Why I Gave Up on NaNoWriMo

I talked the talk. I was all prepared for NaNoWriMo this year. Even carried out some research which is something I rarely do when writing. The writing process for me is usually a blank Word file and I get typing. Sometimes I have an idea in my head. Or I start with a line of dialogue. I type and type to see where it takes me. Then, in theory, I go back and edit it. Sadly I lack the ability to reach the editing process which is something I need to work on. When I was doing my evening classes last year I had to have a finished product for sessions. Take away that external deadline and I wander around, not doing much. It's the pattern I've followed since I started to write my own stories when I was 10. On an old Apple Mac for those interested. Like a really old Mac that had a screen about the size of your standard iPhone nowadays.

November has been a busy month for me. I started a new job that pays monies. My voluntary work began to pick up and required three days out of my week. I took over the admin for Write in for Writing's Sake.The old social life began to re-awaken. And there's that dirty bugger called Christmas lurking around the corner. Plus the mundane old stuff of making sure I have enough clean clothes to wear (which did become a slight problem last week) and that I was starting to eat properly and trying to ditch a lot of processed crap. Alas eating properly means spending more time cooking. For someone that can't really cook this poses a problem and simple things, like chopping an onion, takes twice as long as it really should.

The biggest problem is that I felt I didn't have enough time to read. I was clocking in 10 minutes at bedtime and cramming some words in during the commute. After waiting for ages, my library requests began pouring in. I wanted to read them rather do writing.

So I said

A good friend gave me the gentle push to stop writing. If I want to go off and do the research then go and do the research. My story is located in a particular time and place. Yet I was throwing in references that were all over the place. As an ex-History student it's important for me to get these things right (write?). If I decide to take part in NaNo again then I shall decide to write a silly story. One when it doesn't matter about time and place and setting. I think I'll have more fun that way.

Goodbye NaNo for another year. I am sure we will meet again.

November: The Month of Activity

November is shaping up to be a busy month. Having a new job means more time to socialise which is always welcome. Alas, Christmas is around the corner. Do you know that November is the last pre-Christmas pay for a lot of people? That scares me a little; especially as I am not terribly good at buying Christmas presents for people. Then there is always that conundrum of "What if someone buys me a present and I haven't get them one?"

I have other things on my mind. Once again I am attempting NaNoWriMo and taking it a bit slow this year. Last time I peaked too early (hit 15, 000 words in the first week then my enthusiasm tailed off after that). Also I had the distraction of Masters coursework which did not help matters. This year I have been writing for 30 minutes which usually sees me hit the bare minimum quota of 1666 words a day to cross the finish line. And I did plan a bit more than last year like outlines for each chapters and character cards to help me keep on track. Writing can be a solitary activity so it's nice to take advantage of the community that NaNo provides.

Him Indoors and I are working our way through Season One of Mad Men. My father has been raving about it but he automatically loves anything that features America in the 1950s and lots of smoking. Personally I have been surprised at how much I am enjoying watching each episode. Usually when I'm watching television I'm texting a friend or on the Interwebs. With Mad Men I am drinking in each piece of dialogue and being enraged at the same time (Him Indoors thought I was going to explode during the episode involving the girls and the lipstick testing). I hope someone out there is teaching the Sociology of Mad Men or at least using the episodes for sexuality and gender classes. Out there, in library land, someone has come up with the great idea of a Mad Men reading list. Unfortunately getting a hold of some books in my local area has proved rather difficult. I may have to wait until after Christmas before picking up cheap second hand copies (if I can get them).

Finally I have to wave the pom poms for my current blogger crush, Ms Alex Wolf. Not only is she attempting NaNo this month but she is also going vegan for a month AND blogging about it every day. Alex has been attempting 101 goals in 1001 days since 1st January 2009. She has been doing amazingly well and I am in awe of her progress. I'm finding her vegan blog to be of particular interest as I attempt to expand my limited cooking skills. My diet is primarily pescetarian but with a lack of regular fruit and vegetables. British supermarkets tend to be rather limited for fruit beyond the standard bananas and apples (at least in my experience). I live a bit closer to an more ethnic area now and the appears to be a wider range of fruit and vegetables available. When I have a bit of time I shall venture out and see what they have to offer. 

