Ned says Happy Friday!
I hope everyone had an argument-free Thanksgiving and nobody gave anyone else smallpox. I appreciate the idea of a day for giving thanks for what you have and spending time with friends and family—even if it might have a pretty murky history. I have a lot to be thankful for and it’s nice to be reminded of that.
I haven’t written much on here this month because, as mentioned, I’m doing NaNoWriMo and 1666 words a day feels like a lot. It’s hard time to squeeze in any more writing on top of that. It’s funny though, each day has gotten easier and now writing a couple thousand words doesn’t feel as daunting. I am still behind though. We had family in town last week so there were four days where I only managed a couple hundred words a day. I’ve been gradually closing that gap though and now I’m only about a thousand words behind where I’m supposed to be. I keep imagining that scene in Pirates of the Caribbean where they’re chasing the Black Pearl through a storm. I am Jack Sparrow and what’s put me in such a fine mood is that “We’re catching up.” I should probably dig out that pirate hat from last Halloween and wear it every time I go write in a bar or a coffee shop. It’d be a fun conversation starter I imagine. Although I need words on the page, not conversations, right now. Still. Maybe once I’m back on track.
Writing in public places makes me feel less like a hermit. I find I have to get out of the house every day or I start to go batty. My new favorite is actually a hotel bar downtown. It’s pretty quiet there after the lunch hour and they keep refilling my single cup of coffee without any apparent annoyance until happy hour starts and I switch over to wine. I like the people who come down from the hotel, too, people traveling or here on business. There are a lot of interesting conversations going on. It’s funny how much the setting around me seems to influence how much work I get done. Creativity is an odd thing. The rational part of me thinks that it doesn’t matter where you’re sitting or who’s around you. You write what you write. But that’s just not true, is it? It matters. These weird little rituals can make all the difference for whether I struggle to get out five hundred words or whether I disappear into the page and come out two thousand words later. Like coming up from underwater. Like waking from a dream. Our minds are funny things. I don’t understand it but I guess I’ll just have to accept it. Anyway, see you at happy hour.