Prepping for NaNoWriMo

One of my four dragon eggs.

Unlike most NaNo participants, preparing for November has far less to do with outlines or creating characters than it does with filling the Kitten Jar with challenges, gathering RSVPs, sorting prizes and figuring out just when the hell I'm going to actually find time to write.

October is filled with "Things I put myself through" also known as Donning the Superwoman Cape. Things like:

Preparing of 312 Christmas craft kids for my daughters elementary school (because that certainly wasn't getting done in November). I am only doing half the school this year, so hey, that less thing is still working.

Filling goody bags, sorting prizes for all our big regional events and weekly write-ins, and finally getting around to filling out and dropping off the one donation form I pledged myself to.

Then there is the matter of spending some time with crafty-daughter who declared we needed to make dragon eggs. I'd forgotten how much of a pain in the cheeks it is to blow out eggs. So yes, we made dragon eggs and then the eggs needed nests, which meant a trip to the craft store because I was out of black rocks (and we needed black rocks, I guess). Hopefully this fills my mom and daughter craft quota for the upcoming month.

Running my kids to and fro with all their fall school activities. Taxi anyone?

Getting a couple of my stories that had dropped out of submisions back in into the juggling mix, the house decorated for Halloween and cleaned enough to tide me over for the month ahead with only a little general maintance.

And, of course, working, but thats a perpetual challenge these days.

I suppose I should read over the couple pages of the short that I'm intending on turning into this year's NaNoNovel, huh? Thankfully I still have a few days to squeeze that in.

Nearing NaNoWriMo

October hit with the realization that November's noveling adventure is only 31 days away. I'd flee in terror except between the stress of work, a lingering cold and a two day migraine, well, I just don't have that kind of energy. Instead I'm sitting on the couch declaring that the Broken Race prequel is my chosen project and if that goes to hell at some point in the month, I'll fall back to pounding out short stories or filling in one of the missing middles of a past NaNo novel. Assuming there will be time to write, there's no lack for projects that could benefit from 50,000 words or any portion thereof.

Our regional forum is up and buzzing with energy. Details are being worked out for various events. Write-ins are filling our calendar. Raffles prizes are overflowing. So far, all is well in NaNoLand.

Dependablity

From my vacation to the Badlands: Even rock can show love.

Today is an odd day for me. My last grandparent has died, which leaves me a generation closer to old age and death. Only a few weeks from her 90th birthday, my Grandmother finally left this world. I say finally, because we all knew it was coming soon, even if she didn't. She didn't know much these last few years, but it didn't slow her down until the very end.

Dear Grandma wasn't the grandparent I begged to spend a week during the summer with every year. She didn't play, bake me cookies, or inspire me toward gardening or creative pursuits. She made just enough food for everyone present and not a morsel more. Though she had money, she didn't waste a penny on anything remotely frivolous. She greeted my crazy hair colors and clothing choices with nothing more than a slight eye roll and an exasperated 'oh heh'. That what all she had to say about most anything she didn't agree with. Oh heh.

She certainly wasn't the Grandma I considered fun. But she was always there. Dependable. When it came to taking me out shopping for birthdays she was there. She was always happy to provide a family Sunday dinner once or twice a month. And I always got a hug when I arrived and one when I left.

Most amazingly, though, as the years went by, the Grandmother than I'd always consider the kind, sweet, fun one grew sulky, angry and highly opinionated. Dependable Grandma, well, she stayed herself - smiling, hugging, and grateful for every visit even when she no longer had any idea who I was.

While I wouldn't mind being considered fun should I be fortunate enough to live into old age, what I truly hope to be is dependable.

Still alive and kicking

From my vacation: The Badlands 

Perhaps alive is exaggerating my zombie-like state. I'm mostly kicking with a little screaming now and then. Thanks to work, writing has ground to a standstill but ideas are percolating so at least progress is happening even if the words aren't being written down. Short stories are still fluttering about in submissions. Novels are getting sparkly new query letters. A synopsis for A Broken Race is in the percolator.

And NaNo prep, yes, that's all going on in the background too. Mostly the prep for the regional raffles and activities at this point, but story ideas are vying for attention as well. I'd like to get back into the true spirit of things with a fresh new novel dripping from my fingertips, but the prequel to A Broken Race is offering me chocolates. A few other past discarded projects are also sending me notes expressing their affection. I'm waiting for that one droolworthy idea that knocks me off my feet. Or expensive chocolates.

All work and no writing makes writers twitchy

Apologies to my usual blog haunts. I have not had the freetime to hang out in my beloved internet. Blame work. I do.

While I love the ability to pay bills, the lack of writing time is really getting on my nerves. I pity the character who gets their wish to have me work on their story next. I have a good deal of pent up aggression to vent into words. People might get hurt. No, I'm kidding, they'll certainly get hurt. Hell, they'll probably get killed.

I could really use a good fight scene right now. In the mood I'm in, I wouldn't place bets on which side would win.

Mermaids might suddenly find the ocean dry pumped for a good scrubbing.

Samarah, you might find the middle is one bloody fight after another with no sex until the end, which as I recall, there wasn't much sex at the end. Your patience is hightly recommended.

Jackson, your story includes a lot of blood and gore. I don't think I could make that more depressing, bloody or gory than it already is, but hey, do you really want to challenge me on that?

Bruce, my dear knight, your story already doesn't end well for you, suffice it to say, the middle will likely not be any more pleasant. What with the excess body hair, the flock of godly sheep, and your empty-headed twit of a girlfriend...say what if she talked a lot, really loudly, until she drove you all into madness? I'm open to changing up the ending. What do you say?

Maribella, I'd recommend not making any demands right now. I'm much more in the mindset of your uncle at the moment.
You don't want me writing about babies right now, Marion. I guarantee it would be some deformed, demon-possessed creature dead set on bringing about the end of your world, and while it wouldn't provide much resolution, I'm inclined to let the baby win.

Which brings me to Vayen and the gang. Really? Do I need to even go there? You know what this mood is like first hand.

Deep cleansing breaths and all that. Ahem. Yeah.