So last night I had all these dreams and I was gonna wake up and tell them to you but I can’t remember even one.
I can remember night before last’s and it including two dogs who had no hair but skin that looked like a mummy’s. The dogs were headed toward the car I was in.
Are these my pups made into zombies?
Phht. I still hate ’em.
Oh wait.
Last night.
I was in this way old house that was my neighbor’s. A Southern house from the ’30’s, maybe, and the floors were falling apart and riding up and down and there was a claw foot tub and I remember the halls were super-wide. The best part? I had so much money I was rebuilding her a home and mine, too (on the huge lot next door).
I must be worried about my own home.
Making Time to Write
Long before I was pubbed I lived in Florida and worked at the Borden’s ice cream plant where I got to eat all the ice cream I wanted. Plus drink milk. Chocolate.
Anyway.
By this time in my life (16), I knew I wanted to be a writer.
Being a writer meant a lot to me.
I didn’t know it, but all the reading I did and all the writing I did was training me to be a professional.
I wrote anytime an idea struck, including when I was at work and could only put one word down at a time, on a cardboard ice cream box I kept on a work table beside me, while I sealed boxes of ice cream sandwiches (24 per box, marked for individual sale, probably for Disney or another theme park).
Idea strikes.
Pull out pen.
Write for three seconds.
Fold box tops down
tuck lid in
slap on tape
throw container on conveyor belt
write a few more words
fold box tops down
tuck lid in
slap on tape
throw container on conveyor belt
write a few more words
fold box tops down
tuck lid in
You get the picture.
I wanted it.
I wanted to succeed.
I had no idea then that those stories I worked on in the Borden’s Ice Cream Plant, Orlando, Florida, would wind up in my first novel, Kelly and Me a million years later. While I had a goal to publish, I didn’t believe it was possible. I had no idea how to go about it. I never thought it would happen to me.
So tomorrow–that’s day one of NaNoWriMo.
And here’s the deal for me.
I am going to write the BEST I can during this next month because I want to sell this book when we’re through with the competition.
It’s possible.
I know how I write, I know what a books needs, I’ve been thinking (sort of) of this story for a long time, and I want to succeed.
I also know my weaknesses as a writer, that I think 1000 words is a good day and that I have to triple that, that I’m not exactly sure how this novel will end–or even what the climax will be.
I have some of the answers.
But still lots of problems that I’ll try and decide solutions to today or discover as I write along.
Here’s the second deal for me.
If I can’t do it the first few days, well, I may jump overboard because I don’t want this time wasted.
Still–if I can write short stories on a brown cardboard box, why can’t I do this next month?
The truth is we look for excuses to fail (see above paragraph).
You succeed when you set your mind to something.
When you do it.
And if you love what you do, well, that will help you that much more in your success rates.
Want it bad enough.
Go after it.
2300 words per day.
We’re going together.
So I’m taking a deep breath.
Tomorrow we begin!
Throwing Up Words 