Monday, November 9, 2009

NaNoWriMo

Well, it's November again and time for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month).


I wasn't sure if I was going to participate or not, but on Oct. 31st, I found an old journal and was inspired by the entries to just go for it.


At some point in the book, I encapsulated in a thought bubble the words.. "a graceful upsidedowness."


"Hey, that can be the title!" I thought, and the rest is now emerging.


As you may know, the goal of NaNoWriMo is to write a 50,000 word novel within the month of November. Since that’s about 250 pages of type, the idea is to just write the dang thing! Forget the editing and fixing. In December you can go back and edit all you want.

So, dear friends, you’ll probably find more than a few major or minor errors. Please forgive me. I’ll keep editing to a minimum at this point.
Cranking out so many words in one month is a monumental task… but I wanted to share some of the goings on this year. And I’ve been wanting to post… so here we go…

  A Graceful Upsidedowness

I found an old journal I had been looking for the past few months. Funny, it was right where it was supposed to be, but I couldn’t find it. I looked in the same place several times, but it just wasn’t visible till yesterday. It was there all along, but I suppose I wasn’t really ready to find it.

You know it’s hard work being depressed, but I’ve had a lot of practice, I’m getting quite good at it. The journal, with entries ranging in date from November 2001, to what I wrote as 6-6-6. Interesting that I would even write a date like that? Nevertheless, the first two years of postings, mostly in poetic form, confirm my practice. I was in a very low place, almost as low as I am now. It was just a good practice round.

As I read through the pages, the pain and pleasure was all too obvious, at least to me. I wrote very clandestinely. Clever, many of the words, the drawings too… Wow, did I draw that? Did I write that? Who was that talented person, depressed as she may be, and where the heck is she now, when you need her?

The entries swing from depression and repression, through the total ecstasy of love, then back down again which is clearly noted on the sixth day of the sixth month of the sixth year. The final entry as follows:


Don’t try to be me. You’ll be sorry.
Too many trails traveled – too many times having to return—but each time a piece was left behind. There I am, in parts of woods and forests that most likely are no longer there. My little heaven’s now someone else’s business, skyscraper or backyard. I miss me. I miss my adventures. My hiding places.
There I am on sandy beaches, on rocky shores… ignoring all responsibility until the sun begins to set too deep and finding my way back would be a treacherous treat.
Lost and found all in one instant. Found in the movement, lost in the retreat.

No, do not try to be me – admire a small part if you must, but there is nothing left but long gone beaches, woods, creeks, forests and suburbs that never cared.

My mother cared that my shoes were wet when I came home—a tell-tale sign I had strayed way too far.

Please don’t be me. You will be sad.
That was the last “dated” entry in the book… yet there is one more writing. A final plea for that special place, that voice, the genius inside to find its way to the surface once more. It’s a recount of an event that actually happened to me when I was in my mid twenties.

The printing in the book is big, blue and bold, a not-so-neat version of my standard uppercase printing.
The most extraordinary experience with God I had was joining him/her. It was wonderful—ecstasy!
I came upon a white light so enormous—so huge. I was engulfed and I became a part of it – NO – I became “IT”—IT was me, I was “IT’—GOD! It was wonderful. I was a gazillion particles of the most brilliant white light. I was THERE. The whole time my physical body was totally aware of my surroundings. I kept repeating, “Oh, my God! It’s got me! Oh, my God!”I crossed over—however briefly, to see the first bit of heaven. I did not want to come back! It felt so good! An orgasm beyond description!
I wrote that story apparently to get God’s attention. The next paragraph is the plea…
Now, God, I guess I’m asking for inspiration. My poet seems to have disappeared. Writing – if I have to – so what’s the inspiration? Music felt good tonight. [I must have been playing the banjo.] I can study all their methods, but I still do it my way. My fingers have a mind of their own. It’s simple, just like my taste buds.
So again, I called for my talents in a six-six-six backwards way. The rest of the pages, not too many, are blank (kind of like me now).

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