This is my first post of 2014! I had so many big plans for posts: Christmas Tips for Lazy Parents, How to Alienate Family and Friends in Ten Easy Steps, 2003-2013 The Years in Review, My New-Years UnResolutions, etc.

I think I’ve lost my blogging mojo. It’s hard to work up the enthusiasm to write long, well-written tomes with good photographs that get about three page views (Hi Dave!) when I can toss up a pithy one-liner on Facebook and get 37 likes.

But, oh blogging, I can’t quit you. You are my first love. I started blogging before I was on Twitter, before I was on Facebook. And blogging is mine. My posts belong to me, not Mark Zuckerberg (I’ll bet you didn’t know this, but all of your Facebook posts are the intellectual property of Facebook).

And while I enjoy the pithy one-liners, and while I can work a classroom like nobody’s business, blogging is the real window into my soul. A glimpse into my heart and my sick and twisted and confused little mind. I tend to think I’m blogging into the abyss, and then someone I barely know comes up to me and grabs my arm and says, “Thank you for that last post.”

We live in an age that is polished as hell. I was feeling pretty damn proud of the simple little birthday cake I made for Oscar’s 5th birthday when another woman who I follow on Facebook posted a picture of the Pinterest-worthy, flawless, marzipan-covered cake she had made for her daughter’s birthday. I admit it, I seethed with jealousy and rage. Then Oscar said, “This is the Best. Cake. Ever!” and I thought, if it’s good enough for Oscar, it’s good enough for me.

The key to making a five-year-old happy is sprinkles. Lots and lots of sprinkles.

People post pictures of their lattes, their shoes, their sushi, their 3-year-olds who play the piano and recite French poetry, their cats, their clean kitchens, and their delightfully retro and ironic baby nurseries. I know I’ve whined about this before, but my babies never had nurseries, damn it. And I own like two pairs of shoes that you will  never see pictures of.

So I’ve decided that I have to keep this blog alive for one and only one purpose: to give you a glimpse into the life of someone who does not live a perfect and polished life. I eat whatever the hell I want, read the most random assortment of crap, and spend ungodly amounts of time on the internet. I try to be a good mom and a good teacher and sometimes a good writer but mostly I fail miserably (please don’t tell me in the comments that I am good at any of these things. I’m not fishing for compliments. Really. I DO NOT WANT COMPLIMENTS). Cuz see? It’s okay to fail. I kind of like that about myself. I like that when I was complaining about being tired and disorganized one of my students said, “You are the only professor I have who acts like a real person.” I like the idea of becoming the poster child for the unpolished, the uncool, the frantic and the hopeless.

Reader, we can be friends because I’m never a threat. Your outfits will always be cuter than mine. Your parties will always be more fun. Your glasses more hip. Your coffee more expensive. Your house will always be bigger and cleaner and more ironically decorated. Your Instagram more instagramy. That’s okay. I like that about our relationship. I like that I can be a candle in the window for the secret and hidden imperfect ones among us.

One of my favorite concepts is wabi-sabi, which is a Japanese phrase that means nothing lasts, nothing is finished, and nothing is perfect. It’s supposed to evoke a sense of serene melancholy. That is my job. I will try to do it imperfectly and not very well.

And now a picture of my daughter with her dolls and a random plastic bug.

Just because.

Let me tell you, it ain’t easy.

We are surrounded by anger, fear, nastiness, and negativity. It comes from all walks of life, from all political and religious affiliations, from the haves and the have nots, from those who think they’re in the right to those who fear they are always wrong.

It’s my way, or the fucking highway.

Sorry for swearing, but I’ve really had enough.

Life has become a nonstop display of one-upmanship. I mean, are we all so freaking miserable that we have nothing else to do but go around pecking at each other like a bunch of diseased chickens?

If everyone had their way, you would NEVER:

Feed your kids crap (you’re poor and ignorant and you’re ruining their precious snowflake brains)

Feed your kids organic food (you’re a liberal elitist and never let your kids have any fun)

Shop on Black Friday (You’re part of the problem. Be like me and pay full price for your Mac you vile scum)

Eat at McDonald’s (It’s not real food! Jaime Oliver says so)

Take your kid outside without a hat (Because frostbite. And fashion)

Eat food that comes from China (They sneak arsenic into everything because they are both evil and stupid)

Eat bananas (They don’t even come from this hemisphere!)

