NaNoWriMo Check In

Now that it is almost the middle of the month, it's time for a check-in. For the uninitiated, NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writing Month. Though I didn't sign on for the full experience (a new 50,000 word novel written during November; 1667 words a day), I made a goal with my peeps from the Super-Secret Society of Quirk and Quill to finish my draft of Into the Trees by Thanksgiving, or at the very least, by the end of the month.

I began with 30,040 words, a hazy outline, and a slight addiction to Facebook. I now have close to 38,000 words (in addition to having shelved about 3,000 words in the course of revising). My outline has expanded significantly (um, like I have a middle now), and I have had several plot epiphanies. And I have turned my addictions to Lindt's Chili Dark Chocolate Bars. They're more productive.

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Hot Chocolate with Whipped Cream

Each morning, you stand by the window watching your boys until they're on the bus or picked up. You watch them leave your circle of safety and hope for the best. You can't know what that day will bring. Nothing, maybe. Or maybe a bomb threat. Maybe a math test. Maybe a lockdown drill. Or maybe a real lockdown. But on this day, there is something different. A rally. A walk-out. A demonstration. Your oldest son asked if you'd call to have him dismissed and bring him downtown to attend the demonstration. You want your voice to be heard, and even more, you want your son's voice to be heard, so you call the school, you pick him up, you drive downtown. You don't know what to expect, but the reality makes you weepy. A crowd of teenagers, many carrying hand-drawn signs stand gathered in front of the church, chanting. Adults congregate around the edges. A band plays, keeping time for the chants. Horns honk as their drivers show support. One man in a truck wags his fi...

The Greening

Sadness spreads like a sower scattering seeds. The seeds find fertile ground in her and land there, burrowing into her skin, into the deep down places where they sprout, nurtured unwittingly by blood and bone. Shoots spread forth growing both inward and outward, and she wonders if she will ever be able to root them all out. It is like pulling at a dandelion only to have stem detach from root and downy fluff fly off, enabling dozens more dandelions to take root. There is no cause for the sadness; it just is, like cold in winter, like leaves in fall, like rain in April. It sits there, within her, growing bigger each day, a pregnancy gone horribly wrong, and she feels the shame of it. But a breeze blows by, bringing different seeds, renegade seeds, hopeful seeds. They sprout in the midst of all the sadness; they choke it out. When she looks out the window today, she realizes that the world around her is greening. She decides that she will too. She will choose joy.

Days 23-29

I’m eating Doritos right at this very minute because last week, my Austrian friend took me shopping. We went to a place called The Snack Shop that sells all kinds of American junk food. I succumbed, but I hadn’t broken into them until today, probably because there’s so much amazing regular food that who needs junk food? So, yes, I ate Doritos today, but I also listened to parts of Mozart’s The Magic Flute. That must cancel out the Doritos, right? Better yet, I got a library card! Which has absolutely nothing to do with either Doritos or Mozart, but it makes me happy. Anyway, since the last time I wrote, I have attended a Back to School Night and met all the teachers and got all the forms and signed all the paperwork. I took the gingerbread boy to Prague last weekend solo because the Gingerbread Man was presenting at a conference in New York. I navigated Prague—there, around, and back. Are you impressed? I am. Especially because my data didn’t work while we were there. A...

Ginger Snapped

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