Archives for November 2018

So, I’m already behind with NaNoWriMo, and I’m here to tell you–that’s OKAY! If you start on November 21st, and only get 1200 words all month, if that’s more than you would have gotten without the challenge, you’ve done an awesome thing. The point of NaNo is to get you out of yourself and get you moving on the page.

Here’s my excuse: I’ve been at Walker Creek Music Camp. It was important for me to take these four days (okay, three) off writing altogether. I had a vague hope that I’d find time to write, but I didn’t. Please note I’m saying I didn’t, not that I couldn’t. You can always, always find time to write, even if the only way you do it is to get up earlier. I could have written. I chose not to.

In fact, yesterday I skipped my country-singing class with Laurie Lewis. She’s a fantastic teacher, and I was enjoying learning from her.

But I was tired. My stomach hurt from all the seltzer I’d drunk the day before (true story). I went back to bed to “write” and instead, I read and dozed and spent 45 minutes trying to write a song that went nowhere but sure was fun to noodle around with. Three hours! I spent three hours doing, essentially, nothing, and my brain spent the whole time thanking me.

I’m reading Tara Brach’s Radical Acceptance right now, and it’s already rewiring the way I think about myself.

I’m okay, just as I am.

You’re just fine, right now. The way you are, the way you’re sitting, what you ate, what you’re going to do tomorrow, everything you’ve already done today. It’s all just fine.

I’m doing NaNoWriMo, and I know I might not “win.” THIS IS SO GOOD FOR ME TO KNOW. Of course, I’ve lost NaNo in the past, several times. Sometimes I win. And it does not matter. If I win, I’m good. If I lose, I’m still good.

I’ve spent my life being competitive, mostly with myself. This month, I’m trying to let that go. It’s a funny month to do it, and it’s a strange use of NaNoWriMo, but hey, I believe in the power and magic of NaNo to achieve many impossible things. It seems impossible for me to let go of perfectionism in Gettings Things Done, but I managed to completely let go of perfectionism in writing first drafts (and how), so I have hope that this can be done.

This morning, as I skipped another morning of class, I’ve been sitting in the camp dining room reading my most recent Venice journal. As I think of things that I could write about in my Venice memoir, I’ve been jotting them down in another journal. I have two columns, the What and the So What. What happened, and what did it mean? 

This kind of brain dump assures me that I’ll have more than enough to write about this month. When I teach memoir, I always encourage my students to write whatever comes to them, in whatever order. Throw all the scenes into a big box. Organize them later. I’m following my own advice, and I’ll let you know how it goes.

Grateful for this moment: No one is paying any attention to me. I can hear the last-chance jam playing “Rambling Man,” which they’ve been playing for at least ten minutes now. Outside the big windows, the sycamores are losing their leaves. Young live oak trees, no more than ten years old, I’m guessing, circle the property, and I just looked out to see a hawk slanting through the wind near the flagpole. A man is whistling along to a song that isn’t “Rambling Man,” and he’s been doing so since — AUGH, he just came over and said,

“Are you really a word prostitute?”

“Yes,” I said, unamused. To myself I thought, I really have to cover up that sticker on my computer. 

And now he’s been met by another male whistler. They’re chatting now, but I expect them to break into whistled song at any minute. (I’m an absent-minded whistler, too. I know how annoying we are, but I swear, it’s impossible to hear when you’re doing it yourself.)

Soon–GOING HOME! I haven’t been home on the weekend for almost a month, and I CANNOT WAIT to be home and not on deadline. So, so, so grateful.