Archive for the ‘ Writing ’ Category

Having It All

One of Liz Lemon’s running in-jokes on the show 30 Rock is that she’s trying to have it all: Career, personal fulfillment, a family. That she rarely achieves even 2/3 of her goals is the source of much of the show’s humor, but it’s also an interesting examination of the plight of the post-feminist woman.

I’ve had plenty of time to think of this, especially during the first year of my time as a stay at home mother. I loved my job. When Aidan was small and the challenges of new motherhood seemed so much bigger than I was capable of handling, I wondered if I wasn’t a little crazy to give up my much-beloved career.

After all, what did it say about me that I was willing to trade in an engaging career for a never ending river of spit-up?

Don’t get me wrong, staying at home with Aidan has been and will always be the right move. It’s in line with my goals and priorities as a parent, it fulfills me in ways no career ever could, and I can see the benefits of it every time Aidan decides to behave himself.

The writing certainly helps. I have a stimulating hobby that manages to not only give me a creative outlet but also makes me feel like I’m still doing something tangibly worthwhile with my time. It helps. And it’s fun.

Now that I’m pregnant and have let my writing simmer on the back burner, that old post-feminist pestering is back. My ambitious nature goads me daily, telling me I should be working, not napping. That I’m willingly letting my dreams get hijacked by two little people who don’t even realize it.

Someone I follow on Twitter recently asked whether it was always necessary to choose between kids and goals, and why that was. I notice a lot of my peers struggling with this same frustration. They have goals, dreams, and ambitions and feel stymied by the limitations incumbent to a mother with young children.

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Zombie Sandwiches

I should know better than to go into NaNoWriMo thinking I know what I’m going to write about. I should really know better than to do a whole bunch of research on said book idea beforehand.

Why?

Because novels are squirrely. At least, mine are. They start out as one thing, then do an abrupt about-face that leaves me trailing after them holding scraps of now-useless research asking, “WHY?!?!?!?!”

Characters I think will turn out to be a big deal excuse themselves from relevance, throw-away side characters extract themselves from the woodwork and steal the show. It’s a silly business, writing a book. For all the good plotting does me, I might as well just wing it and stop wasting my time on preemptive research.

When I started typing novel #3 on November 3 (I know, two days late. Whatever will I do if I don’t finish?!) I had every intention of writing about a ballerina jewelry thief. I had the story all laid out, I was excited about it, I even had the first line all typed out in my head.

Wanna read that first line? Here:

She arched one impossibly long arm over her head, bowing it over her outstretched leg like a taut branch supporting the weight of a bird. A tiny chorus of pops and crackles from behind her as the muscles in her back warmed up, stretched, remembered their soreness from yesterday’s class.

But then…I couldn’t get past this paragraph. I tried changing point of view, I tried starting somewhere else. Nothing. Writer’s block. Muy no bueno.

So, I started writing about something else. I had no idea where it was going, I was just writing for the kicks of it. And then I started meeting this entirely new character. And thought maybe this could be that zombie apocalypse novel I’ve always wanted to write.

And, Heaven help me, I think it just might be. Wes and I combined our considerable imaginations and came up with an entirely new (to us, anyway) kind of zombie, and now I’m 9,951 words into a book I have trouble not writing because it’s so dang fun.

I’m still behind on my word count. By the end of day seven I should technically be at 11,669 words, and in order to pull that off I’d have to write an additional 1,700 words today to cap off the 1,400 I already wrote this morning.

So, I might not catch up today. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the day after that.

Who knows? By the time I catch up the novel may have changed again, morphing from a zombie apocalyse book into some kind of heartwarming tale of redemption and kindness and cracker sandwiches.

Stay tuned.

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…Anyone Hear That?

It’s the sound of NaNoWriMo. Calling to me from the piles of dead leaves outside, whistling around the clouds that slouch fat with rain above my lawn.

It’s November 3. And all my projects are done, way ahead of schedule. Dare I start NaNoWriMo late? Do I have the stones to thumb my nose at the prospect of failure and just toss my hat in the ring for the funsies of it?

HECK. YES.

I could fail. It’s possible, and maybe even likely. Instead of 30 days to write a novel, now I have 28. I’m like February over here.

Still, I can’t stop feeling angry whenever I see people hunched over laptops in coffee shops, writing what I’m sure are thousands of words of novels I want to read.

Screw prudence! I’m doing it. 50,000 words, I’m coming for you.

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Pre-Order Line Zero Now!

Remember the flash fiction contest I won? My winning story will be published in this month’s edition of Line Zero and now you can check it out (among other fantastic works of art) for 15% off!

To pre-order, click on this link and then use the promo code Fall2011 to receive your discount. My teeny little story is in there with some truly beautiful photography, interesting articles, and short stories that first grab and then rivet you.

If you feel like supporting local art or just want some new reading material, this is definitely worth the money.

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Ramblings From a Dirty Gym Sock

First of all, I’d like to wish everyone the very happiest of Halloweens! May your evening be filled to the brim with cute trick or treaters, Halloween candy, and the entertainment of your choosing.

As for me and my house? We’re going to be pretty mellow tonight. Halloween candy, a photo op for Aidan in his tiger costume, and then a showing of The Nightmare Before Christmas with my brother and his wife. Mellow, relaxed, and sugary. Just the way I like it!

The reason we’re going to celebrate Halloween in such a chill manner is because Wes and I are exhausted. Maybe me moreso than him, but that’s tough to qualify. The reason? Sick toddler.

Aidan started teething a couple weeks ago, so he and I both stopped sleeping well at night. Then, when the teething looked like it was almost done, he caught a bit of a cold. Then he spiked a fever. A fever that came and went for four days.

Yesterday morning he was so lethargic and feverish and un-Aidan-ish I couldn’t look at him without crying so I got him the soonest doctor appointment I could find.

It turns out he had a 102 degree fever and a double ear infection. The poor guy was miserable!

So now he’s on antibiotics and he slept the night through last night for the first time in weeks and HALLE-FRICKIN-LUJAH and oh my gosh I’m so tired I could collapse.

And do you know what starts tomorrow? November. And NaNoWriMo. And the holidays.

You guys…I don’t think I can handle NaNo this year. The whole point of wrapping up my revisions for Enemy Accountant early was so I could rest for the last two weeks of October, but my child had other plans. Now I’m entering into a writing marathon sleep-deprived, exhausted in almost every way, and feeling about as inspired as a dirty gym sock.

I love NaNo. I love the thrill of it, the sense of community, the adrenaline. But I refuse to pick battles I know I can’t win, and this has failure written all over it. Never mind the fact that I have a freelance writing thing I’ll actually get paid to do this month. Never mind that I still need to write a synopsis and query letter to the agents who requested to read Enemy Accountant

The fact is, I’m just worn out and I can’t have fun writing this next novel if I feel like crap. And what’s the point of writing a novel if it isn’t fun?

There isn’t a point (unless you’re under contract) so I’m bowing out of participating in NaNo this year. I’ll get a pang every time I get a NaNoWriMo email, and I wish all of you who are participating the very best of luck, but this is not my year.

Maybe next year…Oh, wait. I might have another baby lurking around by then. Well, shoot. I’ll write another novel between now and then, I suppose.

For now, I’ll just eat my candy, and dress my kid up, and catch up on sleep. Or maybe I’ll just watch Deep Blue Sea while Aidan’s napping…

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