Time Lapse

Blimey I cannot believe I have not posted on this blog since the end of July. The Dreaded Dissertation took over my life in August. Last minute panic panic set in as the September deadline loomed. I finished the work the weekend before the due date. Some of my classmates were still writing their drafts on the day it was due. That scares me a little bit. Why give yourself that stress?

September was spent moping around a little. Said goodbyes to classmates returning home which was a little sad. Some people are making Glasgow their home for the time being which is good. It's nice to have chats with people about archives stuff. Some have paid jobs; lots of us have volunteer work. I have a new job working in a university library (which shall remain nameless on this blog). It's loosely connected to my Masters but does not involve archives. So I am volunteering at a local community archive. Again it will probably remain nameless on this blog, unless they give me a green light to name (but not shame) them. 

Lots of rubbish television has been consumed in the past couple of months. Television is cheap entertainment when you don't have much cash. A friend in a similar situation agreed with me. She said she does not like Friends but has started following it on E4 because it's something to do.

I developed a slight fear of reading after I finished my dissertation. Just in case I gleaned something from the books I read. Silly I know but the course I was on promoted the idea that you can find "evidence" in any resource. For one of my archives essays I quoted from Bridget Joneses' Diary and Possession. So I stayed away from fiction. Luckily my love of reading has returned and I am currently chomping my way through The Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follet. It's a massive tome of a novel and is about building a cathedral in 12th century England. My knowledge of that period is a little hazy but I'm enjoying the lives of the characters and the twists their lives take. The one constant is the cathedral and I'm intrigued to see how it ends.

This year I am taking part in NaNoWriMo for the second time. Last year I stupidly decided to take part in the month when I was on a placement with a daily 4 hour round trip. The work load at university began to pile on and I lost interest in sitting in front of my computer on a nightly basis. So I'm hoping to do better and at least hit the 50, 000 minimum word count.

Finally I have set up another blog to discuss my experiences in the archival sector. On both sides of the pond there has been a massive outcry about the lack of jobs available to newly qualified archivists. Anyway I decided to set up this blog to discuss my thoughts about the subject. It can be found here and I have called my blog Wannabe Political Archivist. This stems from my experience of archival work which has had a focus on working with collections that have political overtones. My belief that "the personal is the political" is a big reason that I enjoy working with archives.

WFWS: Flood

For some time I have been watching Mark's blog and his weekly contributions to this little idea: Write In For Writing's Sake. Each week people are given a single one to stimulate some writing. So far most examples I have seen on the site have been in the format of a short story. This week I have managed to finish a piece in time to be submitted. It’s not perfect (and a little clumsy if I’m honest) but at least it got me writing something.

I present Flood:

Cerys was having a Virgina Woolf moment. She wanted escapism of the higher order. Right now nothing was more appealing than filling her pockets with stones and wading into the river. It was December, the water would be cold. Would she drown before her heart stopped beating? Feel her lungs strain under the pressure and explode within her rib cage? Would her life flash before her eyes or would it just be a black nothingness?

Suicide was a toy she picked up now and again. Something to be fiddled with, played with and then put away again. It was not a serious option but she enjoyed playing through the scenes. As her body floated down the river she felt herself lose consciousness. No scenes from her life played across her dying brain. No memories of ironically happy birthdays or playing in hazy summer days with friends or hugs from her parents. No memories of a first kiss or first bra or first period. Nothing but a black void, an empty space where the electrodes inside her brain were slowly starting to snap in two. Like ropes snapping off a pirate shop she had seen on the television a long time ago.

