Saturday, Nov. 16
Soccer season is now officially over! Hooray! And now I’m free to finish NaNoWriMo, right? Well, not exactly. At least not this weekend. I’ll have to plan a self-imposed write-in next weekend so I can catch up. In the meantime, here’s where I stand with my progress so far:
18,225 words. Which means: I’m behind, but not impossibly behind. I can still catch up and finish this thing, even if it kills me (which at this point I’m almost counting on it killing me!). And so what do I do when I’m stressed about my word count?
Procrastinate by baking and blogging.
Cookies, check! Pumpkin muffins, check! Homemade rolls, check! Word count, uh oh (insert sad emoji here). Blog? Working on it. Hoping to post on actual day of writing it (fingers crossed).
But what is my fear about sitting and writing my novel? I’m afraid it’s not cohesive (and by “it” I mean the novel, the trajectory, the journey, my thoughts). I’ve had terrible ADD this time around (last year I did NaNoWriMo for the first time and finished early!). Maybe I can blame it on my new status of mom-of-three. Maybe my story is not very interesting. Maybe it’s because I don’t have an outline. Maybe it’s that I’m not consistent with writing it so I fall out of the story and it’s hard to get back in, and then I’m so anxious to just write that I just start writing even if I don’t know where it’s going.
One thing that’s set this experience apart from previous novels, I’m writing a lot of dialogue. Like, mostly dialogue. Is this good or bad? I don’t know. It’s different. In other writing ventures, I have been so shy of making my characters talk, and then I force them to talk in later revisions. But this time around, all they are doing is talking and I need to fill in the scenery and the actions and the emotions of it all to frame the dialogue. It’s not a play, after all (or is it?).
I have notes on my trusty old notepad (which I tend to ignore, but they’re there, mind you!). And those sketch out some of the possibilities of where this thing (this beast, this anvil, this anchor, this creation of mine)is going. But I still feel a little (or a lot) lost when I try to sit down and write.
One problem? I am soooooo unfocused (and this is both literal and figurative).
I need a new prescription for my reading glasses (thank you 30s and thank you three kids who’ve apparently ruined their mom’s vision). And I just don’t know where this story is really going. And I worry that it’s just standing still. People are just talking about work and life and everyday problems and not DOING enough.
A mysterious phone call. A strange, supernatural/paranormal ability. And more…(don’t ask me what, I’m still figuring it out!).Okay, one house was set afire. Some complicated love triangles (or squares, or hexagons, or something like that…okay, everybody is in love with everybody…maybe). But what’s next? What does fate have in store for these troubled people?