“Beware the Jabberwock… the jaws that bite, the claws that catch… And hast thou slain the Jabberwock? Come to my arms, my beamish boy! Oh frabjous day! Callooh! Callay! He chortled in his joy.”
~ Lewis Carol
Last year at this time, I was a few weeks into a novel, astounded to be there. It was also the first time I started to read online, beyond the barrier of basic news and entertainment. That was when I first heard of NaNoWriMo, or National Novel Writing Month.
What a wonderful concept; a marathon for our mind. I cannot run twenty-six miles in a day, but I can write fifty-thousand words in a month.
Upon my finish, I don’t expect the printer to spit anything other than a super sloppy copy. I imagine my ratio will be about one good page for every nine sheets of (shhhh… don’t tell anyone I almost swore on Writer Dad). At that percentage, the month might leave behind a thirty page outline; one for each day of adventure.
I was gung-ho well before the email which sent me salutations, arriving just sixty seconds after sign up, with seven hundred words of zealous advice.
The cliff notes:
- We don’t have to know where we’re going, so long as we get up and go. Not every adventure needs a map, but without a hunger to see beyond the bend, our desires are fire waiting for ash.
- Editing is for December. November’s an experiment in pure output; a time to embrace our literary imperfections. It’s for slipping off our shoes and wiggling our toes. Perhaps so we can shove our socks inside the mouth of our inner nag.
- We must inform anyone who will listen about our undertaking. If they laugh, then we must repeat ourselves in a stronger voice.
- Don’t even think about thinking of quitting. Those who listened to our bold declarations will be expecting a finish.
- Week Two can be hard. Week Three is much better. Week Four will make you want to yodel.
So I’m going to start writing a novel on Saturday, and will continue each day, writing without a map, until I reach my destination on the final day of the month. I’ll silence my inner critic, declare my diligence, and see the story through until the very end. Then, I will yodel.
I’ve set up a page for us nano’s to gather. A tee-pee inside the village for us to pow-wow about our pages, endlessly whine, and fish for compliments. More than anything else, the month should be merry. A successful November doesn’t mean we write the great American novel. It means we enjoy our moments, and end with a draft to diddle in December.
Writer Dad
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Check out Namas Daisy: Would You Like Some Cheese to Go With That Whine?
At Least I Don’t Have Zits
Advice is what we ask for when we already know the answer but wish we didn’t.
~Erica Jong
Rita and I crossed words our first meeting. By the time Writer Dad closed shop for the day, we’d both had our say, along with immediate mutual respect. We’ve disagreed since, but even our strongest disputes conclude with a simple Namasté.
I believe there is no one in Blogopolis who wishes me success more than Rita. She is my biggest cheerleader. As I said earlier this week, the power of praise runs in both directions.
Rita is also my biggest critic.
A couple of weeks back, Rita took me aside. “Check yourself before you wreck yourself,” she said (though not in those words).
You know when you’re running in circles, juggling a dozen things with the speed of a bullet and the accuracy of a shotgun, then you bark your shin without even feeling it, only to find a medley of black and blue by the end of the day?
That’s what I was doing with comments; not just here, but everywhere. Rita’s words made me seriously reconsider my approach. I’ve been wanting to write about the subject for a while, but there’s no need. Rita’s words triggered tremendous talk on Vered’s blog yesterday, and she’s done a splendid job here.
Of course, I have plenty to add, but I’ll do it downstairs.
Enjoy:
“Star Wars,” High School and Blogging
I graduated from High School on a warm May evening in 1977. Though there were 1,400 seniors in my graduating class, ONLY 1,100 met the requirements to graduate that night. The ceremony itself didn’t matter…none of us planned on attending, as there was a new movie opening that night, and we all wanted to see the movie instead. The movie: “Star Wars.” The top 50 or 60 students in the class were ripped apart by our collectively acquainted parents: you may not care about being handed that diploma, but we do. Go to graduation, let us snap a few shots, and then you can see the movie. In agreement, that is how most of my friends and I graduated from High School – in haste.
That was 31 years ago. Certainly, much has happened in that time. One thing that I’ve realized as one daughter graduates college, and one enters, is that life is never the same after High School. I firmly held that belief until one month ago, while blogging. I am now back in High School. Though High School wasn’t too bad at 15 or 16, it has no place in my life as I near 50. Being a blogger is like being in High School.
