Some of what I do in this blog is about leaving notes to myself, because I want to remember a recipe or an idea or an event.
Don’t have a blog? Continually misplace your diary? Wish Post-It notes were harder to lose? Want to give Future You a pep talk or notes on a brilliant idea or the memory of the most beautiful thing that happened to you today or a reminder of why you should stick with that challenging long-term goal?
Decide what you want to write, when to send the letter and whether to make it public or keep it private. I sent myself a little NaNoWriMo encouragement for next year. Not sure what to say? Check out some of these public letters.
Is this time travel? No, but it’s the closest thing we have at the moment so I’m making the most of it!
I like NaNoWriMo for a lot of reasons. It provides a useful set of constraints, a deadline, and a global group of fellow travelers with which to share the journey. It’s also completely bonkers, in a good way. I remember the sheer sense of glee when I realized that I could actually produce that many words in that short a time.
First question: Can I churn out 50,000 words in a month? Yes, yes I can. Go me.*
Next question, and one that most NaNo participants come up against as the first flush of success fades: Do those words mean anything? Are they useful?
In my case, and no surprise here, the first draft was not 100% terrible but certainly needed work. Writing to a tight deadline with a high word count left me, at least, with the sort of prose I don’t usually write in fiction.
Contractions? Nope, they only counted as one word, and why write one word when you can use two?
Blah blah blah descriptions that were far wordier than necessary? Absolutely.
Unnecessary plot detours? Oh yes. Have my character stop off at a roadside ice cream stand and discuss the relative merits of lemon lavender versus pomegranate basil flavors on the way to the dramatic shootout? Sure, if it helps me meet my word count target.
That part of NaNoWriMo wasn’t as helpful to me. This year, I’m rewriting the rules.
I know I can write a lot of words on demand. Check.
I know I can write every day. Check.
I don’t need more of that. What I want to practice now is finishing.
So this November I’m being a bit of a NaNo radical. Word count is not my focus. I’ve chosen one story idea and will work on it until it’s done. That’s it.**
* I bet you could do it too. Need a pep talk? Check out the NaNoWriMo archives.
** I may or may not also be participating in an imaginary mentorship program with Ilona Andrews. Because what good is imagination if it can’t take you where you want to go?
So I’ll spend at least part of my afternoon reading, drinking a smoked yaupon tea with whole milk and maple syrup, maybe have a treat, like one of the donuts we picked up yesterday. I’ll also check every half hour to see if we’ve managed to trap that last kitten, and generally take things slow.
…
Who am I kidding, of course I’ll have that donut!
Here’s hoping your day is good too.
“Trees that are slow to grow bear the best fruit.”
Between house stuff and criss-crossing the city for errands I haven’t had time to do anything special today. I did finish up a reread over breakfast, one I knew would satisfy, so I’m feeling pretty good. (I’m one of those people who enjoys rereads. It’s like ordering your favorite meal, knowing that you’ll love it.) The fact that this book is one in a long series is even better.
Isn’t it nice to have something to look forward to?
hangers on doorknobs so the cat isn’t trapped in a room
the scratching post in my office
the cat tree in the living room
the cardboard boxes strategically positioned in all the best kitty spots
the blanket on the cedar chest at the foot of the bed
the half-empty bottle of anti-inflammatories
the half-empty bag of food
to make sure we close the laundry room door
the chair by the best people-watching window
to worry if I drop a bit of the brownies I made for the vet and don’t immediately pick it up
to mute the TV any time a crying baby appears
the cat bed by the fire
It’s sad not to have the cat here. That’s not so great.
But also? We had a friend over for lunch for the first time since the pandemic began. It was a fantastic festival of vaccinated friendship and exactly what we needed today.
We brought her home a few days later. Tintin was not quite as happy about the company as we had hoped, but we were right about her energy and intelligence.
Neko was a catch-and-release hunter who never met a mourning dove she didn’t want to bring home to play, a fierce protector who growled at unexpected visitors, and while never a cuddler, she always wanted to be close.
Was she smart? Oh yes. She led us to problems like leaking basement pipes and trained us to open the patio door on command, to build cardboard palaces, and to carry her up and down the stairs when they got to be too much for her to manage.
The garden queen in her domain, 2013.
Last month we learned she had lung cancer, along with a rare complication called lung-digit syndrome that made it hard to walk as well as breathe. We consulted an oncologist, got new meds, gave her treats, and generally did what we could to keep her comfortable. We watched her energy and appetite wane. She lost weight. Stairs became a draining once-a-day event. Two days ago she stopped taking her meds.
* * *
For fifteen years we made her hunting blinds so comfortable she couldn’t be bothered to actually hunt, decorated rooms with blankets and fleece beds, and made sure we fed the birds year round so that there was always something entertaining out the windows. Whatever we could to make her life better.
Sometimes the only thing left is to make the end as painless as possible.
This free service distills all that obscure fine print into a list of the least favorable terms and a letter grade so that you at least have some idea what you’re signing onto.
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