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NaNoWriMo update: 9410 words so far, and behind on my writing.

This is what happens: life gets in the way of living. Turns out I have a bronchial infection. No wonder I was so tired for a couple weeks, then the coughing, then the real tired with the owies and the coughing… and because why stop there, we have an infestation of pupating larvae of wool-eating moths. My wool! My lovely sweaters and knitting! Had – the exterminators came today. So I spent the whole day Sunday bent over in the attic vacuuming and getting everything the hell out of the upstairs. Did I mention it’s the bedroom? (That was not a pleasant way to wake up.) It will take me at least a week to wash EVERYTHING. Except the woolens, because they can’t be washed and dried (if you want them to maintain the same size they went in as). The wool needs to be frozen for 48 hours to kill the buggers. I do not have a freezer that large. So I will have to wait for the temperature to drop to below freezing for two days straight. Never have been so eager for it to freeze.

This weekend my mom celebrates her birthday – Happy Birthday Mama! And my friend and writing companion celebrates finishing/passing her prelims – Congratulations Sofia! So there is good news with the less than ideal news. (But I have no energy to bake cakes, that makes me sad.)

And, I’m done writing the the scenes that I had in my head, so the easy writing is completed. Now comes the work work part of the month. Yeah. Exactly why I signed up for this challenge: make the generative part of writing happen, force it, do it, push through regardless of the frustration and the uncertainty and the insecurity. The stuff that makes the writing good is, interestingly enough, the stuff that makes it difficult to write in the first place. Because the issues and emotions that are difficult but I’ve come to terms with, those aren’t the ones that motivate me, they aren’t the reason for the facial tick, for the tap tap tapping of feet or fingers drumming, or the reason the dishes really need to be done right this minute. No. The motivators are the issues I’m unsure how to approach or the ones that piss me off so much I don’t even know where to begin. Overload. But these are exactly the issues that need to be discussed, explored, written, felt, shared.

(tiny voice) But I don’t want to.

It doesn’t matter. Keep writing.

Does this look familiar? This is why art is vital to culture and to the human condition. Writing makes us human. Writing and reading. And I use writing in the most general sense: it includes any form of story-telling. Writing and reading make us more human. Better humans. They connect us to ourselves, to a larger whole. They allow us to grow and experience feelings and thoughts we might otherwise be unfamiliar with, or feel overwhelmed by, or disoriented or isolated…

Really writing and reading are not separate like the use of two distinct words might have you think. It’s not unlike breathing; breathing out is writing but you need to breathe in too, and that’s reading, and you need breathe more than just once, so you breathe out again and that’s reading, and you need to breathe in again and that’s writing… Breathe a lot my dear friends. Don’t stop.

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