Come In Orson

It is now the end of my NaNoWriMo experiment. I did not write a novel. I did not write 50000 words. I did not pass Go. I did not collect $200. But I did write almost every day, and I tried to get at least 500 words in when I wrote. I came close enough to this goal to be happy, and to call this experiment a “win”.

As a bonus, I learned a lot about myself and about how I write.   I can tell you are all just dying to know, so in the words of the great Samuel Mo-Fo Jackson: “Hold on to your butts.”

I LIKE TO WRITE.

That seems less monumental now that I see it in print. I mean, “Duh”, right?  But I was getting to the point of dreading my time at the keyboard.  I wanted every line to be perfect and I wanted everyone to believe my writing was perfect and I wanted to fit my square-ass peg in a round-ass hole.  Over thinking and editing every line lead to slow and painful writing, and when I couldn’t keep up with what I thought my imagined pace should be, I wrote less and had less joy doing it.

NaNoWriMo, however, is all about writing without editing.  Just letting the words fly out onto the paper, all willy-nilly and higgley-piggley.  I about had a coronary the first few days.  But then I got into it.  It became fun.  Nothing made sense at first, but I didn’t care.  I was writing, and as I wrote, I found golden nuggets along the way.

My main golden nugget?  Writing is a whole lot more fun when I’m not being such an anal asshole to myself.

MY WRITING STYLE IS MESSY.

I write the same way I clean my house. I make a fantastic mess and then somehow, in between looking at old photos and reading long forgotten sales flyers, I organize it into place again. I also leave cupboard doors open while I am cooking. I don’t know if this is related, but it drives certain people in my life crazy. So if leaving cupboard doors open is a pet peeve of yours, feel free to rant about it in the comments. It won’t change anything, but I know it will make you feel better.

I am much happier and more productive when I make a big writing mess, and then go thru it all later and puzzle it into a single, flowing, beautiful, angelic document of pure bliss and perfection. It is absolutely just as time consuming as my old way of writing one sentence and then editing it to death, but I get to write a lot more and I am editing less. I believe speed and overall better writing will take place over time and if it doesn’t – who cares?  But it will. And you know why? Because of…

PRACTICE

Why am I so old before I am finally understanding the concept of practice and not perfection?

When I was a teenager, my friends and I were Steve Martin fanatics, to the point of purchasing banjos and taking banjo lessons. Serious groupie behavior. However, to play the banjo with the same skill as Steve Martin involves years of dedicated practice. YEARS. And I wanted perfection, and I wanted it yesterday. I still love Steve Martin, but I no longer own a banjo.  I sold it when I realized that I would never dedicate enough time and energy to being that good.  It was a desire, but it wasn’t a dream I was willing to fight that hard for.

Writing has been a similar experience for me – I believed I was supposed to be perfect right out of the gate. Except I wasn’t.  And my writing was all over the place.  And I kept switching my genre.  And writing became a chore.

But this WAS my dream.  And still is.  I refused to give up.  And still do.  I will be in Kristin Lamb’s 5% of 5% of 5%, even if it takes me until I’m 90.  Even if I suck.  Even if no other living human ever reads another word I write, although that would be terribly depressing.

Because my new attitude is practice.  I can’t get better if I’m not writing.  I can’t find open doors and opportunities if I am not actively learning and participating in the writing world.  And I now know that it will always be “practice” and not “perfection.  And I am so very okay with that.  Finally.

THE BLOG

Photography is a lot of fun, but it’s not my first love.  I have time to be either a really good photographer or a really good writer.  I have to pick one and commit (which also relates to genre).

So I am going to stop muddying the waters of my blog, and will be pulling away from photo challenges and instead focusing on humorous posts as they relate to day-to-day living. I will publish every two weeks. On a Monday. With a full elvish moon.  Carved into stone by Wolverine at high tide during the festival of Shirtless Jackman, while Steve Martin plays Foggy Mountain.

THE NOVEL.

I will write one. But not this year. This year, I will be focusing on practice, establishing permanent writing habits, doing a few workshops, reading books about writing – that sort of thing.  Oh yeah and maybe realize my dream of being the next Sue DeGroot.  Who is great, by the way.  In case you missed that.

Of course I will still be biking and hiking and rolling around in the dirt and picking wood ticks off the dogs and eating butt loads of cake, and then coming back here to tell you about it – humorously of course. But I think…I think it will finally all make sense.  At least to me.  You guys are probably screwed.

Writingly yours,

Sue

PS.  Thanksgiving was awesome and pie filled – it’s the one time of year pie is an acceptable alternative over cake.

PPS.  I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving and that you all gained as much weight as I did.  Because I’m considerate that way.

PSS.  I would like to thank all of you who have inspired me and encouraged me to keep writing.  Some of you know who you are.  Some of you have no idea.  I was going to name names, but chances are I will forget someone significant and then feelings will be hurt and wars will rage and all of mankind will cease to exist.  So instead, here are the letters of all the initials of all of you.  A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P, Q, R, S, T, U, V, W, X, Y, Z.  And the entire Klingon alphabet, just for good measure.

