The last time I kept up this blog was for NaNo 2007, which was my first year doing this psychotic project. I also did it in 2008, but kept the blog elsewhere, in a more public space so my family could read about it. Unfortunately, I got some comments that were less than inspiring.
They weren't critical exactly, but my mother kept posting comments to the effect of, "These stories really make me wonder." Why must my stories make you wonder about me? A story can be a reflection of the author's own self, but doesn't have to be. When you read my writing, mother, I want you to read it for the story it tells, and not for any imagined pieces of psychological blackmail you can pick up on me.
So I've moved the NaNo blog back here.
I stayed up last night (well, technically this morning) to start writing at midnight. I realized at 11:57pm that I had been so caught up in my political research that I had completely forgotten to research heart transplants and reasons a person might need one. My MC's son dies early in the story of congestive heart failure when he is refused a transplant. So I did some quick research and started a few minutes after midnight. I made it to 1,303 before going to bed.
My boyfriend Craig and I were up early this morning to help my best friend Marie and her boyfriend Dan move into their new apartment. She had borrowed a rickety home-made trailer from her dad, which, when filled with furniture and a mattress, threatened to fall to pieces. We used rope to tie down the load, and then ratcheting straps to hold the trailer together. To get the straps to stay, they had to be wedged underneath the tail lights...which promptly started to come loose. I was watching those lights the entire way while I was following her, ready for the moment when they might suddenly shift and the entire trailer and all of its contents would disintegrate all over the highway.
Fortunately, that didn't happen (though I will say it would have been entertaining). The whole move went pretty smoothly, and I got more of a workout than I've gotten in a long while, carrying the heaviest two of the three cardboard boxes up the three flights of stairs myself. Well, I didn't actually carry them. I developed a complicated system of bracing, hip-checking, grabbing and nudging to navigate the staircases; and when I hit flat carpeted floor, I pushed on the top edge of the box and ran behind it, gathering momentum to try and minimize the friction with the carpet. It was, as I said, quite a workout.
We got home a little after 6:00pm, and I took a shower and sat down to write again. I made it to 1,700 (Precisely! My OCD is so pleased!) without much struggle, then wandered off to forum-hop. Next thing I need to do is get up and make soup.
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