When I feel like I’ll never be a real writer I remind myself that I write to make me happy. You reading what I write is just a bonus.
— Joe Hinojosa (@joehino76) October 21, 2014
There’s less than two weeks until NaNoWriMo 2014 kicks off. Am I ready? Um, sure. I guess. Sorry, I know I should be more pumped up, but there appears to be a slight wrinkle in my plan this year. Last week, my manager called me at home to ask if I would be willing to go overnight, beginning November 3rd, as part of the Inventory Prep Team. I agreed, not thinking how it would interfere with my writing. D’oh!
My writing is best in the evening, after I get off work and before I go to bed. The problem here is that my schedule is so erratic, I can never set aside a dedicated time to just sit down and pound on the keyboard. Makes writing so much more difficult. The silver-lining is that I will have a set schedule for six weeks, so if I can settle in, I will be able to dedicate an hour or two just to write everyday.
I haven’t given my story much thought, other than to decide what I’m going to write about. A story about a prostitute should be fun. It’s a family story, really, when you think about it. It’s the heartwarming story of a hooker with a heart of gold, just trying to make it in the city, with nothing but her hopes, her dreams, and her lady parts. It’ll make a wonderful Holiday film. I think Disney can bring it to life. Coming in December 2017, Giada and Her Wonderful, Magical Lady Parts. Kaching!
All joking aside, I do have some ideas for her. She’s a minor character in my first NaNo novel, a bit of revenge on an ex-girlfriend of mine that I absolutely loathe. There’s a reason I wrote her into my book as a prostitute, and I reason for everything that happens to her. The irony is that I fell in love with Giada. She has a youthful joy for life that I find irresistible. She’s the one character I love the most, so naturally she has to have her own story told, from her point of view.
I’ll try to plot the major story points before November 1st, just to have an idea of the big picture, but for the rest I will discover as I write. It’s going to be a long and trying month, but I’m ready for it.
I must be a glutton for punishment. Come to think of it, wouldn’t that make me a masochist? Digression aside, I’ve signed up for my fourth NaNoWriMo. Please, please. I’ll continue once the applause has subsided.
Okay? Good. Yes, once again I’m throwing my hat into the writing arena, and I’m excited to be doing this again. I don’t know why I bother. In spite of my goals, I haven’t once published any of my novels, NaNo or otherwise. This year’s novel is a prequel to my first novel, The Son of the Father, written primarily from Giada’s point of view instead of Fr. Mendoza. I hope it works out.
I’ve won every year, and I plan on winning again this year. I’ve wanted to write this book for a while now, and I think this is as good a time as any to do it. Once I’m done, I want to rewrite that first novel, incorporating some suggestions a friend had given me in order to make it a stronger book.
Right now, I’m rewriting another NaNo novel, my 2012 book, which I’m now tentatively calling Jasmine, after my main character. I still haven’t found a suitable name. This rewrite has been easy going so far, but it will become fairly intensive soon enough. There are some major changes I want to make to the plot, which I hope will help improve what I have written.
I had wanted to publish this last year, but another friend took a look at it to proofread it. I’m still waiting for her to finish. It doesn’t matter now. I’m rewriting the damned thing now. Again, I don’t know why I’m doing this. I haven’t proven to myself that I will go through with my ultimate goal and put it out to be read by actual readers, but then again, if I don’t rewrite it, I know I never will.
So much writing to do. I think I need to get busy. I don’t know if I’ll have time to do much writing this week, but I’ll do what I can.
Today is Friday, and this is my last day off until next Saturday. I hate working long stretches. Hell, I hate working, period. No, let’s be positive. I have a job. It pays me a pathetic wage, but at least it’s in a currency that (still) has some intrinsic value attached to it. Tomorrow I’ll get off at a reasonable time, and I’m positive I hate working, period.
See? Who says I’m always negative? Silly people. Joking aside, I will have to work seven days, but then when I get off next Friday, I’ll be leaving immediately to Corpus Christi, a mere 654 miles (1052 km) away. That’s in no way exhausting. I think I need a nap.
Next Saturday, the family is getting together to celebrate my Grandmother’s birthday, so in spite of my whining, it’s actually worth it. She’s my last grandparent still alive. It would be nice to see her while I still have the opportunity.
I think we take family for granted, especially when they are involved with our lives. We get used to their being there, stalwart and true, the rock upon which a family is founded. Once they pass, it’s amazing how quickly the family goes their separate ways, each becoming the patriarchs and matriarchs of their respective clans.
Just think about the history they have, our grandparents, and great-grandparents, if you are lucky enough to still have any yet living. What have they witnessed? What were their lives like before they settled down? What family history do they know that will go to the grave once they pass?
I don’t want to come across as depressed, but it’s just a thought that crossed my mind. It’s scary how fast time flies by, and it seems to speed up with each passing year. I swear, I still feel like I should be in my twenties, but that old man staring back at me in the mirror likes to remind me that I’m not. I hate you, old man!
No point worrying about what will happen. Instead, come next Saturday, we will celebrate what we still have. Yes, we have suffered heartbreaks, losing members of our family. It’s both a joy and a curse to belong to a large family. My grandmother had fourteen children, and has lived to bury three. It’s sad, but we have to continue living in the present.
Why is it that I’m so brilliant in my mind that I am in real life? You know what, please don’t answer that. I really do not want to know. Seriously, it was a rhetorical device to introduce my topic of conversation, which is how I can create something so poetic when I’m nowhere near a computer, or pen and paper, and I’m stuck staring at a blank page when I am. Where does that creativity go?
I know, I’m probably not as eloquent as I think I am in my daydreams. I sure as hell not that great of a writer to begin with, but I try. I write what I feel at the moment, and later I can’t help but feel insecure about what I committed to writing. Is it good enough? Are you, the reader, able to understand what I’m trying to say? Am I just being paranoid? Should I just let it go?
I think I should just let it go. No point drawing you further into my craziness.