Would anyone see her? The river ran past a local primary school so there's a high chance a child could spot her empty shell. Choosing the time of day would be vitally important. In her imagination she picked eleven o'clock in the morning. Enough daylight to feel the sun on her skin one last time (it would be a sunny day, the day she died). She sighed deeply as the sensations danced across her skin. The coldness of the water. The weight of the stones in her pockets. The warmth of the sun against exposed parts of her flesh.

That was another thought. What would she wear? Not a skirt; that would remove any dignity. Besides her body was likely to betray itself in her final moments and soil any undergarments. Wearing trousers would avoid this indignity in death. Black, she decided. Brighter colours would attract attention to her. Cerys didn't want to be saved. Besides black would mean she was already dressed for the funeral.

Now this was interesting. She was entering the stage that people called the 'out of body experience'. Cerys could see her long brown hair spreading out across the water. She always had been proud of her hair. At night she would lovingly brush it, using a soft bristle brush, a hundred times on each side. By now the river current had flipped her onto her back. Her small mouth was curled into an 'o' shape of surprise. As if death had come as a shock to her in her final moments. Cerys had lost consciousness by that point but her body had other plans. The combination of the heat and the coldness had had an effect on her muscles. Her eyes remained closed. Open eyes looked so unsightly in death. She was confident her body would be found before it become bloated and disfigured.

“What are you thinking about?”

Cerys was broken out of her daydream. She took a moment to realise where she was. For an instance she thought it had actually happened. Death: a welcome escape.

“Nothing.” She coughed. “I was sleeping.”

“Nice dream?” Her mother's attempt at a neutral tone was not very good.

“In a way.”

“What was it about?”

“A river.”

There was a pause. Her mother could stay and play the 'short answer game' or she could go. Unfortunately she was in a playful mood so decided to stay.

“Were you swimming?”

“I'm not sure. I might have been waving. Or drowning. I don't know.”

A beep from the unit at the side of the bed stopped the conversation. “Ah I knew why I came in. It's time to change over your catheter.” Cerys winced. Why couldn't her mother do this later? “And I'll give you a bed bath as well.” The treats came pouring in.

She closed her eyes as her mother fiddled around with the tubes. Ever since 'The Accident' Cerys had had no privacy. Even solitary acts, such as going for a piss or brushing her teeth, had to be carried out by another person. Sometimes as her mother brushed her teeth, Cerys felt she had no control. Since 'The Accident' she had become a prisoner in her own body. That is why suicide appealed to her. In her head she could die as many times as she wanted.

Sometimes she replayed 'The Accident' in her head. In her imagination, when she was falling from the tree, she heard the screams, the shouts, her mother shrieking “My baby! My baby!” This time, when she hit the ground, she wouldn't wake up. There would be no repeat of the ambulance ride when she overheard the paramedic say “She can't feel her legs.” There would be no repeat of a balding doctor using a pen to point at X-rays and had the cheek to say she was “a very lucky girl.” There would be no pain of seeing her childhood friends grow up without her, gradually fading away as the selfishness of puberty set in.

As her mother washed her body, Cerys was back in the river. The water cascading over her body, flooding her mouth, her nose, her ears.

“Flood,” she whispered.

“What was that?” Her mother stopped rubbing the sponge over Cerys's body.

“Nothing.”

“I thought you said something.”

“I didn't.”

One day Cerys's dream would come true. But not yet. Not yet.

Dissertation: The Fear

The past couple of weeks have been a bit mad. Him Indoors and I moved to a lovely new flat. As I type I can look out onto the nearby trainlines and can see the distant Campsies in the horizon. In many ways this new home is much more suited to our lives and I'm going to enjoy living here.

The dissertation fear has hit hence why I have added a word count tracker to the side of my blog. It saves me having to keep checking the word count on the university's website. And I like having a progress bar cheer-leading me on. Technically I still have seven weeks to hand in something resembling a dissertation. As I'm not working full time, seven weeks is adequate to finish off my research and churn out a couple of drafts.

