A Glimpse into My NaNoWriMo Journey

For the past 24 days, I've been attempting to write a novel. The challenge to is to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days, which works out to an average of 1667 words per day. The intent is quantity, not quality, which is my only saving grace. I'm currently just shy of 40,000 words, which is a pretty huge accomplishment for me, not because I've written that many words, but because I haven't given up on my ideas. The hardest thing for me as a writer is to believe in myself and in my abilities. I feel like anyone can write 50,000 words in a month if they put their mind to it. And honestly, most days I feel like "anyone" in that I think my so-called "novel" is crap and that I'm just wasting my time writing it because it's drivel and garbage and worse. I especially lose heart and belief in my abilities when I read exceptionally crafted words by other people I know who are also doing NaNoWriMo. I feel like I'm deluding myself into thinking I actually have anything worthwhile to say and that I actually have any talent with this whole writing thing. But I think a huge part of being a writer is fighting, and conquering, your inner critic. So if the only thing I accomplish over these 30 days is to tell the insecure, "i'm-not-good-enough" writer inside of me to shut up and I keep writing anyway, I've succeeded. At least, that's what I tell myself to comfort and appease the part of me that is terrified that I'll hate what I've produced when this is over.

NaNoWriMo: Take Two

Well, right about now, another official month of novel writing kicks into gear and I'm really excited. I wasn't sure I was going to try it again this year, since I quit partway through last year, but I think I have a really good idea that has a ton of potential, so we'll see what happens. You can check out my progress here: http://www.nanowrimo.org/eng/user/406730

two poems: same topic, different approach

I wanted to write about the idea that sometimes, when we're treated by someone as if we don't matter, when someone who's supposed to care about us starts ignoring us, then sometimes it's easier to turn that indifference into our own and use it to deaden the pain of being treated badly. These poems began as one poem, but I soon realized that I had two distinct images going on and while I could link them, perhaps even well, it seemed like the poem should be separated into two. I like the first poem - "Narcotic" - better because I think that for some of us, emotion of any kind is like a drug and we often treat it that way... we allow our emotions to control us or we abuse them rather than learn how to process and own our emotions. The second poem - "Frozen Pyre" - actually encapsulates my original idea of countering anger by freezing oneself from the inside out to deaden the pain. I didn't spend as much time on it and I think it needs more work, but I still like the imagery. I hope you enjoy.

Narcotic

Your callous detachment cuts
so profoundly deep
the pain licks my bones.

So:

I compress my despair
into a capsule of disregard
and swallow it.

I willingly pierce my skin with your aloofness,
shoot your indifference into my veins.
Morphine for the agony.
Anaesthetic for the misery.

I wrap the tourniquet of your disinterest
around my heart so that,
although hardened crystals of insensitivity
sluggishly ride my thickening blood
and cut me open like broken glass,
the lacerations fail to revive.


I’ve distilled your cruelty into an opiate of apathy.

Frozen Pyre

How dare you ignore me?
Your impassivity is ignorant,
pitiless and malicious.

The fire of resentment
fuels my righteous indignation,
and burns me with rage.

Such intensity of emotion cannot be maintained
without permanent damage.

It’s a matter of survival:
I must cool the passionate embers
until dispassion takes their place.
I must allow your cold-bloodedness
to chill my heated blood.

I pack my heart in dry ice.
The permafrost is abysmal.
I become so brittle,
the flesh cracks off my bones.

I am freezing from the inside out.

And I am finally immune:
a senseless skeleton.