nanowrimo 2013 in review

November went and flew by like a flying autumnal whoosh of a thing and I am sitting here looking at December somewhat skeptically. But I did have a just-barely successful NaNoWriMo, and I am impressed with myself considering how long it’s been since I’ve participated and how many days I had to skip entirely.

I stayed more on-pace than any other NaNo I’ve done before, mostly because I just didn’t have time to get my standard head start. I had lofty goals of maybe doing more than 50k but I ended up right on target. This is a screencap of my day-to-day handy chart from the NaNo site:

Screen Shot 2013-12-03 at 2.07.16 PM

 

I had planned at the outset to be all NaNo Rebel and work on two different projects but I didn’t really do it the way I intended. I spent the first half of the month working on a new thing and then thought about going back to the other novel-in-progress but decided to work on the new thing more instead.

I write out of order, which is good for me but not necessarily the tidiest way to approach a draft of something. So in the middle of all the bits and pieces I started some other pieces and I somehow ended up with about 15k worth of stuff that does not belong in this particular new thing. I think I accidentally wrote background mythology for an entirely different thing, but I don’t know what that different thing is yet. I like those bits, though, so I will keep them safe and fed and watered until I figure out what they want to be.

The rest of it is… not a novel. It’s not even a draft of a novel, it’s 35k of stuff that I might be able to polish into the beginning of something that could maybe someday be developed into a novel of some sort. It all needs a great deal of work. I haven’t re-read any of it yet but I’d guess that maybe half of it is useable. There are individual scenes and moments that I like a lot. I’m going to put it away and go back to the other novel and then when I have more time I’ll pull it back out and see what works and what doesn’t and figure out what I can play with further. 2013-Winner-Vertical-Banner

It was fun, overall, though I am out of practice and it was harder to get out of that self-critical headspace than it used to be, but at the same time I think I trust my instincts more. My favorite part was still there, too: the finding of things I wasn’t expecting, in that whirlwind of imagination exploration.

So, hurrah for NaNoWriMo, hurrah for those of you who participated and won, hurrah for those who participated at all no matter the result because you have more words than you might have otherwise, and hurrah for all the non-November words to come.

 

flax-golden tales: steps

stepssteps

Step 1 is not the hardest, though it has a reputation for being such.

(It has been worn more than all the others, by countless feet that have passed before you so it is softer and lower and easier to climb.)

Step 2 and Step 63 are the most difficult, for very different reasons.

There is no step 72, for superstitious reasons.

There are 59 different steps filled with doubt.

Step 99 will boost confidence, but only if stepped on with both feet.

On step 147 you will realize whether you should be going up or down.

(It will likely be opposite of the direction you had been traveling, but you will find new steps on the reverse trip.)

You may stop and rest whenever you need, revisit past steps or never look back.

The steps are what they are, for you to use as you decide.

 

About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.

happy giving of thanks

thanksgiving 2013

Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy Hanukkah!

Holiday greetings from warm climes with cold wine and no turkey! Cornish game hens with lemon and rosemary and white wine and garlic instead. They were an experiment but came out surprisingly well.

I am Thankful for so many things this year. Too many to list. For those lovely souls who listened to me cry and held my hands and gave me moonshine, they know who they are. For old friends and new friends. For my family up in Massachusetts who are likely colder than me at the moment but I know they have plenty of cookies. For people who read books and write books and sell books and blog books and whatever the proper verb is for librarians and books. (“Lend” does not seem to cover the full scope of librarian ability.)

This has been a strange year. I think I am ready to wrap myself in the holiday season like a cinnamon-scented blanket and bid 2013 a slow farewell. If today was any indication, I am off to a delicious, cozy start with that.

(Though I was mildly disappointed that the Pekingese didn’t win Best in Show at the National Dog Show. It looked marvelously like something out of a Studio Ghibli film.)

For now I am going to pour espresso over toasted almond gelato and be filled with the sort of thanks that is difficult to put into words.

Wishing you all warm delicious cozy things.

flax-golden tales: the gulls who guard the lake

the gulls who guard the lakethe gulls who guard the lake

they call them seagulls because lakegulls is not a word

but they are gulls of the lake and it is the lake that they guard

they cry alerts that are too often misunderstood

interpreted as demands for scraps of bread

guardian gulls are not beggars

their reputations are tarnished by ill-mannered gulls who call less treacherous waters home

no one thanks these gulls for their service

but they keep their watch, never sleeping

they know what lurks beneath the waters

they fret, concerned that when the time comes, their warnings may not be heeded.

 

About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.

foxie.

So last night we stopped at FAO Schwarz after dinner and in the Central Park Zoo section there was a plushy fennec fox and we had to take him home. I mean, how could we not?

fennec fox

I carried him home sticking out of my purse like a small dog and as far as I could tell no one even noticed. I kind of love New York for that. (I have, for the record, only asked the fox what he says about a hundred times.)

Also in adventures from last night: I very much enjoyed David Blaine’s Real or Magic, I am fond of his style anyway and Ricky Gervais’s lovely rambling reaction at the end about real things disguised as illusion reminded me of the circus.

In other news, off to warmer climes for extended holiday season stuff soon, though I can hardly believe it is so late in the year already. This year flew, like a little fast thing with wings.  I will likely be even more MIA from the internet than I have been already due to the wonderment that is NaNoWriMo. (Current word count: 38,415.) I will probably Instagram Thanksgiving cooking adventures. Also I have downloaded Welcome to Night Vale to listen to on the road trip because I have heard endlessly good things about it.

There are lots of random things to post about and hopefully I’ll find more time to post about them in December, and I’m keeping all my crossables crossed that 2014 ends up being a bit calmer than 2013 on several levels. I hope you are all well & wonderful.

flax-golden tales: bargain-priced wisdom

bargain-priced wisdombargain-priced wisdom

I can feel them sneaking glances at me from across the room but they don’t swivel their heads and fix their giant owl eyes on me until I get closer.

“We will share with you the Wisdom of the Ages!” one of them chirps.

“For less than 30 Euros!” the other adds.

“How much less?” I ask, even though I can read their price tag.

“One cent!” they chirp in unison before bursting into hooting laughter.

The shopkeeper thanks me when I buy them and appears to enjoy muffling their exuberant cries about going on “a box-journey” with tissue paper as she packs them up for me.

I put them on the mantelpiece when I get them home. They criticize my taste in furniture and complain that the fireplace makes their feet too warm.

I contemplate returning them and then they start doling out the Wisdom.

They punctuate each mind-expanding revelation with hoots and bad jokes but I’m too busy looking for a pen to care.

 

About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.