Meat Sweats

Word Search: Refuge of the Contagious

You know you’re in bad shape when you break out in the meat sweats with the mental and physical effort it takes to do a word search. That was me the past two days: a sweating mass of green phlegm. It’s why I’ve decided not to kick myself for breaking my 90+ day chain in the Magic Spreadsheet. I thought of writing while I was down sick. I really did. But plunking down 400 words?  My body. was sending me a firm “rest, you jackass” message. So I listened, for a change of pace.

And today was my first day back at work after all that phlegmy, green joy. Mainly I was focused on remaining upright and not making a royal cockup of anything I touched. Bear in mind that I’m still getting the meat sweats and my sinuses feel like they’re filled with burning This makes for a very, very long day. On a happy note, my direct supervisor treated the department to OJ and Cup of Soup. This made me disproportionately happy, and I am sending many good karma vibes her way.

This Photo Was Brought To You Via Flagrant Disregard To Cell Phone Policy

One thing I did manage to do while I was out sick that fell under the productive adulting category was review my incomplete NaNoWriMo rewrite from a year back. I abandoned it because, well, it felt idiotic. Turns out, it’s not. Actually, it’s kind of good. A long way from done, mind you, but not the steaming pile of horse manure that I had imagined it to be when I trunked it.

Funny what a little time and distance will do for your inner critic.

I think this weekend I’m going to spend a little time putting together a gameplan for finishing a proper draft of this novel. It’s time to stop being so damn self-critical and get some shit done for a change. I’m not going to worry about word count so much at the present, just getting back into a good working groove. 

Happy weekend.

Turky Trauma and Thousands of Words

If you have participated in NaNoWriMo, you know well the challenges surrounding Thanksgiving. It's a quagmire  for writers. Word counts die on this day. In the past, I have felt lucky just to get a couple hundred words

My accomplishment for this Thanksgiving? Writing two thousand words while navigating family, the OH DEAR SWEET BABY JESUS I JUST ATE MY WEIGHT IN STUFFING sensation and binging on Candy Crush Soda Saga (is this a humble brag? I think I may have just humble bragged.)

Black Friday I spent adding another two thousand words, and I can finally, proudly say: The End Is Nigh. I am finally caught up with this month's word goal and I can see the sweet, sweet light of freedom.

What have I learned from this NaNoWriMo?

1) I hate writing literary fiction. Hate. It. I have precisely 0% interest in producing anything the League Of English Professors will approve of ever again. It's back to wizards and space operas for me, thank you very much.

2) Outlines are helpful. Seriously, that I have one is the only reason I did not bank out entirely. It's why I am going to finish this monstrosity.

3)If you put your plot bunnies in time out, they will eventually settle down and let you get to work. I have a couple Word files filled with story ideas right now. And I am going to start working on one in earnest the second this month is over.

So that's it. I am going to try to get three or four thousand words done today, so I can finish up entirely by tomorrow. Because Monday is my birthday, and I don't want to be working on this damn project when I could be crafting myself a Tuesday morning hangover, that's why.

Ciao for now.

For The First Week Of NaNoWriMo, I Lost My Sanity....

In which I give a brief summary of this week's activities.


Day One:

Wake up late. Look at the goal of hand writing this novel. Realize I was clearly crack addled when I made that goal. Open up Scrivner. Write a bunch. Go to the write in at St. Peter's. Write a bunch more. Eat diabetes inducing quantities of sugar despite having brought healthy snacks. Like an asshole. Crush my word goal. Forget coat at St. Peter's. Realize the fact far too late to do any good. Swear a bunch. Drink a beer.

Day Two:

Wake up in agony. Pop pain killers. Pull a few hundred words out of my bone marrow at lunch. Go home. Get shitty news. Write some more anyway. Curse the stupid inefficacy of stupid painkillers and stupid, ill timed migraines. Hit my word count goal anyway. Flip off the universe. Go to bed.

 Day Three:

First two plot bunnies show up. They are fluffy and adorable. Put them in a pen and promise to play with them the second November is over. Receive yet more shitty news at lunch, and spend the rest of the day trying to proofread through tears. Go home and write anyway. Hit my word count goal. Flip off the Gods of NaNo for daring to try to thwart me then  apologize and swear I didn't really mean it. Please stop hurting me.

Day Four:

Wake up late, feeling like Satan personally shat in my Wheaties. Whimper over coffee.Write at lunch. Nearly forget to feed myself. More plot bunnies show up. Beg them to stop fucking and let me finish my novel. Go home in the goddamn dark. Trip in the yard and sprain wrist. Write some more despite feeling like someone tried to beat me with a lead pipe. Go to choir. Sing. Write some more. Barely squeak past my word count goal. Whimper some more. Go to bed.

Day Five:

Write at lunch. Resign myself to the rampant fornication of the plot bunnies. Manage neither to injure myself nor receive shitty news. Go home. Write more. Hit word count goal. Drink celebratory beer. Pat self on back. Go to bed.

Day Six:

Write at lunch. Go to a cafe and write a little more. Realize I am a half step away from chanting "red rum RED RUM" in a shrill, crazy voice. Decide to take the rest of the night off for my mental health. Get drunk. Regret nothing.

Day Seven:

Do several hours of printmaking. Go to the library and do a couple of word sprints. Curse myself for falling so far behind. Take the dog to the dog park and watch him run around like an idiot. Transfer my Scrivner MS into Word. Realize I was massively off on my word count because Scrivner can't count. Cry. Vow to spend the rest of the night doing word sprints to catch up.

Post Script:

I just found my missing words. I had managed to hide one of my chapters in Scrivnerland. So, maybe wait until the month is over to start learning this program? Yes. Sounds like a plan.