So… I’m way ahead of my goal for NaNoWriMo. I am, in fact, about thisclose to the 1/3 mark. That’s 33%, for those of you who like math. Wooo. Not too bad for six days of writing. Joy. Happiness. Rapture. (Hey, I’m easily excited, so keep your vibrating phone away from me.)
There are, however, a couple of factors that make this not as big a deal as it should be: a) the book I’m writing will probably end up being around 75,000 words, which means it’s highly unlikely I will finish writing it in November. Oh, woe.; and b) I’m actually hoping to hit the 50,000 word goal in three weeks instead of a month, because Sheri will be here the week of Thanksgiving and my writing production will most likely grind to a halt as we engage in all sorts of festivities. (And yes, her web page has been under construction since the beginning of time.) So, I’m right on target for hitting the 50,000 word mark by the time Sheri gets here-- which means no room for slacking off no matter how virtuous I feel. Eek.
In other news… it’s 1:30 a.m. and I’m w i d e awake, despite getting up at 7:45 this morning. Maybe I should borrow your vibrating phone after all, hmm?
I made my word count early tonight, but I’m still up at 1:30. Old habits die hard.
Good news is, I broke 10,000 words-- or 20%-- in four days! Bad news is, it’s all uphill from here. I know it’s crazy to try to write a book in a month. I know it smacks of a being a hack and that, having not only written several manuscripts, but actually having sold one book and dozens of other pieces of fiction and nonfiction-- I really shouldn’t need this kind of writing exercise to motivate me to write a novel. Having admitted all of that, the truth is this is a good push-- the push I need-- to get back into writing daily. I fall away from it so easily, yet when I do it and stay focused on it, I can turn out a respectable daily page count (or word count). The question of my life is, why can’t I do this every day, without some gimmick to motivate me? If anyone has the answer, I’ll give you a cookie.
I have written about my love/hate relationship with the writing process before. I love having written, I hate the writing. Maybe hate is too strong a word. Mostly I don’t like the feeling of helplessness and stupidity when I’m trying to find the words I need and they won’t come. This feeling of incompetency happens so often it makes me question whether I’m really a writer at all. Yet, I have the writing credits to prove that I am a writer. Not a famous one, not a wealthy one, not even an extremely well-published one, but I have written--and sold-- enough to prove this isn’t just a fluke. I can write-- and I can write a variety of things. I just wish I believed in myself every day that I write something rather than only on the days when I sell something.
It will be a long, long time before the bitter taste fades. It might take four years, in fact. I’m angry, sad, bewildered and yes, bitter. I don’t like the direction our country is headed, the divided road we are paving for ourselves. More than one person has apologized to me since last night, apologized to me. These are people who voted the same way I did and who are as unhappy with the results as I am, but they apologize as if Bush winning the election was somehow a personal affront to me. Maybe it’s because I’m taking this more personally than other people. I’m too old to be so damn idealistic, but this is the only way I know how to be. I want to live in a better world than we’ve been handed for another four years. I want it, but I’m not going to get it. Damn.
Meanwhile, NaNoWriMo is moving right along in nonpartisan fashion. My daily word count has been decreasing, but that may be because I was off on Monday and had more time to write, while yesterday was eaten up with the election and mourning the returns and today was about trying to sleep in (it didn’t work) and working. I’ll bump the word count back up by next week (I hope).
Truth is, I can write 50,000 words in a month. That really isn’t a huge challenge. That equates to about one ten-page paper per day. Remember the ten-pagers of your college days? Imagine writing one of those every day for a month. Honestly, it’s not so difficult to put the words on paper (as long as my wrists hold out-- I predict the carpal tunnel will start acting up in another three or four days). It’s not even so difficult to string together scenes that have some sort of chronology and cohesion. The difficult part is in trying to hang on to my writing voice as I write-- the humor, the edge, the sarcasm-- instead of resorting to utilitarian writing. That kind of writing-- quick and serviceable though it may be-- is boring.
I can go back later and liven up my scenes with humor. I know that. But in order to maintain my enthusiasm, I have to entertain myself with what I’m writing as I go. If the words are dead in the page, this project is going to be dead in the water before I get to the end of the month.
It’s hard to write funny when I’m so damned depressed. But I’m trying. I’m trying.
If you voted for George W. Bush yesterday, I hope you’re not African-American. Or Asian-American. Or Muslim. Or any other non-Christian religion.
I hope you’re not a woman. I hope you’re not between the ages of 18 and 40.
I also hope you’re not poor. I hope you’re not a member of, or married to, the military.
I hope you’re not a college student, small business owner or minimum wage worker.
I hope you’re not gay or bisexual.
I hope you’re not a writer or artist, and if you are, I hope your work is only the most innocent and innocuous of writing and art.
I hope you’re not a teacher, or a student.
I hope you’re not elderly. I hope you don’t have a chronic disease that requires expensive medical treatment.
I hope no one you love is any of these things, either.
In other words, if you voted for George W. Bush, I hope you are an upper middle class, straight, white male over the age of 40. Otherwise, you might get what you deserve.
And if you didn’t bother to vote at all, I hope the next four years are memorable for you.
I want to hang on to my faith that this election will not go the way of the last one. I want to, but that faith is slipping away. I honestly don’t know how I will feel if I wake up in the morning to find out we have been shackled to Bush for four more years. I know I will look at the people around me a little differently, a little more warily. Who are these people who are voting for things like the Patriot Act, for restrictions on our civil liberties, for destruction of our environment and natural resources, for more war, more violence, more death? The world is watching this election, the world has a stake, and I feel we are letting not only our own country down, but countries who have no voice, no vote.
I’m sad. I hope Ohio comes through since my home state of Florida went to Bush. I hope I wake up to good news. I hope the country doesn’t have to wait another four years for much needed change. By then, I fear, it may be too late.
What’s it all about?
Life. Love. Writing. Editing. Sex. Books. Romance. Movies. Friendship. Photography. Teaching. Coffee. (Lots of coffee.) Travel. Feminism. Academia. Insomnia. Memories. Experiences. Rants. Raves. Reviews. Babies. Pregnancy. Motherhood. Insanity. Musings of an insomniac writer. Want to know more?
