November 13, 2013

A Sudden Storm of NaNoWriMo

I would have liked to get caught up to at least the beginning of the current quarter but when I think about how busy my summer was, that's not going to happen.  As busy as it was, my summer didn't involve powerful emotions like those associated with the loss of a cat or grandparent.  Without those emotions to fuel the wood stove of creativity I find it more difficult to write about my own life.  In addition, NaNoWriMo has been sucking a lot of my time, energy, and words.  I still want to do justice to a recapitulation of my summer, though, so I'm going to postpone that tale until next week...  or whenever I get around to writing it.  Instead I'll just give an update on NaNoWriMo, post a sonnet and call it good for the week.

Here I am, in the middle of the second full week of 1667 words per day and I'm barely hanging on to the bullet train that is NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month).  This is my second year doing NaNoWriMo and my second year deciding on a story at 11:30 pm on October 31st.  It was a bit of a slow start but now that my plot has clicked in my mind things are moving along.  But I don't want them to.  Coming up with plot has never been a problem for me; where I struggle is in description and character development.  But trying to work on what I suck at can be problematic when NaNoWriMo's only purpose is to get words on the page -- a lot of them.  Whether they're total crap or not makes a rat's fart of difference but I as sure as taxes better make my word count for the day or things of a terrifying and inexplicable nature will happen.  So when it comes to deciding between sitting here for an hour struggling with a paragraph of description or blazing ahead and leaving the essence my story far behind, I choose the latter.  I have to remind myself that NaNoWriMo isn't just about writing a lot of words, it's fighting through a paragraph of description here and there; it's closing all seventeen of those YouTube tabs and opening up a blank document; it's, for one month, devoting yourself entirely to something most people would have to be crazy to do (oh wait...  never mind) while at the same time not forgetting to eat, do homework, go to your job, talk to family, acknowledge friends, etc.; it's getting better at the process of writing -- if not writing 50,000 words then maybe 35,000 or 3,000.  As long as new words are being created and a story is being told, I've succeeded.

Current Word Count: 20,394 

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Apart from spending time with family and friends, one of the things I miss most about Minnesota is a good ol' Midwest thunderstorm.  Living in the Seattle area ensures plenty of rain but very little thunder and lightning to accompany it.  Even though my first trip (of two) back to Minnesota this past summer was only for a few days, the storm gods answered my prayers.

The wall of wind hits first, shaking the trees to within an inch of their life.  Some can't handle it and soon many small branches and a few larger ones litter the ground.  Inside the house, looking at the chaos through a pane of glass, it's nearly silent; only the muffled rustle of one hundred thousand leaves brushing against one another as they whip back and forth and a faint whistle coming through the crack under the back door can be heard.  Then there's an intense flash of light immediately followed by a sonorous boom and the soft tinkle of dishes in the cupboard.  When I step outside the wind whips at my t-shirt, trying to whisk me away along with thousands of leaves that were too weak to hold on.  I stand firm, exhilarated by the darkening sky pierced by bent batons of light conducting the cacophonous roars of one hundred angry giants.  The wind soon dies down but is succeeded by a deluge of rain.  I stand under the overhang watching the rain fall in heavy sheets. Before heading back inside I step out from beneath the overhang long enough to get my hair just wet enough so that droplets of water can caress their way down the side of my face and the back of my neck.  Once inside, I sit at the kitchen table sipping a hot cup of tea and listening to the placid pitter-patter of heavy raindrops overhead and the rumble of distant thunder.



Summer Thunderstorm

Divine one blissful thunderclap so few
Allow to crash upon in silent waves:
Omnipotent applause. As here with you
I lie not even clouds obstruct my gaze.
Auroral lightning flash afore our minds
Moreover blinds excessive sense absolved
By ribbons of torrential rain and winds
Around us gust the only ones involved.
Immersed in tides far more than falling tears,
Now drowned beneath euphoric hearts entwined
Beyond tornados twirling fate in peaceful years;
Eternal dark dispelled by flames mankind.
Within this flood forever snug and warm
I watch this passing Summer Thunderstorm.



I can't promise anything but I'll do my best to get, at the very least, a recapitulation of my summer classes written for next week's post.  Until then, I'm logging off.  There's a story to be written.  Have a great rest of your week!  - NLD

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Unpublished material, ©2013 Neal Digre

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