Slump

I'm in a slump, evidenced by the fact that I'm writing this post instead of anything for the novel.

I can blame it on a lot of things, but the real reason is that I'm just exhausted and I way overreached when taking on this rather ambitious project.

That isn't to say I'm stopping, because I will finish this novel. I just don't think it's realistic for me to finish in the month of November. This week is Thanksgiving, next week I'm giving Benchmarks to my students, and then the month is over. The first weekend in December is the girl-child's 4th birthday and then it's finals and grading is due. Then winter break.

So writing lands on my low list of priorities... and did I mention I have homework? Like, my own teacher homework? This is thankfully my last year in BTSA (if you really want to know what it is, google it. The basics: it sucks). I really do have too many things up in the air...

I'm hoping to find time to write Wednesday in between pies (that's my Thanksgiving task). I'm also hoping to devote a good amount of time over winter break to writing. We have to pay for daycare regardless, and so I'll keep the kids in daycare for a few days and spend some time writing, lesson planning, and cleaning (isn't my life exciting?).

But this writing is hard work, without any real immediate return. While I don't expect everything I do to have instant gratification, I didn't really expect <i>nothing</i>. There's not much motivating me to write instead of, say, watch The Big Bang Theory. There's no pull to continue the story when I'm not really emotionally connected to it.

So I'm in a weird spot, where I'm determined to finish because I want to say that I have - and a part of me wants to quit completely because if I'm only doing this for me, then what's the point again? It's not like poetry, where the writing is cathartic. This story, while involving characters that are combinations of people I really know, doesn't hold any pull for me. There's no emotional buy-in from my end. I like Aileen, and I know too many Jeanie's... but... I don't know. I just don't feel like there's a compelling need to finish their story.

I will though. But just not in the month of November.

Maybe this summer I need to write one that I can really connect to.

Of course, it's likely I'll be teaching summer school. No wonder every English teacher is "working on" a novel - we never have time to finish anything as our jobs zap our time, energy, and (sometimes) will to live.

Kidding. Mostly.

Do I have 44,000 more words worth of story?

So let's see.

Aileen and Jeanie are best friends. One is a bit of an introvert and one is a bit of an extrovert. Jeanie's latest "The One" is a man who works Renaissance Faire, has a day job as a Social Worker, and picks up night shifts at a bar to make ends meet. This man, Christian, meets Aileen for the 1st time and starts to fall for her. Jeanie is a bit of a drunk, starts a downward spiral, has a meltdown and pushes all her friends away. This pushes Aileen and Christian toward each other. They struggle with how to tell Jeanie.... and then?

Does Jeanie go to rehab? Does she go home to her family in Montana to get her metaphorical groove back? Do Aileen and Christian stay together or do the circumstances of their initial hook-up prevent them from starting something solid? Does Lassie alert everyone in time to rescue Jimmy from the well?

BIG GIANT SIGH OF FRUSTRATION.

Also, grades were due today. And? Our department is running an after-school intervention next week for students who haven't turned in an essay. Who is organizing said intervention? Me. Who VOLUNTEERED to do so? Me.

Do y'all see a pattern here? I take on too much.

But I'm not quitting. I'll keep on with this novel. It very well may take me longer than the month of November. But I really want to finish it and to have an actual product at the end. Even if no one reads it (well, other than you).

I have to confess that I'm not allowing my husband to read it. I might at some point, but he's not really a reader (I know, I know - but remember that thing about opposites). Wonderful husband, amazing father, hates books. (Ok, so hates is an exaggeration). So it's quite possible he won't even want to read it. I have mixed feelings about that. While I don't necessarily want him to read it, I also kinda want him to WANT to read it.

Do you see how this makes me a crazy person?

At least I have you, dear reader - who has seen my page 53 times. So either one person is clicking a few times a day, or there are actual a handful of people who are interested enough to read. I'm going to imagine it's the latter and not the former. Wait, which one is that? I hate that phrase, it always confuses me.

I hope it's a half a dozen readers. That's what I meant.

Of course, now that I've shown you my crazy, you won't come back.... or maybe you will, because I have AN EXCERPT!

This is after the 1st excerpt, but before the second. I like to keep you on your toes, apparently.

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            “Hey Jeanie, where are we meeting Christian and how long do we have to stay?” I asked as I turned toward her. Only she wasn’t there. In her place was a man dressed in a yellow shift, brown pants, and a matching hat who was holding up a basket of what looked like squid parts.

            “Would you like to try a succulent squid my Lady?” he asked as he pushed the basket of putrid seafood nearer to my face.

            “Uh, no thanks” I replied as I backed away quickly. Where the hell is Jeanie? I wondered.

            My cell phone buzzed. Ah, that must be her. Maybe she just went to the bathroom.

            I reached into my bodice and grabbed my cell, which was wedged (rather uncomfortably) in between my breasts. I decided that this was not my day. Between bruising my ribs in a corset and fishing my phone out from between my breasts, I had had my fill of uncomfortable situations. I was hoping I wouldn’t need my cash or ID at any point since they had probably migrated their way down my cleavage and were probably resting somewhere near my bellybutton.

            It was a text. It read found the Man, by the beer garden, meet me there

            Great. Now I had to find my way through the throng of rotten fish, sparkly fairy wings, and men attempting to personify Johnny Depp all by myself. Jeanie, you owe me, I grumbled to myself as I picked up my heavy skirts and tried to navigate through the throng. During the minute I had stopped to check my phone, the crowd had increased and included what looked like a herd of Tinkerbells being directed by a trio of women in matching tie-dye shirts. People moved aside for the children and so I decided to follow the group and hope they lead me in the right direction. At the very least it would reduce the odds of being accosted by another man carrying rotten meat.

