NaNoWriMo

I had two writing options this month.  In addition to writing comments on my students' papers and the regular e-mails for my school board gig, I thought it would be good to challenge myself.  This month is NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month) and NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month).  What to do? What to do?  I could either challenge myself to post a daily blog entry or to write 50,000 words towards a novel. Since "biting off more than I can chew" is one of my characteristic traits, I chose to begin that novel I always thought I should write.

I'm not necessarily regretting my decision because I'm enjoying the process.  But, do you have any idea what 50,000 words looks like?  It's roughly 65 pages of single-spaced text.  For me, at 500 words an hour, it's over 100 hours of typing.  It's meant leftovers and piles of dirty laundry.  It's been ignoring pleas for help with homework and screening calls on my cellphone.  Instead of falling peacefully asleep, I think about that next chapter. (Unfortunately, the brilliant ideas I have at 1 a.m. are forgotten by 7 a.m.)

On the flip side, do you know how many distractions a person can concoct in order to procrastinate?
"I'll think more clearly once the dishes are done."
"If I just fold laundry for an hour, I'll have more time for myself in the long run."  (Really?  How does that work?)
"I'd better check my e-mails and Facebook. Someone may have posted something clever that will inspire me."
"Bathroom break."  (There is a price to pay the multiple cups of coffee that writers seem to think they need.  I'm a novice, what do I know?)


And so it goes.  About halfway through, I strangled my inner editor and traded my tight, concise writing inclinations for abstract, over-the-top ramblings.  After all, 50,000 words is 50,000 words!

Why blog?

"Why blog?" a good friend asked. Good question. With a bajillion bloggers out there, who's to say that anyone would ever stumble onto my mom-ly ramblings. One of my children was appalled that I was going to write one. "No Mom!" she moaned, "I don't want to be a blog child." Fair enough. So, why write?

When I was in high school, and people would ask what I wanted to do (assuming I'd grow up) and I would reply that I was going to write. In college, I was even more convinced that I wanted to write. Wasn't that what successful English majors did? Instead, I had a houseful of very literate children. For the past 20-plus years I've written piles of to do lists, lesson plans for every genre of literature and period of history, the occaisional Christmas letter and sporadic entries into my "memoirs."

"You should write a book," a curious young mom said to me one day. She herself couldn't comprehend my household of 7 homeschooled children. So I thought I'd try my hand at blogging. Perhaps in the context of this mix of little paragraphs I'll find the stuff of a book. If not, I'll have exercised my brain a little more, and that's a good thing.