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This Month I’m Participating in NaNoWriBloPoDoSomeMoMo. (I’m Writing)
The first of November brings many things: a belly ache from over-consumption of the kids’ Trick-or-Treat candy (which, surprisingly, does NOT mix well with the margaritas I consumed to survive three hours of doorbell ringing); the lethargic gathering of Halloween decorations from around the house, which will typically sit on the hall bench for another few days until I find the energy to dig out the “Halloween decorations” bin from the garage; a panicked, anxious and last-minute sign up for “NaNoWriMo”, which stand for “National Novel Writing Month”, where I commit to writing about 2000 words a day, attempting to complete a novel; the alternate desperate commitment to participate in “NaBloPoMo”…
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Writers’ Workshop: Afraid of Heights
I was a shy, timid, anxious kid. Not surprisingly, as I have recently clarified, I am an anxious adult. I am also an introvert. Not much has changed in what I’m afraid of, because of said personality traits. I was afraid of heights. Well, it’s not so much heights I’m afraid of (I worked on the 92nd floor of the Sears Tower for a while). It’s the fear of falling. Basophobia. I read that it is common in nearly all people and animals, so I guess my fear is BIGGER than most. For example: On a family vacation one year, we went to New York and visited the Statue of…
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Here we go with NaBloPoMo!
Oh, the inside of my head is a very confusing, distracted place to be. I don’t function well with clutter around me. Facebook is NOT my friend. I have turned off all sounds and notifications, but I am still too easily distracted. I write better first thing in the morning – mostly – but I only get to the gym if I go the first thing in the morning. This is a problem. My to-do lists are helpful – when I remember to write them. My brain – it just isn’t focusing like it once was. I should probably get my thyroid checked, but I every time I go online…
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NaBloPoMo November was a Bust
I think it is safe to say that signing up for NaBloPoMo last month – in the middle of trying to sell our house and plan and out-of-state move – was not the sanest of my decisions. I was hoping that it would give me a reason to sit down and write when I have so many other things that would nudge their way into my line of sight and distract me. You know how it goes. Poke, poke went that box of miscellaneous china pieces that my husband inherited and have been gathering dust in the attic for two years. TWO YEARS. “You don’t want to move me again,…