How is blogging like being in High School again? I’m glad I asked.
1. “I called you yesterday, so it’s your turn to call me today.” Such is the same with commenting on blogs. I stopped commenting on most blogs three weeks ago, though I generally read 20 or so blogs a day, and 40 or more on my “Touch Base Tuesdays.” If I have something to add that hasn’t already been said, something to disagree with, or something I’d like clarified I leave a comment. I have stopped playing “I’ll comment for you if you comment for me.” I DO agree: blogging is a social medium. But my husband, children and “real-life” friends were being short-changed, because I was commenting on so many blogs on which I really had little to say. I have never taken an ad, never expected to make money off of blogging, and never paid attention to the “numbers.” If people wish to read what I have to say, come on over. If you care to leave a comment, I will try to give you a thoughtful response. But expecting “reciprocity” on leaving comments does NOT mean that I’m not reading your blog for the pure enjoyment of it.
2. “Tag, you’re it.” Meme’s can be fun to read at times, but most posts I write are extended meme’s. I have no “theme,” hence I write what is on my mind, and is a reflection of my thoughts. Sometimes I’m in a funny mood, sometimes I’m in a sad mood, and sometimes I just want to get across a point that I feel is important. I DON’T have a favorite post, and it doesn’t really matter what color my eyes are. This is why I generally “refuse” to be tagged. This may make me look old and curmudgeonly, but the only way NOT to play a game is to remove your piece from the board.
3. “I need to hang with the popular crowd.” No, I don’t. I want to “hang” with people who write well, offer interesting perspectives, open my eyes to new ideas or shake me up a bit. I made the mistake early on of hanging with one “popular crowd” – for the most part, a lovely crowd. But, as in High School, there are the Athletes, the Cheerleaders, the “Prom King and Queen,” the Academics – and the solitary person sitting at the lunch table who just moved to town and has nobody to tell about who they are, what their lives are like, what their dreams are. I’ve begun to put my lunch tray down at their tables more recently. Many of them are incredibly “cool,” and offer fresh perspectives.
4. “Here’s Your Summer Reading List.” Perhaps you remember that list of book after book on the same “topic” to be written about on the first day of the new school year. Now it’s bloggers with URL after URL on the same topic. Were I interested in that topic, I would Google it myself, and if I didn’t have a clue about the topic, I would do the same. I read enough blogs. I don’t need a blog that provides lists and lists of OTHER blogs – all of which address the same topic.
5. “Ooh, Teacher, call on me, call on me.” This is the one that gets me the most. Somebody will ask me a question – a GOOD question – and I will research it, try to provide an answer and do so in a way that the person listens to the answer, rather than hears it. But I’m learning, that just as in the classrooms I teach, many people ask questions to look particularly smart – or ignorant – but don’t even care to come back for the answers. That is why I only subscribe to blogs in my email now. I want to read other people’s questions and answers. And I have learned that many of those who ask questions of ME don’t even come back for the answer. I’m always happy – delighted – to answer questions. As a teacher I know that teaching to an empty classroom is a waste of time.
6. “We are a community.” It is true – we are, in many ways, a community. Like a High School class is a community. I bought into that game in blogging, and sold too much of myself for a piece of the action; for just as we are a community, we are also competitors. Bloggers want to be “A+” bloggers, and the way to do that is to insulate yourself so much that the same group of bloggers read and comment with the same group of bloggers. Read the names of the top 10 commenters on the blogs you visit; chances are, most are the same. Bloggers WANT to be seen with the “big blogs” so that, in many cases, the others on the “big blog” lists will come to them. Community or competition?
It may appear that I’m down on blogging. Nothing could be further from the truth. It is many (not all) BLOGGERS that I am down on – starting with myself. I love to write, but I sold out. And I lost too much of myself – and my life. I will continue to blog, but I will treat it as an adult endeavor, for I am an adult. Anybody who wishes to read my words is more than welcome to do so. If you wish to leave a comment, please do; but please don’t feel compelled to do so to “prove” that you were there. I already KNOW who was there, as do you all.
I’m sorry now that I missed most of my High School graduation, as it was a milestone. I ended up missing College graduation, because my grandmother died the day before. These days, I don’t want to miss more things that I will regret, like reading a book, spending time with friends and family and tending to my physical and mental health as I age. Plus I didn’t like “Star Wars” one bit.
Thanks, Rita. Well said.
Writer Dad
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