Why I Gave Up Writing
Wow, I'm nervous.
My first blog post.
I feel all weak in the arms and hands like right before a run, or before I got up in front of all those good people at Stone Soup and read "Expenses". Bear with me, these should become more coherent as time goes on.
In November of 2008 I managed, barely to complete 50,200 words for National Novel Writing Month. I had the first draft of "Inheritance". I was only going to participate, not finish-I didn't need that pressure on top of everything else. I made the snap decision to participate and got started on November 13th. I began with a babe on the boob, typing with one hand.
Life was surreal then, I was barely recovered from a cesarean, I wasn't even leaving the house yet for play dates much. The thought of attempting the outdoors without the hubby and the new baby was daunting. My four year old still took each incident of the baby crying as her cue to begin in her loudest voice to demand attention at the same time.
After completing my novel, at 11:30pm on the last day of the month, I was thrilled. My beautiful husband had taken the children for several hours some nights, and for large blocks of the weekends. I even left the house for a few "write ins". A write in is where other people participating in Nanowrimo go to meet others who are also writing a novel. They talk, discuss plotting, video games, popular culture, and write along side their fellow novelists. It is a beautiful thing to behold. In recognition of my short reprieve, I go early, get a good seat, don't announce myself, and get to work. No one knows I am there as part of the project but I feel like I am involved this way. Connected.
My husband is an intelligent man, he loves me and tries his best to be supportive but unless I work soccer in somehow, could care less about the novel. If it is ever published, it will be the third book he has ever read. Maybe by then the fourth.
Where was I? Anyone, anyone?
Due to the fact that I wasn't sleeping much and my plan of getting up every morning at 4am was just not panning out for some reason, I was reduced to furiously jotting down and storing ideas, complaints, news pieces, anything that caught my attention, then trying to put a lid on it and go back to real life.
I then decided to attend the Nano editing group as well. It was once a month, this seemed doable.
Again, as always happens with me, when I start writing, even if it is with the intention of only working in November-knowing full well that trying to fit anything else will make me nuts, I did it anyway.
I learned a lot. I got my novel past the reading stage, to the two people have read it and had suggestions phase, and even wrote up the one page summary I needed to focus the idea for the next rewrite. Then I was sitting in one of our meetings, discussing the upcoming Writer's Conference which I had decided to attend and pitch my novel. It still needed gobs of work, not to mention the practice on the pitch, and researching agents, lining up babysitting, convincing the beautiful, supportive, maybe not so enthused husband as well. I was optimistic, but started to see that something was going to have to give.
Then someone said, "It's a lot of money, there's really no reason to go unless you have something ready to show." Now whether or not this was exactly true, this comment still hit home. Odds were, I was not going to be ready, not even close. I could see it already, there I would be, chalking the whole experience up to learning, and not accomplishing what I had set out to do which was to have a coherent pitch of this novel, and to get to that point it would mean time I was not getting near enough of to accomplish this.
I was tired of trying to fit it in. I was tired of being cranky with my kids because I wasn't doing what I wanted. Much of my childhood was spent in front of the TV while mom was on the phone, or writing letters and articles at the dining room table. She had a cause she felt worthy of her time and she pursued it. She gave me that, the need to fulfill my dream, but I wondered at what cost?
My baby is likely my last, and she will only be small once. I made a conscious decision to put it on hold. Not that I was getting much done anyway, but "giving it up" as it were was a huge load off my shoulders. It gave me permission to just be a mom for a while, focus on the kids, go to the play dates, talk about mommy stuff, give daddy some much needed attention, and not feel like a failure for just trying to stay focused on the family for a while.
Ignorance is bliss.
My first blog post.
I feel all weak in the arms and hands like right before a run, or before I got up in front of all those good people at Stone Soup and read "Expenses". Bear with me, these should become more coherent as time goes on.
In November of 2008 I managed, barely to complete 50,200 words for National Novel Writing Month. I had the first draft of "Inheritance". I was only going to participate, not finish-I didn't need that pressure on top of everything else. I made the snap decision to participate and got started on November 13th. I began with a babe on the boob, typing with one hand.
Life was surreal then, I was barely recovered from a cesarean, I wasn't even leaving the house yet for play dates much. The thought of attempting the outdoors without the hubby and the new baby was daunting. My four year old still took each incident of the baby crying as her cue to begin in her loudest voice to demand attention at the same time.
After completing my novel, at 11:30pm on the last day of the month, I was thrilled. My beautiful husband had taken the children for several hours some nights, and for large blocks of the weekends. I even left the house for a few "write ins". A write in is where other people participating in Nanowrimo go to meet others who are also writing a novel. They talk, discuss plotting, video games, popular culture, and write along side their fellow novelists. It is a beautiful thing to behold. In recognition of my short reprieve, I go early, get a good seat, don't announce myself, and get to work. No one knows I am there as part of the project but I feel like I am involved this way. Connected.
My husband is an intelligent man, he loves me and tries his best to be supportive but unless I work soccer in somehow, could care less about the novel. If it is ever published, it will be the third book he has ever read. Maybe by then the fourth.
Where was I? Anyone, anyone?
Due to the fact that I wasn't sleeping much and my plan of getting up every morning at 4am was just not panning out for some reason, I was reduced to furiously jotting down and storing ideas, complaints, news pieces, anything that caught my attention, then trying to put a lid on it and go back to real life.
I then decided to attend the Nano editing group as well. It was once a month, this seemed doable.
Again, as always happens with me, when I start writing, even if it is with the intention of only working in November-knowing full well that trying to fit anything else will make me nuts, I did it anyway.
I learned a lot. I got my novel past the reading stage, to the two people have read it and had suggestions phase, and even wrote up the one page summary I needed to focus the idea for the next rewrite. Then I was sitting in one of our meetings, discussing the upcoming Writer's Conference which I had decided to attend and pitch my novel. It still needed gobs of work, not to mention the practice on the pitch, and researching agents, lining up babysitting, convincing the beautiful, supportive, maybe not so enthused husband as well. I was optimistic, but started to see that something was going to have to give.
Then someone said, "It's a lot of money, there's really no reason to go unless you have something ready to show." Now whether or not this was exactly true, this comment still hit home. Odds were, I was not going to be ready, not even close. I could see it already, there I would be, chalking the whole experience up to learning, and not accomplishing what I had set out to do which was to have a coherent pitch of this novel, and to get to that point it would mean time I was not getting near enough of to accomplish this.
I was tired of trying to fit it in. I was tired of being cranky with my kids because I wasn't doing what I wanted. Much of my childhood was spent in front of the TV while mom was on the phone, or writing letters and articles at the dining room table. She had a cause she felt worthy of her time and she pursued it. She gave me that, the need to fulfill my dream, but I wondered at what cost?
My baby is likely my last, and she will only be small once. I made a conscious decision to put it on hold. Not that I was getting much done anyway, but "giving it up" as it were was a huge load off my shoulders. It gave me permission to just be a mom for a while, focus on the kids, go to the play dates, talk about mommy stuff, give daddy some much needed attention, and not feel like a failure for just trying to stay focused on the family for a while.
Ignorance is bliss.
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