Deja Vu

NaNoWriMo is almost over and I have barely finished 3,000 words. Sure, I have one more day to get the remaining 47,000 words entered... but will I do it? Probably not.

I am sure you are thinking--- why is she writing this post instead of her novel? Well, I think by now you all know me well enough that I will pretty much do anything to not do what I am supposed to be doing. Right now, I think it is more important to outline my excuses for the pending failure of this year's NaNoWriMo than to actually write my novel. Here they are:

(1) I am incapable of self motivation. For whatever reason, if no one is there to check over my work, I just can't get things done. I know this is a bad quality I probably shouldn't share on things like job interviews, but it's the truth. If someone was forcing me to turn in work every day, I'd get this done. Without that, it's going to be like junior year all over again where I'd write my final draft of the essay and then fudge the rough draft later so my teacher could see "the process."

(2) I am a procrastinator to my detriment. I used to be able to get huge projects done in short periods of time, because the pressure of a deadline would force me to rise to the challenge. In fact, I took great pride in this character trait of mine, because, really, who else but me can pull off the amount of work I have gotten done in such short amounts of time? No one. Or at least, no one I have ever met yet. Those of you who know me in college know what I am talking about. Last minute trips to the library to grab all the oversized Art History books that were left, pages and pages of notes, borrowing my roommates laptop so I could find a quiet spot on campus to type into the wee hours, etc etc etc. This project however, was maybe too big for even me to handle. Maybe not. Only time will tell.

(3) I am not Jewish. It has come to my realization that many successful writers I like are Jewish. There must be a correlation between Jewish people and being able to write productively.

(4) My novel is not about me. With the word novel, you automatically assume fiction, so of course I was writing my novel about something made up. Now, I have to say, I like the theme of my novel, and if it ever came to fruition perhaps Oprah would like it too. But, it's not about me. I can write thousands of words a day (boring or otherwise) about me, but it takes me a while to get into the nitty gritty of other characters' lives. I know, I know, you'd think I'd like the characters I created myself enough to want to write about them, but I don't have a God complex so that's not the case.

(5) I think I have carpal tunnel. I always find that people take pity on you and believe your excuses more if they are medical. Even more so if involves an injury that would be physically debilitating. For some reason saying something like "mentally, I just couldn't write today" doesn't have the same amount of clout as saying "I broke my two hands and therefore couldn't write today because I don't have voice recognition on my computer." Since if you see me you will see I did not in fact break my hands, I feel like carpal tunnel is the way to go in this one.

(6) I'm only capable of writing lists. There, I said it. I am not a story teller, I am a list maker. And sometimes those lists turn into stories because I am not even a very good list maker. How can I make a list into a novel... wait a minute, now there's an idea.

(7) I have ADD. Okay, this one isn't true. But it would prevent me from writing a novel if it were true.

(8) I'm tired and lazy. I just wanted to spend my thanksgiving eating turkey and reading other people's writing. I didn't want to have to write, okay? I also like napping?

(9) Did I mention I ran a road race yesterday? No, this doesn't affect my ability to write, but I did have to train for it (using the word 'train' incredibly loosely) which meant getting up to run, then working, which then resulted in being tired and lazy. (See above excuse for more details on that one).

(10) So I don't have a 10th excuse, but I am putting a 10 next to this sentence anyway. What? Nine excuses aren't good enough for you people? You think I should have been able to finish the impossible task of writing a novel in a month. Thanks. Thanks for your support. I appreciate it.

I'm going to go babysit the munchkin now, and will write my novel later. Maybe next year. Or maybe this year. Who knows. No one. Not even me.

NaNoWriMo, etc

Today is Nov 1 or the first day in the National Novel Writing Month, which, yes, I will be participating in this year and will hopefully get done with more than 2,000 words, because that was just embarrassing.

I'm already off to a great start. I woke up this morning thinking I was going to hit the ground running by attending the Boston NaNoWriMo write in/ kick off at a location that is walking distance from my apartment. Instead, I laid around for a while, checked my email, and then texted Tim "Do you want to skip the write in?" Being a good sport, he replied that that was fine, but for all I know he is there now writing his 2,000plus words today so he can be ahead of me and win.

The problem is that I am a procrastinator. I've never been one to stretch out a project over a long period of time. In fact, I wrote a 30 page semester long research paper start to finish the day before it was due my senior year of college. Sure, that is not 50,000 words, but what I mean is, I need pressure. With 30 days to go, I am just not feeling it.

Instead, I decided to work on my Halloween costume. Yeah, all of you people celebrated Halloween yesterday night, but in my world, real Halloween is today because there are parties today. After much ado I decided my costume was going to be Not A Happy Camper. This means I am going to dress like I am going camping and look unhappy, with the aid of some accessories and props like a marshmallow in my hair and a burnt pant leg.

So, I hop on off to CVS/Whole Foods/White Hen to pick up some supplies. In CVS I grabbed some red lip liner so I can make it look like I got attacked by a bear with some strategically placed claw marks on my arm. In Whole Foods I picked up some marshmallows so I can stick them on my hair (because the absolute WORST thing that can happen while camping is getting marshmallow stuck in your hair). In the White Hen I grabbed a sandwich for lunch. I got back to my apartment and grabbed my mail. My parents sent me a Halloween card with a note that said to buy something spooky and "be safe." Promptly thereafter I fired up my gas stove and started experimenting with burning things.

Can I tell you how easy it is to make perfectly burnt marshmallows on a gas stove? I need 2 for my costume (any more would mean I'd have to rename my costume to "Girl Who Got Marshmallowed" or "The Girl No One Likes on the Camping Trip") and I made two and I was done. Granted, they aren't the perfect specimens of toasted marshmallow goodness that I'd actually want to eat, but they are exactly what you would want in a marshmallow for a costume. An activity I thought would take hours, actually took minutes. Blast.

Of course, this does free up my afternoon a little bit. I could get started on my novel. I could at least write an outline (do writers really make outlines?) or maybe some potential plotlines so I have a starting point. But instead, I will likely paint my nails and eat that sandwich I bought. And then I will probably make some more marshmallows. And then it will be late and I will have to throw my costume together. I've just now decided I don't really want to burn my old jeans even though they have holes in them. I think I might go burn some more marshmallows.

UPDATE: My costume is done and it is lame. I pretty much look like a camper with a couple of marshmallow barrettes and red lip liner streaked on my arm. However, at least I won't be the person who shows up dressed like static cling.