I Survived NaNoWriMo! (Excerpt Included Eek)

Wow, what a rush. In a crazy moment of recklessness back in early October, I joined National Novel Writing Month. By joining, I promised to write 50,000 words between November 1 and November 30 or die trying.

It wasn’t as easy as I thought; at some points, “die trying” seemed to be preferable to forcing my brain to figure out what came next and getting it onto my laptop in a witty and original way. Like they say, “Dying is easy. Comedy is hard.” Oh sure, I had written thousands upon thousands of words before—I have several unfinished novels in dusty boxes as proof—but never had I committed to writing so many words in so short a time, let alone be subjected to pressure from The Entity That Is NaNo. I felt I was being watched…and I was. Encouraging e-mails from The Entity guilted me into continuing. The word-count bar graph on the NaNo site seemed to mock me, my actual word count (in orange) falling short of the expected word count (in gray) each day. And the worst thing was being able to compare my word count with my NaNo buddies’ counts.

Peer pressure is an incredible force. But when it is harnessed for good, amazing things can happen. Despite too many days when the kidlet was home from school for various reasons, pies that needed to be made, a Thanksgiving that needed to be attended, and a cold and fever that nearly knocked me flat for almost a full week (eons, in NaNo terms), I persevered, and I “won”.

My aunt asked me what I won. She said it wasn’t worth it if I didn’t get paid. She didn’t understand. I won so much—mainly the knowledge that I was capable of writing an entire novel (even though it’s not done yet, I intend to keep going till it is—and I know I will) and confidence in my own ability. The certificate and the NaNo Winner avatar I downloaded are badges of honor, and I wear them proudly.

And now, at 52,000 words (about halfway through my story), I’m taking a short break to regroup, do some work-for-pay (happy, auntie?), and get to some long-neglected housecleaning. But for anyone who’s interested, here’s an excerpt from my novel. HOWEVER! Before you click on the “Continue Reading” link, you must be aware of the caveats I have set in place.

• Warning! This is a chick lit novel. While it includes no fetishism of designer handbags or shoes (because I don’t see the point, myself), does not take place in New York City, and the main character is not a high-powered career woman, it does contain many of the trappings of said genre. If you cannot abide chick lit, go no further.

• Warning! This excerpt is almost entirely unedited. The main rule of NaNo is to write, write, write—get it all out during the contest period, and go back and edit later. Therefore, it includes bad grammar, bad dialogue, and bad ideas, not to mention plot holes and disjointed thoughts. Not a lot, but a few. If you prefer your fiction edited to within an inch of its life, go no further.

• Warning! This excerpt is missing some key details. For instance, I don’t even mention a geographical location where the story takes place. No town name, no mention of what part of the country. Quite frankly, I didn’t have time to dither over stuff like that. That’s for the next revision. If you prefer your fiction highly detailed in every regard, go no further.

Okay. If you have read the warnings and still want to check out Jayne’s NaNo Folly, go ahead and click. If you like it, let me know by leaving a comment. If you hate it, don’t let me know. (Just kidding—go ahead and leave a comment—I can take it.) Just know that this story will likely change a ridiculous number of times between now and the moment I finally click “save” for the last time, sit back, and sigh “Done”. And to all my friends who encouraged me to keep going, thank you! You rock!

It’s The Little Things That Make You, You Know, Insane

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Usually I love waking in predawn darkness to the sound of rain. Most of the time, in this area, our rain comes in the form of drizzle, so on the occasion that it really, truly rains, I revel in the drumming sound of a steady shower. This morning, however, I found myself tensely focusing on another noise.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

I looked around my son’s bedroom from my pretzel position in his car bed. He was nowhere to be found, of course; as per usual, he had made his way into “the big bed” in the middle of the night—this time I think he was on the move around 2:30-ish—and proceeded to crowd me right off the queen-size mattress. And, as per usual, instead of being all tough and parental and kicking his 5-year-old butt back to his bedroom, I took the (admittedly well-traveled) path of least resistance—the one that leads up the hall to his unoccupied bed.

Good thing I did retreat instead of standing my ground this time, though; if I hadn’t slept in his room, I wouldn’t have heard that persistent noise, which sounded alarmingly like…

FUSKER!!!

No, I didn’t swear in my headline. But I’m definitely swearing in my head.

In my last blog post, I waxed rhapsodic over an event so heartwarming it renewed my hope in the human race. Heck, it was so great it almost made me want to go out and hug a Republican.

And then it all went wrong.

Go Big or Go Home–Or, Better Yet, Go to Your Lego Home

Great things are afoot. Magnificent things. They’re hiding behind a mask of silliness, but don’t be fooled—they’re nothing less than magical.

Out there in that wonderful place they call the U.K., a guy with really bad hair and only slightly better fashion sense is changing the world. Through toys.

Days of Wine and Cluster Flies

So this weird thing has been happening to me lately, and I don’t know if it’s because of the whole new networking deal going on (MyFace and TwitBook and all those things) or if it’s just because I’m in my early 40s and having a midlife crisis.

Whatever the reason, I find myself going back over previous eras of my life, reviewing them like a movie or a minseries I’ve seen a million times, watching one or two scenes, then leaving it for a while, then going back to it later and rewatching my favorite bits.

Or maybe I’m just losing my mind. Who knows. (As if there’s a difference.)