I started my first day of Camp NaNoWriMo at just under 1400 words. Not too shabby for someone who just registered several hours ago.
Don’t ask me what the novel is about. I don’t know.
When I read something that was poorly written, I can’t finish it. I close the book or magazine and pop it onto the bookshelf. Maybe it will find its way to Goodwill or to a second-hand bookstore. Either way, it wasn’t enough.
As a reader, I know what is good writing. Characters that intrigue me. Plots that keep me from falling asleep. Words that capture every fiber of my being that I realize that I haven’t moved for HOURS.
As a writer, I am terrified. Sometimes I look back at what I have written and I think, “Oh geez, and then what would have KATNISS done?” Or “That’s nice. Didn’t SOOKIE [or some other character everyone has read about] do that too?” Do I not have one single originial thought in my head?
Even now the 1400 words may be an amalgum of everything I’ve read in the past five years. I’m too afraid to look back.
Tonight I had a half a dozen writing sprees in between putting the kids to bed, feeding the cats, and putting the dogs in the garage. Life still goes on.
But I am not looking back. Not this month.
Do my blog posts count towards my word count? No? Oh, okay.
Soyrizo (yes, chorizo made with soy) and eggs, topped with Tapatio hot sauce, salsa, and sour cream. Huh? Eating healthier? When did this happen?
Some sort of black bean and corn salad thing I threw together. Two cans of black beans, rinsed then drained. A can of corn, drained. Cilantro, onions, tomatoes, salt, pepper. Olive oil and lemon juice. Another healthy meal? What? WHY?