Should we believe in NaNoWriMo?

AkddJust finished reading this article on one of my frequented news sites by one of their book reviewers on why one shouldn't participate in National Novel Writing Month (which, this year, I didn't). Somehow I missed this when it was first published in November, but it's still reasonably relevant, so what the hey.

I speak from personal experience. I have never "won" NaNoWriMo (i.e. successfully submitted 50,000 words before December 1), but each time I have participated, the raw outpouring of words, sentences, paragraphs it generated from me have set the right (write? Ha.) gears a-churnin', and when I closed the MS Word document full of the rambling I was hammering out for the contest, I set upon some other work that had bloomed within me, and produced some damn fine lines, some of which I'm still proud of and want to continue working with. These were dislodged, possibly generated, by the flood of NaNoWriMo forced through my otherwise (at least at the time) barren mind. The same is not true for all writers; some are just frustrated, bored, or exhausted by the processes of NaNoWriMo. In which case, it's not your thing, fine. But I do encourage most of my friend who write to try it.

In the article, Laura Miller paints the competition as solely for writers, which, okay, is mostly true. But there is always a pretty generous handful of people who participate who aren't. Maybe they've always dreamed of (or at least vaguely thought about) writing something, or maybe they just needed a quantifiable goal. Either way, a lot of them reach the end, which is more than I can say for myself. Then, ta-da, they end up with a goal achieved, and some sort of product at the end. And sometimes we all need to have that. So what's the harm in encouraging it? Yes, perhaps some participants think a little too highly of their final submission, and/or underestimate the necessity of the long, hard road of revision. That still doesn't detract from the benefit they and others might get from participating. Live and let live?

Instead of participating in NaNoWriMo, she argues, people should be reading-- that the proportion of readers to writers is disgraceful. Which, of course, is true. Dammit, people do need to read more.I need to read more, and I chew through more books in a year than most people I know. But she sees NaNoWriMo, and similar practices of do-it-yourself noveling as harmful to the culture of reading. She writes of seeing a NaNoWriMo event in a bookstore:

It was yet another depressing sign that the cultural spaces once dedicated to the selfless art of reading are being taken over by the narcissistic commerce of writing.

I say "commerce" because far more money can be made out of people who want to write novels than out of people who want to read them. And an astonishing number of individuals who want to do the former will confess to never doing the latter. "People would come up to me at parties," author Ann Bauer recently told me, "and say, 'I've been thinking of writing a book. Tell me what you think of this ...' And I'd (eventually) divert the conversation by asking what they read ... Now, the 'What do you read?' question is inevitably answered, 'Oh, I don't have time to read. I'm just concentrating on my writing.'"

Alright. I'll admit that that response is just as offensive to me. But I'm willing to bet a whole lot that these people were unbearably pretentious and arrogant anyway, and that this condition didn't suddenly come about just when they affected to be "writers". Reading and writing are not mutually exclusive occupations; just the opposite. Writers should be the most voracious readers of all. I'm sure Miller is aware of this widely held belief. And yes, arrogant fledgling writers who overrate their own ability are incredibly annoying, but that doesn't mean that this yearly event which allows people to have fun and eke out a creation is useless/harmful.

If National Novel Writing Month isn't your bag, don't participate in it. Don't read any of the resulting works. When people gush about the experience, politely nod and smile and change the subject, just as you do when they spout on about their new baby, or World of Warcraft. Miller suggests that people participate in reading challenges instead of writing challenges. (Incidentally, she posted an article on reading challenges today, I suggest checking out the links.) I intend to take at least one of those challenges this year. I will also be participating in NaNoWriMo.

Cake is doubly delicious when you have it and eat it too. I imagine books are as well. (See, if you take the cake metaphor, and writing is... oh, forget it.)

Ring Out, Ring In

So this is the new year?

Well, I don't feel any different.

Yes, using song lyrics to express sentiment on blogs/online journals/whatever might be slightly overdone, but, hey, it's true. And completely unsurprising, given (a) the nature of 2010 and (b) it's true every damn year. First of all, let me address (b): It's true for pretty much everybody-- you can throw exactly the right party, kiss the perfect person, wear the perfect dress, play the perfect song, but if you're expecting a magical tabula rasaness to descend upon you at the stroke of midnight, I'm afraid you will be sorely disappointed. Then again, I suppose it's all a matter of psychology, and you may well get washed away by your wave of optimistic ecstasy. Please also note that one night does not a year meake, no matter how auspicious or inauspicious it is as a beginning.

Now, (a): 2010 was not a year of dramatic changes, of breathtaking wonders (excepting Boulder), of either resolutions or revolutions. Some things happened, I suppose (as things tend to do), but it was only the grumblings of the Earth creeping along in its course. Mostly it was a year of...let's say furthuring. Growing and expanding what is already there, gaining a firmer hold on life, developing and rounding out myself and my life. Slow, boring stuff like that. I don't expect 2011 to be much different, but maybe the slop of progress could be a bit steeper?

New Year's Resolution, 2011: Make my life more beautiful.

Christmas comes but once a year, thank the gods.

Made it though another Christmas-- barely.

