a great beat but a bit too explicit.
Just a few moons shy of a full year old, my daughter can’t even really walk yet but she’s climbing things like she’s got places to be and people to look down at and wave to.
My son has a Planes scooty thing with little wings that fold down on the side. Baby girl not only got herself two feet up on the seat but stepped out ONTO THE WING while holding the coffee table. She tried to get on the coffee table from there but I felt like that was a step further than I was willing to allow.
And yeah, I let her climb up there. I want to see what she can do. More so, I want HER to see what she can do. And if and when she falls, I’ll be there to catch her.
I feel like if kids got the itch to climb, they’re going to climb and the least I can do as a parent is teach them how to do it safely. I did the same thing with my son and no major injuries yet.
Then again, he never even considered some of the daredevil stunts my daughter gets into.
PROOF!
Geez Louise, Eda, why is your word count stuck at 23 today?!
Well, internet, given that “free time” is a precious commodity in my life and I’ve just wasted half of it restarting my damn computer, I’ve opted to go clean out my closet instead.
My computer doesn’t want me to write today. It’s not procrastination.
It’s not.
This is what I’ve written today:
I’ve got nothing doing. I had had a nice little fantasy about a Mexican actor I’ve had a crush on since film school.
Go go Na-noooooo!
Eda J Vor 