cluttering the net since 2001

nov 10th word count

Sunday, Nov. 10, 2002

I am still ahead of schedule but not as far as I wanted to be after this weekend. I skipped over 3 days not writing at all. Doubting my own talent, beating myself up and letting other people determine for me what I wanted to do as a writer. Instead of stopping, I pushed on this weekend. I just sat and wrote and took my screenwriter friends advice.

I have learned that writing a novel, even if inspired by nano wrimo, that you shouldn’t tell anyone that you are doing it. It’s much like a diet, you’ll have more success if you are self motivated, self accountable, and doing it for yourself.

If this novel doesn’t turn out the way I want, then I will write another one. One things for sure, I am finally writing fiction. And still on track after rewriting a large portion of quite a few scenes. And now I have a plot twist that’s causing me to want to move forward with a vengeance.

Everything feels pretty kewl right now. I’m also midway through reading Choke by Chuck Palahniuk and I snagged a copy of Aimee Mann’s CD Bachelor No.2 used for $4! So I’m being influenced by these people while picking away at this big writers block I had last week. Its strange but I’ve been listening to Paul and Ryan Adams and all the stuff I like the most in the background, and I have found that when I have a fight scene to write I need to play AC/DC and the likes of Metallica on my pc to find the anger. I am learning my writing style and I’m not going to stop writing fiction when nano is over. And I don’t think 50,000 words constitute a novel. I want something with guts and rawness and I am done being afraid.

A new book, a new CD and some cash in my pocket, in my bank account and a clear path after an agonizing weekend of deep thought. I have a gingerbread latte made with skim milk and no sugar and I’m feeling pretty at ease.


“Mom, you know that tattoo you have is going to get wrinkles when you get old like grandma, don’t you?”, chirped Bucky while coloring a picture on his leg intending it to be a pretend tattoo of his very own.

“Oh man, I hope not!” I replied in mock horror.

“I can just wash mine off before it gets all cracked up.” He said thoughtfully.

“Next time I’ll get a Crayola tattoo!” I laughingly stated, while trying to forget that I’ll get old.

“Yeah, like the washable kind, then you can wash it off before you get wrinkles” he said as he broke down in giggles and rolled around on the floor holding his stomach.

“I’d rather have washable wrinkles.” I said with thought.

“Grammy takes a bath and hers don’t go away!” he remarked and then laughed harder, still rolling on the floor.

9:34 p.m. ::
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