For those interested, my dissertation is looking at the relationship between Web 2.0 tools and archives. Although the preservation of Web 2.0 output is important, my focus is more on archives that are using such tools. Unfortunately there doesn't appear to be a lot of literature from the archives sphere on this topic. So I have been wandering around the Sociology and (occasionally) the Computing Science sections of the library. The American Archivist, journal of the Society of American Archivists, has been a God send. My poor printer nearly died last week when I printed out all the articles I needed to read.

Today I have had great fun doing my literature review and slamming ideas of people I don't like. Huzzah!

In non-dissertation news, I joined a local writing group. Strangely I have found it more stimulating than my evening class I took last year. Perhaps because it is a smaller group (there's only going to be a maximum of 12 participants which makes a lot of sense). I've found myself writing more outside of 'Oh dear, I have a submissions due!' panic. Also I have started carrying a notebook around with me to scribble ideas down or overheard conversations on the bus. When moving house I found lots of pretty notebooks that will do just nicely. Last time I counted I had around 10 empty-of-content-notebooks. Time to fill them up methinks.

Next Stage

I cannot believe it is almost the end of June. This month has zipped by, probably because I have been busy. This month I have:

• Gone on holiday to Yorkshire for a week
• Avoided my dissertation
• Went to a local writer's group 
• Found a new flat to move into with Him Indoors
• Put in a fair bit of overtime at Work Wot Pays Me
• Started putting some work into my dissertation

Alas my reading record for June has not been very good. Only five books read so far and two WIPs. My WIPs are:

Both are quite big volumes. I started Wolf Hall when on holiday and have been slowly making my way through it. Its size makes it unsuitable for a commute/work breaktime read and I have been reading it in bed. I love books about the Tudor period and Mantel has done an excellent job of this one. She takes established historical figures, such as Wolsey and Cromwell, and makes them into living, breathing people. Only 170 pages in and I can see why she won the Booker Prize for this.

On another note, the booking for the Edinburgh Book Festival opened yesterday. Surprisingly I managed to get access to it at 10am and booked tickets to see the almighty Lionel Shriver. Funds this year mean financially I could only afford to attend one 'paid' event. Shriver won hands down. Cargo Publishing is hosting a free showcase of new Scottish writing one evening so I may venture through for that. Unfortunately the Book Festival is a tiny bit too close to the dissertation hand in date (31st August) so I might be limited for time to play.

This afternoon I'm going to watch the England v Germany match at a friend's house. Alas I am working early tomorrow so it will be a tame time (for me anyway). Him Indoors has volunteered to make a complex dinner (Leek and Cheese Souffles) so there might be time for some book reviews later on. Cannae wait.

Mailbox Monday

OK, a bit of a cheat because these were books awaiting on me when I got back from my holidays:

Dystopian fiction is working for me at the moment. Before I went on holiday Spook Country by William Gibson arrived at my local library via an ILL.

This one is a bit iffy. A couple of weekends ago I was watching Cabaret and I popped onto the IMDB boards. Cut a long story of wading through posts and I came across this book. It is the true story of Charlotte von Mahlsdorf who was born a boy in Germany. Alas this was post-Weimar and pre-Nazi Germany so having a queer identity was not a good idea. Charlotte is, apparently, one of the few openly gay individuals who survived the Nazis' cull of atypical individuals within their society (or boundaries of what being atypical was). von Mahlsdoft received a lot of criticism because her wealth came from helping clear out Jewish homes after they had been deported. Still, the book looks like an interesting read and the historian inside me will enjoy comparing the book with the facts.

And the final one, the latest Sookie Stackhouse adventure. I started it yesterday morning and finished it over my morning coffee. More characters are being introduced but Harris has a helpful knack of introducing or re-introducing characters with helpful tid bits such as "Claude loved guys. And he's a fairy. Literally. Not just because he's a homosexual." All fun and giggles.