 

The Whiniest Israelite In All The Land

That would be me.  Well, that would be me if I was Jewish.  And if I lived during the Exodus (despite what my brother may say, I’m not that old).

This realization came to me recently while I was working on a work assignment. A really sucky work assignment.   A really sucky work assignment that was really really hard (really) and I only had one week to do it. It required hours of reading, research, analyzing, and goal setting and then writing a report to go with it.

Crack open that bottle of whine.

“I can’t play Candy Crush because I have to do reeeessseeaarchhh!”  *Throws self on floor*

“On my own tiiimmme!  At hoooommme!”  *Flail arms and legs while rolling on the floor*

“I don’t get thiiiisss!”  *dramatic adolescent foot stomping*

“This is toooo haaaarrd!”  *More arm flailing and foot stomping*

“I want to eat peanuts and read comics like all the other adults!”

“I’m just gonna quit my stupid job so I don’t have to do this.  But I need a paaaay cheeeeeeck!”  *sobs uncontrollably*

Lather.  Rinse.  Repeat.

After I finished the report, I texted a friend saying “It’s done! It’s finally done!” to which she replied, “Are you also done with your pity party?”.  Rat bastard friends.

Every morning, I try to read a chapter from the bible. You will notice I just called my friends “rat bastards” in the previous sentence, so I feel compelled to explain the bible reading for some reason. I obviously don’t fit the traditional “holy” definition, but thankfully, God has infinite patience (along with His wisdom, mercy, love and forgiveness) and hasn’t kicked me off the island yet. We talk a lot. I get a lot of eye rolls from Him, too.

So now I’m reading Exodus. The first part of Exodus is cool. It starts with the story of Moses – rescued as an infant from the waters of the Nile, growing up in the big house, being really stupid and killing an Egyptian, running away to the desert, getting married, finding a new life and then getting called back by God to rescue his people.

But once they get into the wilderness, and God starts handing down the law, things start to get dicey from a “making sense to Sue” standpoint.  Following the law is sort of like trying to read all of the “begats” (genealogies)- I’m reading the words but they don’t mean a whole lot.

Currently, I’m reading the instructions for building the mobile temple and I feel like I need a degree in rocket science to understand it.

Example:

7 “You shall also make curtains of goats’ hair, to be a tent over the tabernacle. You shall make eleven curtains. 8 The length of each curtain shall be thirty cubits, and the width of each curtain four cubits; and the eleven curtains shall all have the same measurements. 9 And you shall couple five curtains by themselves and six curtains by themselves, and you shall double over the sixth curtain at the forefront of the tent. 10 You shall make fifty loops on the edge of the curtain that is outermost in one set, and fifty loops on the edge of the curtain of the second set. 11 And you shall make fifty bronze clasps, put the clasps into the loops, and couple the tent together, that it may be one. 12 The remnant that remains of the curtains of the tent, the half curtain that remains, shall hang over the back of the tabernacle. 13 And a cubit on one side and a cubit on the other side, of what remains of the length of the curtains of the tent, shall hang over the sides of the tabernacle, on this side and on that side, to cover it. 14 “You shall also make a covering of ram skins dyed red for the tent, and a covering of badger skins above that. – Exodus 26:7-14

Greek, right? Or Hebrew? And can we just address the elephant in the room: Badger skins??  And this is just for the curtains!  Or something!  I’m not really sure!

“Figures The erection of the Tabernacle and the Sacred vessels” by illustrators of the 1728 Figures de la Bible, Gerard Hoet (1648–1733) and others, published by P. de Hondt in The Hague in 1728 – http://www.wcg.org/images/b2/_0303160501_038.jpg. Licensed under Public domain via Wikimedia Commons.

The entire time I’m reading it, I realized if I was an Israelite trying to decipher this, I was going to be wandering in the desert for a really, really, really, long time, because I would so be on the “Let’s build a golden calf – it sounds so much easier” band wagon.

What I wouldn’t have realized though, is that even though the rules were hard, they had a purpose.  God was trying to build a nation and to establish a way of life for a group of people who had just been slaves for hundreds of years.  They had little knowledge of government structure or how to keep a million people from starving or killing each other or how to even order their day.  Following his instruction stretched their minds, changing how they thought.  As it was, he had to provide manna and quail, water from rocks, and constant hand holding to get them to the foot of Mount Sinai (insert golden calf here).

So I felt a little better about the whole report thing. I mean, it was just a report. I didn’t have to build a temple or a whole freaking nation. Yay me!  Yay everyone else too, because the very idea of a “Sue Nation” is really rather frightening (except for the part where everyone gets to eat cake).  And just like the Israelites, researching and writing the report changed how I thought, brought in new ideas, and made me see my job from another perspective.

