The Toughest Thing about getting Ready for NaNoWriMo…

… is the waiting. I am desperate to start my book. NaNoWriMo is a writing challenge. There will be thousands of people doing it in the month of November. We will all attempt write a 50;000 word book in a month. It will be a little book but it will be written. And My book is just hanging about shuffling its feet in the wings, warmed up and ready to erupt onto the stage. But not yet. I am not allowed to begin the work until November FIRST.

I thought to myself yesterday. I will write a tiny bit on the location. To explore. Just do some research and visualisation. I opened up Word and labelled it Nothing Very Much.

I love corridors so I started in the corridor, it is wide with shiny dark wooden floors, big old heavy doors closed and waiting, late morning light streaming in from the open front door. Maybe just the hint of early summer jasmine in the air. 

Next thing you know, slam of a door and  two kids are sliding down the shiny corridor in polishing socks. Polishing socks are usually your Dad’s big thick ones but these kids had their Mum’s boot socks on because her boots are hand me downs and a little big for her feet.

Then they start talking to each other. What! They are not meant to be talking to each other. They are not even meant to be here.  We can’t start writing yet!  In a dash to avoid hearing what the story is doing,  the heroine climbs out the ground story bedroom window, and tips headfirst into a  prickly bush  (who put that there!) and a nun walks past suggesting maybe she needs some rest dear and have you hit your head?

Stop talking I say to them. STOP IT! All of you. Go away. We are not allowed to start writing until  November first. So they all slink back to their bedrooms  and back down the path. NO MORE TALKING or Doing or Anything!  My flying fingers shout.

Their doors bang closed and I hit delete.

Phew, a close call. How many days do I have before I can start. Wait (rummage rummage, I have to clear up my desk before Nov 1st… where is that page from the calender. Mutter mutter)  Eleven.  Eleven days. Eleven days of trying to keep this collection of characters quiet and still.

Can I just say one thing? Calling from the other side of the closed door.

No. Stay there until I say and you are not allowed to speak for eleven days.  

It is broke.

What is broke?

The shower.

Broke? The shower is broke. What kind of English is that? Broke means poor. We are not poor. Well not much. Poorish.  Why am I talking to a character who is not allowed to come out until November FIRST!  And what is wrong with the shower?

Baby stuck eight chopsticks down the plughole.  The disembodied voice calls up under the large drafty crack in the door.

No.  No! Where is the cone of silence when I need it.  NO! NO!  No More Story. Back in your box all of you. Back.  In.  The.  Box!  You can’t be trusted to sit quietly behind a bedroom door. So Into the BOX!

Sigh. There. Do I have to sit on the Box lid for eleven days?

Maybe I should do some studying, work out what I am doing and keep my mind off the whispering and scrabbling in The Story Box.  Writing a book in a month needs some research surely.

The Old Codger’s daughter, who is visiting her father, brought me a book the other day. No Plot. No Problem.   By Chris Baty.   I am sure you knew all about it but I did not even know it existed. This one is very useful.

The Elements of Style. by Strunk/White/Kalman.. My grammar is terrible and  it has g pictures. Pictures are good.

I have; Reading like a Writer by Francine Prose which has no pictures but is wonderfully readeable and makes perfect sense. 

And the other day Ella Dee sent me Last Chance to Eat by Gina Mallet which has nothing to do with the task at hand but everything to do with good reading and excellent subject matter. Plus I like her style. I like the Voice of the writer. Thank you so much Ella Dee. Books are the most wonderful presents.

Yesterday I dug in the mud most of the day, freeing up the North sliding doors so they open and shut easily in the winter. We started building a new fence beside the yards.  The  sheep were jumping the old fence which was not terribly useful.  And at last the final puzzle in the erratic milking pump saga fell into place and everything worked at the same time. Beautifully.  The Surrogate milker was so relieved.  Milking has been a trial this last week. Lets hope it works for a while now.

Good morning.   It is time for me to find my torch and go out and begin the day. The dawn is getting later but that does not mean the milking time gets later.  I hope you are all going to have a lovely day.

celi

On this day day a year ago.  Jack Frost.  I guess the frosts started later last year.