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Works in Progress

I’ve long been shy about the way I actually go about doing things behind the scenes. Like a stage magician, I didn’t want people to see how I pulled things off. I didn’t want others to see my bank book or how I handle my money (actually, “mishandle” would be a more apt word). I was embarrassed for others to see how I go about writing poetry and prose. This hasn’t really helped me in personal development (and has gotten me into trouble when it comes to my finances), while my openness about my mental health and struggles with insecurity has gotten me a lot of thanks and encouragement. There’s clearly a lesson to be learned here.

Last month, I wrote about taking another stab at the novel I started (and then had to abandon) for this year’s NaNoWriMo. I was planning on doing this in January. It hit me yesterday that January was really, really close and I didn’t feel at all ready to start writing. I don’t mean I was feeling cold feet. I mean I didn’t feel like I had any kind of handle on the characters (or even had enough characters for the story I want to tell) or any kind of handle on the setting. I’m much more of a pantser than a plotter, so I’m very comfortable making up a story as I go. But I didn’t even have a solid base to start with the mad improvising of a novel.

Meanwhile, Austin Kleon, author of the seminal Steal Like an Artist, has been posting about his upcoming follow-up, Show Your Work, talking about not just producing art, but sharing your process with the world. His post “Something Small, Every Day” struck a chord with me, and I started thinking about what small pieces of writing I could post to my blog every day.

And then I tweeted yesterday about not feeling ready to start my novel while also not wanting to lose my momentum. A friend suggested I use January as a month to do prep and then start writing the novel in February. “Hey,” I said, “I could do that, writing character sketches, setting sketches, bits of dialogue, plot notes…and I could post something every day on my blog.” Something small, every day. Showing my work.

I find the idea exciting as hell. And terrifying as hell. Which tells me that it’s the right thing to do. The point of this year’s NaNoWriMo, which I didn’t accomplish, wasn’t starting and finishing a novel, it was to build the habit of writing every damn day. And I want 2014 to be about pushing my own boundaries more, getting into more adventures. This seems like a good way to start that.

Do I feel ready to share my prep, my notes, the inner workings of my head with the world? Fuck no! But I’m going to do it anyway.

*pops a Xanax*

*turns on jetpack*

*rockets off into the sky*

Sailing on Silver Seas

all my world is apple red
dripping amber
bleeding peach
painted by a brush of flame
candlelit
delirious

lightning flash!
thunder crash!
ocean waves wash over me!
illuminate the darkness
in lemon & tangerine
frosted fast
imperious

this drama never ends

between
the roses & the rushes
the fire & the smoke
a spangled grail
resplendent
ascendant
oceanic
with the taste of gold & opals

i am a raggedy doll
a puppet without strings
&
all my world is candy green
exploding amethyst
bursting sapphire

sailing on the silver seas
into candlelit nights

Tango

when you wear
your heart
on your sleeve
people
will punch you
in the arm

& yet

excuse me for a moment
i have
a bloody nose & a thumping pulse
making
sambas & lindy hops
in the public square
in the marketplace
in the opera house

because

i’m just
one
beat away
from
giving up
& yet
to give up
is to give them
what
they
want

& I will never
never
ever do that

The Need for Speed

After taking a break from NaNoWriMo for a couple of years, I decided I would throw myself into it with reckless abandon (the only kind of abandon I know how to do) this year. And I did. I had a handful of characters, a vague idea for a plot, a lot of ideas of overall structure, and lots of imagery floating around in my head. I launched into the story on November 1 and was loving the process of writing, as well as getting to know the NaNoWriMo community in Lawrence.

And then a life crisis involving my finances and my general inability to handle my money dropped into my lap, knocking the wind out of my NaNoWriMo momentum. I had to prioritize what I was dealing with and dropped out of NaNoWriMo. I wasn’t happy, but sometimes being an adult and dealing with your fuck-ups is the more important thing to do.

But I still have an interest in writing the story I started, and I want to keep writing. (It helps that I read an excerpt from my story to a group of strangers last night at my library’s NaNoWriMo Finale Party, only to be told by four or five people, “You have a very strong writing voice. Don’t stop!”) Waiting until November 2014 to take another stab at it seems stupid–who knows what my interest level in this story will be in a year’s time? It makes more sense to keep at it now. Should I take it slower, writing maybe 350-750 or so words a day along the lines of Chuck Wendig’s idea?

I’ve been pondering it and I’ve realized that with my ADHD, easily distracted brain, I usually lose steam and interest on long-term projects. Spending a year on the first draft of a novel pretty much guarantees I won’t finish it. I think the answer is to do my own novel writing month, give myself a 30-31 day deadline, and thrash out a rough draft as quickly as possible, then take time to revise it, revise it, and revise it some more.

January seems like a good month to do this, so…I guess I better crank my laptop up to 11 and get ready to rock out with my word count out. (That doesn’t rhyme, but nobody wants to think of me writing with my cock out. Even if I’m writing without pants.)

Confessions About Reading and Writing

Confession #1: When I read fiction a friend has written, I think, “Holy crap! Did they really write this? How did they do that?”

Confession #2: When I read fiction I’ve written, even the crappy stuff, I think, “Holy crap! Did I really write this? How did I do that?”

Confession #3: While fiction writing is clearly an art and a craft, I also think it’s powerful magic.

Confession #4: When I say writing is a kind of magic, I’m not speaking figuratively.

Hanabi

fill my mouth with glue
& shut my jaws
because i can’t go on like this
i can’t
i can’t
i can’t
it’s so absurd
i’m so unhinged
with my jetpack full of nitrous
& my cardigan on fire
billowing out
like a bursting rose
i just can’t stop
i can’t
i can’t
i can’t
i’m melting down
i’m blowing up
breathing stars & dappled sparks
all the time
i can’t go on
i must go on
a million voices all across the world
like meteors
inside my head
a candelabra
running off & running on
& on
& on
& on
with me bouncing off the walls
like a bicycle
all motorized
& inefficient
screwing up
starting over
relax
rewind
renew
all new
so, nu?
& so
i begin again
& again
& again
& again
with dragon eyes wide open
casting moonbeams
arrow-bright & monstrous
i cannot stop
i must not stop
i will not stop
forever
& ever
& ever
& ever