By Cam
Well folks, I’m officially on the last leg of NaNo. My current wordcount is 40,056 so I have just under 10,000 more words to write before Dec. 1 rolls around.
I think I can do. No–take that back. I know I can do it. But I’ll admit it was easier in the beginning to get the words down. And really it wasn’t until two days ago that it got hard. My problem is that a chatty muse woke me up at 6am with a brilliant story to tell…in a genre I don’t write. At least not yet. I’ve been hand-writing some scenes in a journal as they come to me just to appease the muse that won’t shut up, but I’m keeping mum about it until NaNo’s over. Then it’s off to another world!
But I wanted to focus on what this month is all about: Giving Thanks.
There’s so much I’m thankful for, too many to name in this post, but with the help of NaNo I’ve come to realize that there’s still some gusto in me. Since I seriously started writing in April, I can honestly say I’ve never written this many words before in one piece. I’ve gotten really close, and I’m sure if you add up all my partially-started stories and put them together in one document (albeit, a really incomprehensible document), I’d probably have an encyclopedia-length book.
But the beauty of this little thing called NaNo is that it forces you to dig deep and get it all out. November’s been the most trying and stressful month, but also the most complete. November’s filled with lots of coffee, chocolate, Sour Patch watermelons, late nights, mental breakdowns, fits of self-inflicted ego bashing, turkey, and typing. November’s torn me apart and glued me together. And it’s breathtakingly gorgeous. November has reinforced to me that I’ve truly found my own passion.
Writing.
And aside from my beautiful family, writing is what I’m grateful for this Thanksgiving. The gift of words has provided me with more connection to myself than anything I could’ve imagined. I believe it makes me a better citizen, a better wife, a better mother…a better me.
So I raise my glass…er, turkey leg…and say:
Thank you November.
By Cam
Okay, okay. I know I’ve been a stranger to my own site lately and haven’t touched my WIP page in, oh, months, but there have been excellent reasons I assure you!
For one, I’ve been busy, busy writing. Short stories, full-lenths, encyclopedias…okay, that last one was a joke and admittedly a bad one. But I have been writing a lot thanks to my new I-hate-you-so-much-I-love-you boyfriend, NaNo.
NaNo’s like that personal trainer who’s oh-so-glorious physique intimidates you so much you contemplate skipping that first session and eating up the $100 bucks you dished out in the first place. Only to realize that the first session of leg lifts and lunges weren’t THAT bad because hey–your ass looks great and you finally figured out how to apply streak-free bronzing lotion to those now-glam gams of yours. But then after the second and third session, you admit to yourself…maybe that double hour of crunches, pull-ups, and push-ups were a little more than you could chew. Maybe it’ll hurt far worse tomorrow than it does today.
That, to me, is NaNo. And that’s the stage I’m currently in. I passed the first week when I thought I was doomed to fail because my Vegas trip sidelined my NaNo start by 4 DAYS!!! But upon my return to my favorite little nook in the house (aka: cluttered kitchen table with a cat who likes to claw my leg while I pound out the words), I was able to catch up and pass the daily goals I had set for myself. Things were looking good. I was finally getting that nice personal-trainer-ass I invested so much into (outlines, index cards, new netbook, new download of a no-fuss text editor).
But then came the bloody personal trainer session trite with ab rolls, push-ups, and pull-ups. Otherwise known as dun, dun, dun…
WEEK TWO.
Week Two has infamously been known to cause rampant cursing escapades and temporary insanity card-flashing to many a NaNo writers. On Sunday I thought to myself, “I will not allow Week Two to best me.” Boy was I wrong.
But to be fair to myself (and to the little nugget of sanity I’m clutching on to with two hands and two feet), I started out brilliantly. I was following my outline (almost), coloring my characters (muted gray’s a color, right?), and well on my way to discovering the glorious plot twists and turns I had oh-so-righteously developed. Until the most dreaded thing happened. So dreaded I’m afraid to even write this down here lest it happen again because the evil NaNo overlords have witnessed the agony they’ve caused me and by God, they liked it and want more.
But alas, I think I owe it to you to explain why at this very moment I’m about two strands of hair away from being a newly-vinted bald woman. What? Britney pulled it off…sort of. Okay, not really. But Sinead O’Connor. She was a hottie.
So here it is. Two nights ago I was zipping through my word count at blinding speeds. Wind in the hair. Fingers on the verge of falling off. And Hubs texted me to Tivo a show for him, which at first I was a bit disgruntled about–I was in THE groove–but decided since he was working a double shift and had been so supportive of me NaNoing, that I set the DVR and resumed my writing. I re-read my last paragraph, copied a sentence to move down (because as much as I try, I can’t completely shut off my internal editor. She’s just too damn mouthy.), cut it from its original place.
And then screamed.
My entire wordcount for that day–oh, around 2K–was gone. Vacationing. Visiting relatives. Visiting the homeless. Whatever. It was nowhere to be found. I checked my auto-save log and not one of the words I had written showed up. Not. One.
I picked myself up from the puddle on the floor (with still a full head of hair at that point), and scraped by to at least get my minimum word count in for the day. But it wasn’t the same. The words I had originally written were brilliant. Okay, maybe brilliant isn’t the right word. But it was better than the crap that’s currently holding a spot in my manuscript.
So that unfortunate incident has created a tailspin, a domino effect, a snowball bruhaha, of my NaNo work. I need to call Stella because I want to get my groove back.
Til next time blog readers (if you’re still there and not mad at me for abandoning you on my quest for NaNo greatness). I hope when I see you next my hair has grown back in. I’ve been shampooing with this stuff they use for horses and…oh, nevermind.
Cambria Dillon - YA Writer