            I lucked out. The school of faries came upon the beer garden rather quickly and as the fairy wranglers quickly shooed the children away from the 21 and over area I made a beeline for the bouncer.

            “ID?” he asked as I stopped short.

            “Um, yes. I think.” He looked at me quizzically. “I, uh, well. look. This is my first time at the Renaissance Faire and I was told to keep all my stuff, well, I mean. It’s in my bodice. Somewhere.” I looked at him pleadingly.

            “Sorry, can’t let you in without ID.”

            “Damn. Ok, I understand.” I pulled out my cell and dialed Jeanie. No answer.

            Damn it, I thought angrily, where IS she?

            The tap on my shoulder caught me off guard.

            “Excuse me, Aileen?”

            I turned around startled and found myself staring into the eyes of a Viggo Mortensen look-alike. His shoulder length hair fell down in waves and his eyes were a grey green color with an intenseness that sent a shiver down my spine. How does he know my name? I wondered to myself.

            “Yes… do I know you?” I finally managed to stammer.

            “Well yes and no, I’m Christian,” he replied with a winning smile. It should be illegal to have teeth that white. I thought. Damn, Jeanie was right. This one is cute.

            “Ah, nice to meet you Christian,” I held out my hand to shake his, but he opened his arms wide.

            “I’m a hugger,” he explained as his rather muscular arms enveloped me. He was the best smelling thing I’d encountered at the Renaissance Faire thus far, but to be fair, I had recently been forced to smell some overripe sea food. So the bar wasn’t set very high.

            “Hey, thanks for letting us borrow costumes,” I said as he let go. “It was really nice of you.”

            “No problem,” his smile really was mesmerizing, “couldn’t let you ladies walk into Faire looking like Turkeys.”

            “Wha?”

            “It’s what us Rennies call customers,” he said as he took my arm and lead me into the beer garden, “It’s alright John, she’s one of mine.”

            One of mine. The words repeated themselves over and over again in my head. He was either very sweet or incredibly presumptuous. I decided to hold off on judgment until I got to know him a little better. In the meantime I was scanning the crowd to try and find Jeanie. She was in for a lecture.

            “Jeanie sent me to come and get you,” he said, reading my mind. “She remembered that she had you put your ID and cash inside your corset before she laced you in, so there’s no way they’d let you in without an escort.”

            “Well, wasn’t that nice of her,” I replied.

            He laughed. “You can’t get too mad at Jeanie, her heart is in the right place even if her head rarely is.”

            “That’s pretty spot-on analysis, especially for someone who’s only known her for two weeks.”

            “Well, my Bachelors is in Clinical Psychology and my Masters is in Social Work, so I’ve gotten pretty good at reading people.”

            “Wow, impressive,” and I really was impressed. The usual caliber of men Jeanie dated was significantly less than this guy. Handsome, polite, and college educated? She’d hit the jackpot. There HAD to be something wrong with this guy.

            “So what do you do Aileen?” he asked, “Jeanie has been rather vague with the details.”

            “It’s because she’s embarrassed of me,” I laughed. “I’m actually a Kindergarten teacher. She can’t stand that her best friend is so mundane. Last week she set me up with a guy she works with, but told him I was an investigative reporter. Poor guy was more than a little disappointed.”

            “There’s nothing shameful about being in education,” he replied. “In fact, it’s one of the most noble professions. Very few people can impact a child’s life like a teacher.”

            I smiled. I think I was going to like this one. Jeanie had my seal of approval to continue to date him.

            “Ah, speak of the devil,” I said as we stopped at the ale stand. “There’s my bestie.”

            And there she was, playing a game of giant tug of war with a man who was twice her size, both horizontally and vertically. To make the game “fair” he had blindfolded himself and was standing on one foot on top of a small box. Jeanie was laughing so hard she could barely hold the rope. The giant man won easily.

            “Hey Aiai!” Jeanie yelled as she spotted me from her new spot on the grass. “You found us!”
            “No thanks to you,” I replied. “You totally owe me a beer.”

            “Coming right up,” the giant man said as he helped pick Jeanie up from off the ground. He walked the two steps over to the ale stand and grabbed a goblet the size of a large baby. I eyed the container suspiciously.

            “It’s good Aiai, try it,” Jeanie encouraged.

            “You can trust it,” Christian said, noticing my hesitation, “Tiny here makes the best home-brew.”

            “Alright,” I cautiously picked up the goblet. It was definitely a two handed proposition. The thing weighed a ton. I took a sip.           

            “Nice,” I smiled at Tiny. “Very impressive, thanks.”

            “You’re quite welcome,” his voice was low and soft, very soothing and unexpected. “I make it right before we open every year. Lately the batch has only been lasting through the first weekend, I’m actually thinking of bottling it. Just need to come up with a name.”

            “Oh have Aiai come up with one, she’s good at that stuff,” Jeanie gushed.

            I smiled, “I’ll have to think on it. Maybe something like ‘a big beer for a little bottle’”

            “I like that line of thinking,” replied Tiny, “it suits me.” He picked up his equally large goblet and drank thirstily.

It's been 2 days

Since I wrote anything... I am way behind.

Monday night's excuse was preparation for a Tuesday evaluation. I was putting the finishing touches on lesson plans and changed my mind a half a dozen time (the eval went well). Tuesday was the election, and I spent the night glued to my TV. I probably could have written and watched election returns, but I was anxious about a few candidates and ballot measures, so I couldn't really focus on writing.

Tonight I have some lesson planning, but I'll attempt to get back on the #nanowrimo bandwagon. It's hard, that's for sure. They weren't kidding when they said the 2nd week is the hardest.

Anyway, more story later this week - I hope!