Preparing for NaNoWriMo

November means one thing and one thing only...it's NaNoWriMo time!

For the uninitiated NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writing Month. Held every November, writers from all over the world pledge to write 50,000 words in one month. The idea is to write a complete novel from start to finish. At an average of 1666 words a day, it's more about quantity than quality but it is a LOT of fun.

Last year I was a bit naughty and continued on with my in progress novel and it got a huge shot in the arm, even if probably only 20,000 of those words made it to the novel (which is in the drafting and editing stage right now). This year I'm starting something knew which I have tentatively entitled Gods and Jukeboxes. Yeah, I know, pretty random title. I only have the briefest of ideas and I really just want to see what bats fly out of my attic. Could be something, could be nothing.

I'm joining Andrea's NaNoWriMo group at her blog A Cat of Impossible Colour as well as linking in with Perth based NaNo groups for write ins and general companionship in the writing process which can be a bit solitary.

So here's to you November 2009 - at your end I hope I have 50,000 words of something!

I am so glad that work no longer makes me feel like this

Sadly I can't find the author of this cartoon

I used to feel this way about work. It was soul destroying and miserable for me to get up five days a week and go to a job I didn't enjoy. I was always planning for the next job, the next holiday. Anything to get me out of the daily grind.

I had a choice to make about 3 or so months back. I was offered a full time permanent job with a government agency (which makes it seriously permanent) or casual work as a Lecturer. I was very tempted to take the full time job. It had Security. It had a guaranteed income. And as I'd been happily out of work for 6 months that sounded mighty attractive. What if I took the casual job and it didn't last? What if the hours weren't enough? It was a dilemma.

The easy choice would have been the full time job. I know what it is to live that life - making good money, hating my job, dreading Sunday night because it precedes Monday, planning holidays I can't afford to pay for up front, thus resulting in work not being an option, but a necessity to pay credit card bills.

I made the other choice. I chose the casual yet uncertain work. And I have seriously never been happier with my work situation. The job teaching is fine - it isn't boring and there are parts of it I really like. The money is good enough that I make only slightly less working 12 hours a week than I did working 38. There is lots of time for me to write and several days off where I can do my thing.

It is probably the best decision I've made in a long time and it has made a lot of difference to my quality of life. It took some bravery to get there, but I am glad I took that leap.

The Joy Diet: Truth in Dance

I have had my moments of stillness this week.

Several times I sat quietly and tried to distance myself from my thoughts, to let them roll over me like wave after wave of rushing, noisy water. It was hard, very hard. I was gentle with myself about this. I am not experienced at meditation and to expect 15 minutes of perfect stillness straight away is not realistic for me.

I also tried other forms of stillness - one was dancing. Now technically dancing doesn't sound like stillness, but while my body is dancing my mind has no room to think. I'm with the music, I'm with my body, I'm in that moment. And that is the essence of stillness I think.

After dancing I wrote down the follow words in response to the truth question:

What do I feel?

• Unbound
• Passionate
• Buzzy
• Brave
• Able to do anything
• Fluid
• Happy

I love to dance but I simply don't do it anymore. I'm heavier than I was in highschool when I'd come home to an empty house, put on my dancing clothes, turn up the CD player (it was new technology then. Ha!) and dance, dance, dance. I just loved the way it made me feel.

Then I grew up a bit more, went to university and I stopped making time to dance. Now, 15 years later, I almost never dance. Part of it is that I can ignore the heaviness of my body if I don't move it a lot. Those extra 30 pounds or so are barely noticeable if I hide from my body. That's sad, isn't it?

What hurts?
No longer dancing.

What is the painful story I'm telling?
I no longer dance because I'm too fat and too frightened to feel that.

Can I be sure my painful story is true?
It isn't. My dancing today proved that. I can still enjoy dancing.

Is my painful story working?
Well, it was. :) Now, not so much.

Can I think of another story that might work better?
I can dance whenever I like, whenever I want to feel free and fluid and passionate. There is nothing holding me back.

I really enjoyed Truth this week. I'm going to keep telling myself these truths and keep trying to get to the bottom of the stories I'm telling myself, which ones are working and which ones are holding me back.

I also want to consider this question more often:

Of the options open to me, which one brings the most love into the world?

Excuse me, I'm going to dance right now!

I also wrote an additional post this week entitled The Joy Diet: Truth in Failure

The Joy Diet: Truth in Failure

After my almost 15 minutes of stillness - this time lying down and trying to empty my mind - I ask the question Martha Beck poses - what am I feeling? The answer is failure.

Not so much failure at stillness (although I still find it to be very difficult to empty my mind and this has been the reason why meditation has never "stuck" as a practice for me) but just a sense of not being good enough, not knowing enough, not offering enough.

What hurts?
My heart, my losses and disappointments.

What is the painful story I am telling?
I am not good enough, nor will I ever be good enough. I have failed to complete tasks, failed to undertake tasks. My body has failed me, and I have failed it. I have disappointed people. There is no compassion for me, I am undeserving of that which I extend to others.

Can I be sure my painful story is true?
My painful story is equal parts truth and lie. I am not perfect (of course I'm not!) but I'm not a scumbag either. I have made mistakes, but they have mostly turned out for the best. What I see as failure is probably equal parts failure and success. All these so called failures have led me to this point, this moment and I am not unhappy with my life or my choices.

Is my painful story working?
Well, it is preventing me from embracing things that have happened to me in the past. It is restricting my vision of events with the sole heading of FAILURE. So no, I don't think I'm doing myself any favours.

Can I think of another story that might work better?
Oh yes. I am good enough and I have always been good enough. I have had many successes in life and I hold few regrets. The box labeled FAIL is not where I want to put events of my past, present or future. It restricts them - and me - and offers only the ugly sad side of things instead of the complex journey, the good parts of the bad parts, the learning and the understanding. I offer compassion to those ugly bits and I want to look harder and pick out the good stuff.