All in all, not such a horrible experience, but one of the most exhausting ones of the year by far. Between me and the boyfriend, we have four households, sometimes more, to hit up in one or two days. Christmas day, we started at 9 AM and did breakfast, lunch, and dinner with three different families, and presents at each one. I had a lurking head cold, which made the day seem urky (that was going to be "murky" but "urky" actually describes it better) and vaguely surreal (and doubly tiring).

Same routine at all the families-- It's great to see you! Oh, you know, school and work. Mm, what tasty foodstuffs you have prepared! Yes, we should briefly chat over some banal subject. Oh, a present? For me? You shouldn't have! Whelp, I'll be heading out now, see you next year!

Just thinking about it makes me head hurt. Mostly the gifts involved money, which was fabulous and much needed. However, my mother bestowed upon me a fabric shaver, a device which removes those annoying fuzzballs from sweaters and the like. (Somewhat surprisingly, it works). I think she has a minor addiction to "As Seen on TV!" products--we get them every year for Christmas/birthdays/other excuses for gift giving. Whatever makes her happy, I suppose.

There was another part to this post, I think, but it has disappeared into the void of my mind/the ether/the internet. I need to start waking up before one in the afternoon.

Lazy resolutions

Winter Break To-Do:

1. Make office into usable room

1a. Get a floor lamp

2. Hit up after-Christmas candy sales

3. Make shepherd's pie (Mmm.)

4. Play with Sculpey

5. Help sister with college applications

6. Produce at least one piece of writing, goddammit!

As with all of my to-dos, who knows what will be accomplished from this, but I've tried to set the bar low enough to actually tempt me to step over it.

Also--Christmas is way less fun as a grown-up. However, despite yesterdays failures and frustrations, I did manage to produce a couple pans of reasonably festive red velvet cupcakes, which were only a tiny bit burnt on the bottom. After burning the crap out of my hand trying to relight the oven, of course. No pain, no gain.

I'm dreaming of a white chocolate Christmas

There is no white chocolate available for purchase in this entire city.

This is a shame, as this was going to be the year I was finally going to make white chocolate peppermint bark for friends and family. Miraculously already having the supplies on hand, I was following my mother's recipe, which was simple enough: melt the chocolate, stir in peppermints, pour onto cookie sheet, let cool. I didn't have the fancy red and green peppermint chunks she always used, but she assured me I could just crack regular peppermints. I proceeded to do so, violently, with a rolling pin. Meanwhile, I was melting the chocolate. Inevitably, it was irreparably burnt. Drove all over town trying to find some damn white chocolate bark/chips--nada. Coming back, made a U-turn on a red light that may or may not have been monitored and in the process broke some of the eggs I'd just bought.

So, in conclusion, I have a three cups of toasted white chocolate in my garbage can, a handful of battered peppermints on my counter, and a potential traffic ticket which I cannot afford (and which is unconstitutional, if you ask me. Damn Big Brother). I'm afraid to even make the little clay figurines I was planning, lest my house catch on fire.

Happy bloody Christmas. I'm going make a sandwich.

School does not equal happy

Down the street from my house, there is an elementary school with a marquee which reads "WE TEACH THE HAPPIEST CHILDREN!!!" And every time I pass it, I just think, "Uh, so?"

Not that schools shouldn't aim for the happiness of children (as much as is feasible, I suppose. Schools by nature are anathema to children). But something about the wording of that sign always just seems off somehow to me. It doesn't so much say that "Our teaching makes the children the happiest" as "These children are (for some probably unrelated reason) happy, and we just happen to teach them. Yay!"

Silly, but just a little thing that is continually a twinge in my day. Also, one of my friends very briefly attended said school, and promptly transferred out after they spent multiple math classes discussing the result of multiplying by zero. So... yeah. Happy children, I guess.

Brain arthritis

At this point I have three different half-finished blog posts saved, all on different subjects, all written the past two days. My thinking has been weird, fuzzy and frustrated. When I try to get around to writing it down, I feel like whatever section of my brain is responsible for writing production has arthritis. This does not just apply to blog posts, but to my writing in general of late.

It was a rough semester, which almost justifies my sleeping until 1 for the last three days.

Also, dammit, the vowel keys on my keyboard are being infuriatingly non-worky. Especially "u". Not a major hang up, but (ARGH) it has been happening enough to make typing a chore. (This is more of a complaint than an excuse).

Submitted to delta. My poems are significantly better than the ones I sent in last year, but despite working on the staff, I am in no way guaranteed publication. This only means I have to see how people vote on my poems. I heard there was drama during the decision process last year, but I suppose that's inevitable when you have a dozen twentysomethings who fancy themselves poets getting drunk on cheap wine and reading each others' work. Looking forward to it! (Actually I really am looking forward to it, we have a lot of great writers submitting stuff this year. I really should have branched out beyond poetry. Less competition.)

I don't know why I feel so compelled to be simultaneously whiny and self-deprecating on here. Holdover from the LiveJournal days, maybe?

Anyway, I really need to get out more so I have more to write about. In general. I literally didn't step foot outside the house today. In my defense, it was a very gray, chilly day.

Goal: Wake up before noon tomorrow. Do something.