Failing NaNo in 5 Easy Steps

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I decided earlier in the fall to try and do NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) this year. I had been a bit afraid to try it in the past, largely because the idea of setting such a short deadline on writing seemed like a great way to set off my anxiety.

Death by panic attack looked like a reasonable outcome, so I never tried it, though I watched with a little envy as my friends started their novels and posted their NaNo updates. I wanted to do it, but I was chicken, and that’s the pure truth.

So I had this idea for a new book and had a little bit of it going. I titled it “Maternal Consumption” and it was to be about this woman,  Samaria, who had a past filled with blank spots that she couldn’t remember, a dead mother, and grumbly tummy. As she begins to eat her mother, she consumes her mother’s memories, thereby filling in those missing pieces of her life. I got about five thousand something and something words in and that’s about it. I hit an absolute wall. Nothing was flowing, but sometimes that happens, right? I planned to just force some words out, but what ended up happening was just…plain nothing.

I thought of another idea, a new story. Sometimes if I’m stuck, writing something else gets the words and ideas going. So I started the new story, hoping it would unfreeze the ideas for Maternal Consumption.

Nope. Nada. Zilch.

Here we are, at the end of NaNoWriMo, and I have successfully failed on my first try. If you’d like to fail as I have, let me give you some advice. It can be daunting, I know, but if you really want to fail, you can do it. I believe in you!

How to Fail At NaNoWriMo in Five Easy Steps:

  1. Is someone in your family terminally ill? This is a great time for their health to take a horrific downturn. Spending 5-12 hours a day at the hospital sucks the creativity right out of you. As an added bonus, ask your loved one’s physician to call you several times throughout the week and tell you to get to the hospital right away, the end is nigh. Of course, when you get there, nothing will happen. However, you will be afraid to leave again, just in case. If the doctor can spend some time talking to you about calling in Hospice, so much the better. This will feed your anxiety and send your stress level through the roof. Now you can utilize the time you would have spent writing to rearrange your parent’s (or other loved one’s) house to make space for the hospital bed. Things can get a little twisty at this point, but it helps if you get a call from out-of-state to let you know another family member is expected to die at any moment. The added worry of how to make it to that funeral while still remaining at your dying parent’s bedside will successfully stop you from ever sleeping, which of course, only solidifies your inability to write anything.
  2. See if you can’t start planning a funeral for your loved one ahead of time. Your laptop battery will likely die (the nature of the environment) once you get there, and anyway, you’ll feel conspicuous typing while you’re supposed to be picking out a casket. This is also a great time to be reminded of legal paperwork you need but have no idea where to find, and the panic of finding out even the most no-frills service you can plan will still cost upward  of six thousand dollars will make your mind completely blank. Bonus move: hunt beneath  couches and dog crates for any spare change. Count it up, and mentally calculate how much funeral money you still need once you subtract your newly acquired $3.26.
  3. If you haven’t already, start a new job. Make sure it is a job you love and can’t believe your luck in getting and that you really want to impress your new boss with your skills. Now make sure you are late for deadlines because of time spent at the hospital, and if you can pull off a couple of sixteen hour workdays to make up what you’ve been lacking, well friend, that’s just gravy. You can’t be blamed for not NaNo’ing when you are frantically trying to keep up with work. I mean, you’ve got to pay your mortgage and feed your kids, right?
  4. Get some teenagers. If you don’t own any personally, borrow some. These are helpful for a variety of reasons. Slamming doors, screaming, and refusing to help with chores when you’ve been at the hospital all day and then working half the night are just some of the bonus features of keeping teens in the house. If you can get at least one of them to develop a mysterious medical condition, such as passing out and having a possible seizure while at a music concert hours away, necessitating multiple doctor visits and extra medical tests, you’ve really got it made. Your mind will be so blank with worry and medical jargon you won’t even be able to remember what that story was going to be about, anyway. For additional anxiety power, see if the kid who is struggling can also have a complicated medical history, such as a rare chronic illness. This helps baffle both your mind and the physician’s. Writing? What writing? You won’t even be able to spell at this point, let alone attempt to think creatively.
  5. Stop doing any housework. Overflowing trash cans, stacks of dirty dishes, and mountains of laundry will only cement your status as a failure on every level. If you can manage to get every single glass dirty and then forget to pick up dish soap, you won’t even be able to pour yourself a cup of caffeine. Obviously, no caffeine, no writing, so there you go. Pro tip: Throw your back out. This makes everything you attempt to do nine thousand times more difficult, from taking a shower to treks through the hospital. You won’t be able to sit to write, as the pressure from back pain will make your legs numb.

