How to write a book in 19 hours & other wild stories ...
Thursday, October 24, 2013 at 8:11 AM What follows is a roughly unedited version of today’s morning musings. Wish I had time to say more, but I’m off on an adventure. Today I’m joining 180 other SoulCollage© facilitators at Hood Canal for a weekend of alchemy. Thanks for reading!!
This is a test. A test to see how many words I can write in fifteen minutes. I woke up this morning with a plan… a plan for Nanowrimo (National Novel Writing Month), except it's not a novel. It's my pilgrimage story. I need to re-read lots of books for voice. "Dance of the Dissident Daughter," "Eat, Pray, Love" and the other one about fierce landscapes. I have so much to say. I'm not sure how I feel about typing out my feelings. I work better with pen and paper first. So another test may be necessary. A test where I see how long it takes me to type what I've written.
I know there's a story here. The story of growing up in Oklahoma where travel included popping me into the backseat of the car, giving me a not-so-healthy dose of Dramamine, and hauling ass across half a dozen states where I would wake up to see the beaches of San Diego, everything in-between a blur.
I do remember, however, the time I stayed awake. I think I got to sit in the front seat when it was just my mother and me. I must have been a little older - maybe 12 or 13. I think this was the trip where we went to Disneyland, because I was wearing makeup at the time and left my whole makeup bag in the restroom of the hotel. While it only took me a few minutes to remember I'd left it, when we returned to inquire about my makeup, the room had already been cleaned and the staff had no recollection or knowledge of the missing cosmetics bag. This only served to confirm my mother's horrific bigotry that Mexicans couldn't be trusted. But I digress...
I remember that I must have been sitting in the front seat of the car because I was reading billboards and everyone (including myself) was convinced that I couldn't read anything while in the back seat (thus the Dramamine). One more thing before I move on... I should probably tell you the story of why and when my parents started drugging their young daughter.
For some reason I think it was around Christmastime and we were driving my aunt and grandmother back to California... actually I think it was only my aunt. We were all in the car, my dad, mom, sister, brother, aunt and me. I had to be under 5 years old because my sister, Dianna, got married when I was five. (She was 14 years older than I). So, it was my parents and my two siblings and my aunt. I was squeezed into the corner of the backseat next to my dear auntie who was a woman of considerable stature - in more ways than one.
If you can think of those movies or pictures where the guy has his face squished on the glass of an overcrowded phone booth, well, that was me. Except I was a three year old girl and my head was smushed against the inside door of a Ford. Tucked beneath the door, my aunt, and the back of my father's head, I couldn't' see a thing. I also seem to recall it was dark and late at night. At least it was dark.
My dad became a long-distance truck driver a few years later and I wonder if these drives were part of his motivation? He loved to get in the car and go until we got there, wherever there was. No stops, except for an occasional truck stop for gas and a potty break. I was definitely raised with the mantra "Try to go, even if you don't think you need to." There was no excuse for stopping to pee when you'd had a perfectly good chance 100 miles back. By the way, I also know how to pee in a coffee can in the backseat of a car. This skill was learned while going to drive in movies. (Fifteen minutes = 665 words).
According to this test, it would take me roughly 19 hours to write a 50,000-word book. Easy peasy, right? (Pardon me while I roll around on the floor hysterically laughing.)
Nevertheless, I’m going to ponder this story, this test, and this plan over the next several days (while I’m madly trying to wrap up my 4th draft of last year’s Nanowrimo novel before November 1) and see where it goes. Wish me luck!!
By the way – I am just a little bit curious to know what you think of my plan. Care to join me for a wild month of novel (or not) writing? Will you cheer me on? Get in line for a copy of my book(s)? Consider checking me into a mental ward?
NaNoWriMo, Writing, pilgrimage
Reader Comments (4)
I have few qualifications to comment on "writing." However, I enjoyed the wealth of memories you evoked in me from your 15 minutes of writing. I am qualified to comment on the trips. I LOVED them! I think I was the only person in the family who did. I was usually sick by the time we arrived, but it never bothered me. It did take a toll on everyone else.
I don't remember ever carrying Auntie with us. However, your description is so credible, it must be true (except for the Ford, it must have been a GM product!). Auntie would snarf down piles of food and use saccharin in her coffee, which I assume was her gesture to cut calories in order to control her "stature." Fortunately, I was never smushed into a corner during the trips.
Hmm, 19 hours to write the novel. Easy peasy indeed for that part! It's the additional 2458 hours doing the editing, revisions, choices of presentation, ..., that might be discouraging.
Write on, Intrepid Soul!
I loved this post and was lol for most of it and double giggled at our bro.....thanks to both of you for my sweet dreams tonight. I just hope they don't include the time we drove across during a cricket plague....crunchy times at potty breaks! I'm w Dave regarding the writing rewriting etc....I thought it was a great read before you started dissecting it. Hope I still do :)))))). Xoxo
Me lol too! :) Wish I'd known/mastered the pee-in-a-coffee-can trick when I was sitting by the freeway at Vantage waiting for the tow truck for an hour & a half a month ago! I'll gladly cheer you on & buy copies of your book for me & my friends... But join you for a wild month of novel writing? Hmm......
Two things:
You were a CUTE kid!
And, "Pardon me while I roll around on the floor hysterically laughing." This makes me smile, and want to roll around on the floor hysterically laughing with you.