I also realized what a whiner I was over such trivial things like work reports when our world is faced with terrorism, war, racism, poverty, and illness.  Seriously – I should have been jumping up and down with joy over having to write that report. My rat bastard friend was right – I was having a raging pity party. And that made me wonder – how often do I complain about piddly crap like that? How ungrateful am I? How often am I whining about the glass half empty, when I could be rejoicing over the glass half full?  Or more importantly, the “cup runnething over” (Psalm 23)?

I plan to make that a daily reminder for myself: Pop a curly straw in that baby and rejoice in the glass half full. The very same RB friend who called me out on my pity party also had this remark for me – the “I get an idea and say “Okay, let’s do it”” and then she remarked “Now I didn’t say it was always a GOOD idea…” and we laughed over it because she knows me so very well. But this time I am on the money. This is a GREAT idea. For me anyway.

Love to you all.

May you have a blessed and grateful holiday season.

Sue

PS. Happy Thanksgiving!

PPS. Pie

PPSS. Mmmmmmm….pie.

Just for today…tomorrow it’s back to cake!!

I’m Back!

It’s been a while since I posted.  The last couple of months have been fraught with distractions, like eating Thanksgiving pies, Christmas cookies, Marge’s homemade angel food, Dave’s birthday lasagna, cheese cake, Christmas ham, Lucy’s yummy chocolate truffle cookies, and assorted dips, cheeses and crackers.  Not to mention half of the tin of homemade cookies my mom gives us every year that I assured her I would leave entirely to Dave (I cannot be trusted to promises made when it comes to baked goods).

Mmmmmm….cookies!

I have also been distracted by a game on my iPad, introduced to me by my nephew.  My adult nephew, who is 30 years old and expecting his first baby and whose care-free video game playing days will soon be coming to a crashing sleep-deprived halt.  Excuse my cruel chuckle as I experience the empty nest days of doing whatever the heck I want whenever the heck I want to, as long as it doesn’t break any laws, interfere with my job, breach national security, or send us spinning into bankruptcy.

The game in question is The Simpsons Tapped Out.  First, let me say that I don’t even watch The Simpsons.  I think, in the entire 500 years it’s been on the air, I may have watched 3 episodes.  I have paid enough attention to pop culture to know who Homer, Marge, Maggie, Bart and Lisa are, but that’s really about it.  I would never have looked for this game on my own, because I wouldn’t have cared enough to even think it might exist.

So, when David showed me the game on his iPhone, I thought it was in complete innocence, one gamer to another.  No.  He was seductively trying to suck me into the vortex so he could add another friend to his game and fulfill a quest.  I watched in fascination as he clicked on people and buildings, collecting cash and making Bart go to church and Ned Flanders take power walks.  My eyes dilated and my finger reached tentatively out towards his phone.  Then he said the magic words…”It’s free, Aunt Sue”.

This is not a game for those afflicted with OCD.  I became obsessed with rebuilding Springfield and fulfilling quests.  Breakfast, lunch and dinner were soon filled with the sounds of my finger spastically tapping on glass.  I started bringing my Ipad to work to sneak extra game play during the day, where I hunched over my iPad, tapping furiously while casting furtive glances over my shoulder.  I needed to buy more land and build more buildings!  I needed more cash!  More Halloween Treats!  More Christmas coins!  More friends!  I visited Tapped Out forums to find strangers to add to my ‘friend’ list and forced my friend’s 12 year old son to “add me”.  I almost went as far as buying fake donuts with real cash, just to be able to build the mad scientist volcanic lair.  Oh yeah.  I was hard core.

This baby cost 200 donuts.

Somewhere between Christmas and New Years, we ran out of the Christmas cookies that I was using to feed my gaming frenzy, and I realized I needed to get my life back.  The dogs were picking thru garbage and hanging out on the street corner, harassing the neighborhood collie (Hey you.  Yeah, you!  Look at you behind your fence, pansy boy!  Oh yeah?  I dare ya!  I triple-human dare ya!). The cat was cooking ‘nip in the basement and selling it to unsuspecting kittens.  The boys were mixing lights with darks in the laundry room while surviving on Hot Pockets and Tina’s frozen burritos.  I had 10,679 unread emails just from Kohl’s alone (Save 30%!  Free shipping!  Get Kohl’s Cash!), and was so far behind on Facebook that I didn’t recognize any of my friends.

“Pssst. Little kitten! I have some candy for you!”

So I quit.  Cold turkey.  I don’t recommend this to the faint of heart.  First came the shakes.  Then then the delirium.  I cried.  I giggled maniacally.  I sobbed in hysterics.  I beat on my Ipad, shouting “WHY?  WHY?” And then I crashed.  It was the worst ten minutes of my life.

And now I’m back to my barmy old self, ready to motivate the hell out of you  to work out, eat right and pray your socks off in 2013.  Are you ready?  Let’s ride!!