 

And there you have it, kids. How to fail at NaNoWriMo in five easy steps. Of course, what worked for me may not work for you, and that’s just the nature of the creative beast. Sometimes you really have to play at life to see how best to mess up your own plans. If you truly take my advice to heart, you can get a jumpstart on how to fail at next year’s NaNo. Of course, there’s always the possibility that you may try to fail and still succeed, but keep that chin up, cupcake. If you really, really want to fail, you can do it. I believe in you!

P.S. If you like the way I write and want to dump some cash into the sorely lacking funeral services fund, please consider buying my books. I don’t do crowd funding, but we could really use some extra money right now. As my mother in law continues to fade away, the worry over how we will manage to pay for her final arrangements only gets more real. For those of you who continue to be supportive of my writing, thank you. You mean so much.

 

Book Reviews ARE Important!

A lovely post about the importance of book reviews.

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It has been about 10 months since I became involved in the Indie Author Community. My first involvement was to simply share posts for my daughter’s first published novel. She became more involved in the social media connections with other authors. There were several Facebook events that she participated in, her ‘parties’ as she called them. She invited me and the first couple I really was not interested in ‘attending.’ However, about the third I hung around looking over her shoulder and the fourth I actually participated. book memeThat was a really fun event, the dialog in the posts was fun, entertaining and enlightening in regard to Indie Authors in general. I found them to be a mutually supporting and congenial community. There wasn’t competition between authors. Instead I discovered they are a lot like the groups of quilters I’ve been a part of for some time. Encouraging, helpful, sharing and developing…

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The Weekend.

Let me tell you about my weekend.

Friday night was our 22nd wedding anniversary. We did not make enormous plans, due to various things, like my mother-in-law being ill and in the hospital, other family stuff, and the lack of much actual cash money to do anything with.

So we made plans to go out for dinner and a movie, because CRIMSON PEAK, amiright?

Before I go any further, let me recap the last two years of our anniversary celebrations:

Two years ago:

Went to a casino. Got a call from the eldest child. She’d gone outside and when she came running up the cement porch steps, she fell and gouged a big chunk out of her leg. She thought she needed stitches. I called my mom, who drove over and checked it out, thought, yeah, maybe it might need stitches, so we left early and came home. I took her to the clinic and while it looked rather ghastly, no stitches were needed.

Last year:

Tried an overnight at the casino again. Told the kids, STAY HOME. Multiple texts between us and the kids cell phones showed nothing amiss. We came home the next morning and found, courtesy of the cops who came over to visit, that the children in fact DID NOT stay home, had instead gone out for chili cheese fries, which in itself is not generally arrestable behavior. But my daughter had just started driving, and *scraped* another car as she was backing out of the restaurant parking lot. She panicked, and bolted. So, the friendly neighborhood policemen came to serve her with papers about her little misdemeanor. THAT WAS CUTE.

This year, we were only leaving for a few hours. Just long enough to devour some delightful steakhouse food and watch Tom Hiddleston be amazingly dapper. NOT EVEN LONG ENOUGH FOR KIDS TO GET INTO TROUBLE.

BUT WAIT! THERE’S MORE!

