Wednesday, November 16, 2011

* throws hands up in the air * (aka a frustrated vent)

NaNoWriMo, I give up. I throw in the towel. I walk away in defeat....sigh

Two years ago, I discovered NaNoWriMo. I participated unofficially (in other words, I didn't sign up) and actually managed to meet the 50,000 word goal.

Last year, I participated officially and had an absolute blast. I love writing almost as much as I love reading, so it was fun to test my mettle, so to speak. Meeting that 50,000 was easy - I had a story in my head, time on my hands, I type 125 wpm (yes, you read that right), and things were good with my kiddo. I not only hit 50,000 words, I went well beyond.

I signed up again this year with high hopes. But I didn't have a story in my head, so I was going into it with more of a challenge than the last two years. I started out strong ... got 7,400 words down in 4 days and ..... nothing. For three days, I looked at that story and God help me, I couldn't write another word. It sucked. It sucked so bad that the thought of writing another word made me physically ill. I deleted it.

I spent the next two days typing a line or two and deleting them. And then a story hit me. I dove into it with crazy enthusiasm. Over the last 6 days, I've been trying to write it.

But my son and husband figured out I was participating. Suddenly, I've become the most needed person on the face of the earth. Every time I sit down to write, one of them suddenly needs my full and undivided attention immediately.

If I get up early in the morning, my husband gets up and sits beside me asking me what I'm writing, can he read it, and then talking my ear off until I give up.

During the day, I'm running around - I'm shuttle bus back & forth to classes, animal caretaker, housekeeper, laundress, grocery shopper, dishwasher, etc., etc. I haven't even been able to sit down, never mind turn on my computer. (I'm on a very short break between kid's classes right now.)

If I stay up late, they're both talking to me. And they've started staying up until I go to bed!! (I used to get from 10-12 to myself.) They want to talk talk talk. Did I do this? Did I do that? Where is this? Where is that? Can you find this? Can you get that? Blah blah blah blah blah on and on and on and on until I want to just scream at them to leave me alone for five fucking seconds.

(Oh dear, I sound a little hostile there, don't I?)

So, here it is - an hour break for myself. Husband (who for some reason stayed home & worked at the dining room table this morning) finally left. Kiddo is on campus (I've dropped him off and picked him up and dropped him off and picked him up and dropped him off again). One hour. The story is still there. Brewing. But I can't write. I'm sitting here looking at it. And ... nothing. It's like all my writing energy has been sucked out by evil writer blocking vampires.

I have 14,000 words on this new story. It's a good story. But it's done...I'm done...I give up. They win. I'm just going to go read.

*wishing I could take a month long vacation by myself to someplace warm & sunny, where they serve pina coladas *


  1. Can I go with you? But I want a mojito. Only 8 more years (PLEASEGOD) until there are no children in my house. I have a hard time going to the grocery store by myself.

  2. Are mojitos good? I've never had one. I'm usually relegated to beer (tho I admit, I'm very fond of microbrews). Pina coladas and frozen mudslides are my treats. Ooooh, and I love Mike's hard raspberry lemonade.

    ps I just read an article that said the average age for kids to move out of their parents home is now 26!! O-o