Be liberal (You’re an anti-American terrorist-worshiping elitist who hates God and kittens)

Be conservative (Because George W. Bush)

Question anything (Because you always were so bossy)

Put too many pictures of yourself having fun on Facebook (You think you’re so great)

Avoid Facebook (What? Do you think you’re better than me?)

Play video games (Seriously? The Downfall of Civilization)

Watch sports (See above)

Dress fashionably and enjoy shopping (You’re so shallow)

Not care about how you look (You’re a dirty hippie who never has any fun)

ENOUGH!!!

Here’s a tip: life is really, really, really freaking short. It will be over before you have a chance to notice how short it is.

Figure out what makes you happy. WHAT MAKES YOU HAPPY?????

Your answer may NOT be one of the following:

• Other people doing what you want them to do
• Other people living life the way you think they should be living it
• Other people paying attention to you
• Other people not screwing you over
• Other people not screwing other people over
• Other people coming to you
• Other people getting out of your way
• Other people keeping neat and clean and saying nice words
• Other people doing things that make sense to you
• Other people saying things you agree with and understand
• Other people not scaring you
• Other people giving a shit about you

Here are some better options:

• Make stuff. Create stuff.
• Be active. Move your body.
• Learn something.
• Fix things. NOT people.
• Focus only on improving yourself, NOT others.
• Eat delicious food that makes you happy. Don’t pay any attention to what other people are eating.
• Take pictures. Yourself. Don’t worry about the pictures other people may or may not be taking.
• Read books. If you think they all suck, write your own.
• Chocolate.
• Good coffee.
• Put on your favorite music and dance around. And don’t do it because you want someone to see you being joyous.
• Makes lists of everything in your life that is wonderful and perfect. If you do this every day, the lists get longer and longer.
• Watch awesome movies. Make popcorn.
• Take naps.
• Take baths.
• Take walks.

When I taught eighth grade I realized that I would never have anything to complain about ever again. I had two students who brought their laundry to the school nurse because they lived in a car. I had a student who was horribly burned because his father set him and his sister on fire. I had a student who had no curfew because her mother went out partying every night. I had a student who told me that no adult ever smiled at her over the course of a day.

Get over yourselves people.

Whatever self-righteous indignation you may be holding close, tear it to pieces and flush it away.

Be a lamp, or a lifeboat, or a ladder.

Be joyful. Be contagious.

It’s National Novel Writing Month

This is an annual event in which people are encouraged to write 50,000 words in a month. It is tremendous fun and the community that has built up around it is amazing. Millions participate. The discussion forums are filled with writers at all hours of the day and night discussing everything from the intricacies of characterization and plotting, to tips and tricks for motivating the muse.

Did I mention that it’s a community? Did I mention that it’s fun?

I try to participate every year. The most I’ve ever managed to write is 28,000 words. Last year I wrote 1,167 words on the first day and never wrote again after that. Life got in the way, like it always does.

Sometime this summer, when I started getting NaNoWriMo emails again, I debated even thinking about participating. There are pros and cons to participating. It is, after all, in November. The Worst Possible Month Ever. There many naysayers, among the people I know, and among actual writers.

Some people I know say I’m too busy, or I have kids, or papers to grade, or scholarship to publish, or whatever. I get made fun of for various reasons. “Well, if you have time to write a novel…”

“Real writers” don’t like NaNoWriMo at all. They don’t like the idea of the rabble getting their grimy hands all over Art and Literature.

The Naysayers say that the poor literary agents and junior editors are inundated with crap on December 1st because the participants are apparently too stupid to either revise their novels or submit them properly. However I’ve discussed with this agents and editors I follow on Twitter and they say they don’t get more submissions than usual after NaNoWriMo.

The Naysayers say that real novels are longer than 50,000 words. While it’s true true that most novels average 60,000-120,000 words in length, most people I know who write a novel during NaNoWriMo either write more than 50,000 words the first time around, or they revise their first draft and add much more after NaNoWriMo.