Dinner was good. Quiet. I lamented eating too much as I continued to stuff my face. It was wonderful. And the steakhouse makes its servers do line dancing when certain country songs come on the radio, which was delightful (if kind of awkward for us…where do you look? do you look at the servers when they dance? Is that considered gawking? Look up at the ceiling to prevent accidental gawking? Just keep shoveling food in face? What’s the proper etiquette there?) and even the dainty eighty-something-year-old woman seated across from us got up to do the Boot Scoot-N-Boogie down the aisle.

And we were thinking, you know, this is nice. Nice to finally have kids old enough to leave alone for a few hours without being constantly harassed via text or phone call about silly little things. All those years of near death experiences with toddlers and young kids has been worth it. Now we’ve gotten to that easy part. HAHAHAHAHA.

We got our tickets for the Hiddleston Show, I mean, um, Crimson Peak, and a couple of drinks and a giant box of Junior Mints that we were kind of giddy about not having to share with extra greedy little hands. And the movie was getting  good, lovely and creepy and filled with gorgeous velvety looking costumes, and that’s about when our phones started to go off.

I ignored mine. My husband tried, but his kept going off, over and over. Finally he checked it and texted, “Can’t talk right now.”

Response: I need you to call me right now.

HUGE SIGH.

Husband gets up, out of the theater and out to the hall to call our daughter. Dad, she says, I came out to buy pizza and locked my keys in the running car. I don’t know what to do.

Of course, the only extra set of car keys we own was sitting there on my lap, in my purse.

Adamantly, we refuse to leave the movie theater. They are adults. They will have to figure something out. We’ve got an entire box of  Junior Mints still to eat.

Our phones go off again.

Okay, they’ve figured out for my younger daughter’s boyfriend to come and get the keys from us. But he has to first find a ride, so it might be a while.

Text: Are they there yet?

Text: Should we go ahead and get the pizza?

Text: Are they there yet?

Text: Did they get the keys?

Text: Dad? Dad? Dad?

Text: Are you sure they aren’t there yet? Did you check?

Text: They’re on their way!

Text: They’ll be there in a minute!

Text: Are they there yet?

Text: Sorry we ruined your anniversary again.

Text: Did the guys come to get the keys yet?

Finally, the guys DID come to get the keys and we were left to eat our Junior Mints in peace.

Yesterday morning, my 15-year-old son knocked on my bedroom door, shouting something about blood.

I leapt up, okay, I don’t much leap anymore, I’m forty, I slowly uncurled my frozen body from the bed and inched my way straight, rolled off the side of my bed and began to stagger, while shouting, I’m coming! Hang on!

Turned out to be an unfortunate bagel incident. Rather than microwave a frozen bagel and then cut and toast it, he decided to try cutting the solidly frozen bagel with a steak knife and plunged the serrated blade into the webbing between his thumb and forefinger. The blood was gushing, he said, and it went on my bagel but I just put butter over it and ate it. So I didn’t waste the bagel.

Well, I don’t know about you, but that was my main worry.

Anyway, three stitches later and a long time spent trying to come up with an acceptable battle story to tell the guys (I suggested chupacabra attack), that particular wound seems to be doing okay.

But the highlight of the weekend was going to be watching The Walking Dead last night, because WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO GLENN and COULD IT BE POSSIBLE THAT HE REALLY IS A TIME LORD AND THE DUMPSTER IS A TARDIS, so I ran to the store last night to get some Moose Tracks ice cream, because HELLO, zombies and ice cream are what really makes a Sunday holy, and lo and behold.

Our television froze, for no apparent reason, for thirty solid minutes.

So we missed TWD.

That was my weekend.

Winter Wonderland of Books Giveaway!

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What are the best kinds of Christmas gifts?

The nice, rectangular sort that don’t even need a box! BOOKS!

Books are always the best gift. This giveaway is offering up print books, ebooks, Christmas gifts, and $200 PayPal cash as prizes!

Fifty authors have donated books, and ecopies of my novels Slither and Just Hold On are up for grabs.

It’s easy to enter and easy to share. Please do both!

https://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/2703c98f27/