Write - 31 Things Day 23

The first book I wrote was in Mr. Johnson’s fifth-grade class. We made books for our parents for Christmas, bound them and illustrated them, and I thought it was the best surprise ever. My parents did, too, since that book was put out with the other books on the book shelf near the family room for many years.

I think this may be where my love of writing started. Seeing that story come alive and turn into something tangible that I could hold in my hands is something I’ll never forget.

I was never afraid of a writing assignment in school, although I might groan, knowing how much work would go into it. But once I got started it was hard to stop. In college, I remember loving test day. You were given a blue book with about eight pages of lined ruled paper and a question or problem and told to write. And I wrote. I would write for one, two, three hours straight (however long the class was) without stopping, my hand cramping up but my mind feeling strangely light and free.

Throughout the years I’ve turned to writing on and off. At times I’ve kept a journal. (I am not keeping a journal at the moment, but thinking about it.) At other times I’ve turned to poetry (classes with Deborah Keenan and meeting Elizabeth Alexander during our MALS program were some highlights that really turned me towards poetry). At other times I have written short stories. (I won first prize for a short story my senior year at Hamline. The prize was $33.) At other times I’ve focused more on real, academic writing (the Academic books Andrés and I wrote together - grammar books still being used at EPN today). And still at other times the thought of writing has either terrified me or seemed tedious and superfluous.

What I love about writing isn’t just the sense of accomplishment and satisfaction it gives me. I love the feeling of moving things around, cutting and pasting, finding the perfect home for a sentence or paragraph. Experimenting with style and voice. I don’t usually like what I’ve written when I go back and reread, but the act of writing really fulfills me.

Writing, it seems, has always been a part of my life. Depending on where I am at, it might scare me, or thrill me, or make me feel inadequate, or help me solve a problem, or just help me get the negativity out of my system. It might even be glaringly absent, like it has been for the last couple of years. But it’s there, waiting for when I’m ready to find it.

This is what it is all about

I am flattered and excited. Recently I put up an article on Suite 101 about making Chicha de Avena. Now, most of you are probably wondering - what is chicha de avena? It's a fruity oatmeal drink, something quite popular here in Ecuador, and something I love myself. But if asked if it was something people would be looking for on the web, I wouldn't have really thought so. I myself, of course, have tried to find something, but never have.
Well, as the most wonderful creative writing teacher and one of the nicest, best people I know, Deborah Keenan once told me that, if you can't find it, then your obligation is to write it. (I've butchered what she said, of course. My writing is still rusty, and having two small boys at home isn't helping. But that was the essence.) Of course I believed her, but I'd never had the opportunity to experience it in action. Well, wasn't it my pleasant surprise to find Francesca, who, on her vegan blog, was very happy to (finally) find a chicha de avena recipe (with pineapple! my personal favorite, too) on the web. And wasn't I happy to see Deborah's advice become reality. So, watch out world, here I come, writing all the things I've wanted to read myself but have never been able to find! (Uh-oh, head for the hills!)

you gotta laugh

Every week I get a message in my inbox about the progress of my nanowrimo. So far I've been able to ignore it with thoughts of, "yes, I'll get around to it" and "sure, I still have time." But this one, labeled Week Four, really hurt, because I haven't written a word since Week One. [Gulp]

So, without further ado, I am off to write 1000 words or so. I would have liked to get up into the 20k, but of course then I wouldn't be the procrastinating writer wannabe that I already am. At least I got more done than any other year. Of course I won't tell you what that number is. Not until I get over my guilt, at least...

Nanowrimo

Do you want to hear something funny? I joined Nanowrimo this year. It isn't the first time. Two years ago I joined, also. What's actually funny is:
a) I think that I have the time to write 50,000 words
b) repeat the above
c) I have already passed my total word count for 2004.

I am at 756. I have gotten a late start. Actually, these 700+ words were written on the first day, but from there I haven't gotten back to it, due to our trip to Ambato (pictures to be posted soon). I decided, however, that I am doing OK. So, maybe I won't finish, but the point is that I got SOME writing done. And it feels good to be a part of the frantic pattering of keyboards around the world.

Even if mine is pattering considerably less than the rest.

Guilt in the Form of a Blog

We all have guilty pleasures - something that we know we shouldn’t be doing but that gives us so much satisfaction we do it anyways. One of my guilty pleasures has been blogging. What could be more of a waste of time? I sit at work, and instead of getting semi-important things done (I am not so bad that I ignore the important stuff, at least not yet) I read blogs, search for new blogs, and, if the writing bug has bit, write on my own blogs (yes, plural!). If it isn’t in the urgent box, it probably won’t get done, since Kari is blogging.

Of course Andres thinks I’m crazy. I don’t really care. Other people may think I’m a geek or weird. Doesn’t bother me. I know there are better things to do with my time, but I can drown out that nagging voice at the back of my head. Truth be told, I like blogging. I love blogging. Something I never thought I’d say.

It is a wee bit like having a novel at your fingertips. Maybe if I had access to libraries, Amazon.com (without the horrendous shipping fees, of course), b&n, etc., I would be less inclined to spend my time reading bits and blurbs on the Internet. But since I don’t have this, blogging keeps me updated, makes me feel like I am not so far away, keeps me in the thick of things, so to speak. When I blog and read blogs, I don’t feel so bad about being here. I don’t feel so isolated. And that is an amazing feeling.

Still, with blogging comes many forms of guilt. Aside from just being a guilty pleasure, the onus it brings is at times unbearable. I use the blog to keep my family up to date on me, my kids, my life. But when I don’t blog I feel guilty. I am letting them down. I am reading about the lives of other people, people I don’t even know (I hear Andres’s voice again... 'crazy crazy crazy') instead of keeping my family on top of things. For example, my sister asks for my blog address so she has something to read at work. Since then I may have written what? A whole paragraph?

Shame Shame Shame.

So, if you feel that I am on a blogging frenzy this weekend, it is because I am. I’m making up for lost time. I promise to try to be better.

Long Time, No Write

I've been largely absent this month because of the teacher training course I've been involved in. One of our self-proclaimed "good" TEFL tutors decided to skip out on the program, without warning us at all, and I had to pick up most of her hours. I've been working long, long shifts - up to 14 hours a day, but it is extra income and well paid, and we finish this Friday so it was relatively short-term. Today is another long day, one in which I'll probably get home after the kids have fallen asleep. That is a depressing thought...

Did I Say Procrastinate?

I didn't, but that's what has happened. I said I was consumed with the drive to write, that I could think of nothing else, but then beautiful baby boy comes along and writing has been put on the back burner. Although, I am here, right? Which means that the writing monster is starting to stir...