But just for the sake of argument, here are some novels that are 50,000 words or less:

• The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams (46,333 words)
• The Notebook by Nicholas Sparks (52,000 words)
• The Red Badge of Courage by Stephen Crane (50,776 words)
• The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald (50,061 words)
• Lost Horizon by James Hilton
• Shattered by Dean Koontz
• Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk
• Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck
• Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.
• The Invisible Man by H. G. Wells
• As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner (56,695 words)

Finally, the Naysayers say that NaNoWriMo produces bad writers. Really? Really? Since when does writing make you a bad writer? One of the things that I struggle with as a writer and writing teacher is convincing people that the only way to get better at writing is to write, and to write a Shit Ton.

I read one snarky blog recently in which the writer said, “How would you feel if it were National Symphony Writing Month? Write a symphony in a month! Well, it can’t be done, and I hate the fact that people think anyone can write a novel.”

OK, let me rain on the parade of the Delicate Genius. Sorry, but anyone can write a novel. And also? Anyone can write a symphony. Sure, it takes skill. Tremendous skill. And it take practice. But musicians don’t sit around writing symphonies. They do scales. They practice pieces. For hours and hours and hours and days and months and years. Good writers do the same thing.

People worry that writing 50,000 words in a month produces bad writing. I actually used to think this was the case myself, and I think it’s something that has held me back from finishing. However, once I actually started writing I came to realize that my real problem has been writing too slow, not writing too fast.

I tend to need a warm-up period, in which my writing comes out creaky and slow and pretty bad. This can go on for as much as 1,000-2,000 words. So if I’m only writing 500-1000 words each day, my usual pace, I never break past that point, and I’m chronically dissatisfied with my writing.

This time around I began writing furiously fast right from the beginning, my word count climbing at an alarmingly fast rate. I noticed something happens around 1,500-2,000 words. My writing gets better. Sometimes it even gets pretty good. I’ve written a few startling paragraphs that have blown me away. I believe I’ve taken my writing to a new level.

Another thing is that I’ve never written every day, for so many consecutive days in a row. I’m hoping to carry this habit into December and beyond. In fact, I’ve created a writing chain, and I don’t plan on breaking it.

I take comfort from knowing that Water for Elephants and The Night Circus are two examples critically acclaimed, best-selling novels written during NaNoWriMo. They also happen to be two of my favorite novels.

For people who think I should be using my time more productively, I would tell you two things. The first is that this is not time I would normally be using to do real work, or socializing with neglected friends and family members, or being a better mother. This is time that would normally be spent surfing the internet or watching television.

The other thing is that I have wanted to be a writer for as long as I could remember. I clearly remember being seven and wanting to be a writer. Writing is fully and completely part of who I am. Everyone who knows me well knows this about me. It’s a dream. A dream. If you don’t think I should be grabbing at it with every fiber of my being, I’m not sure I want to know you.

Finally, the real reason I started writing with a vengeance this time around is that my characters, the ones who have been living inside my head for a long time, showed up at my door one night carrying pitchforks and demanding to be set free.

So I write. And write. And write. I’m at 19,055/50,000 words. I’m supposed to have around 11,000 as of today. So you can see that it’s going quite well. So far. Knock on 1,000 planks of wood. I actually anticipate my novel coming in at around 70,000-90,000 words for the first draft.

I will no longer be posting word count updates to Twitter and Facebook, but I will put a word count widget here in the sidebar of my blog, and I will also post updates here from time to time letting you know how it’s going.

In honor of the all of the posts I’m seeing around Facebook about foods that the “experts” won’t eat, I’ve decided to make my own post.

 

1. Bacon

Just kidding. I love bacon.

2. Pepsi

Who drinks this? Coke is it! OK, I’ll drink it if you offer me one or if I’m at a restaurant that only serves Pepsi. I’m not going without soda!

3. Any food that expires the day I’m eating it.

That would be wrong.

4. Leftovers that “look funny.”

Especially when my other option is ordering a pizza.

5. Cold french fries.

Luckily they usually don’t last long enough to get cold.

6. Those weird orange and black candies you get at Halloween.

Because they were last manufactured in 1957.

7. Mayonnaise on hamburgers.

I like mayo on most things, but on hamburgers? That’s disgusting.

8. Canned peas.

However, I love canned corn, canned tomatoes, and canned Spaghetti-Os.

9. Soggy bread.

Ewwwww.

10. Iceberg Lettuce

Unless it has ranch dressing on it. Or if it’s on a hamburger. Or a taco.