Dear Magically Real friends —

Well, two days into NaNoWriMo, I have written some of the worst trash ever. I have plot points that do not make sense. Accessories and accoutrements abound that have arrived too early in the narrative and that will not ever get employed again.  Assuming that I even remember what they all are and where they are located.  Characters whom I loved, and outlined, and planned to make heroic, sit on the sidelines begging to be added while I talk about the wonders of Pan’s Labyrthinth and house remodeling, while my father-in-law seems to be taking center stage as a point of view character.  Genders seem to change constantly. And so far, I have managed to reference, not one, but TWO Shakespeare plays.  And I’m not even 1/5 of the way through the thing.  If that weren’t bad enough, the ghost of a 60’s folk singer is threatening to invade the story.

But it’s all rather glorious.  It’s glorious, because this NaNoWriMo trip is Anne Lamott’s “shitty first draft” taken to the next, hyper, hysterical, level. Because you have to write it all super-fast.  So — not only must you not care how bad it is, you sort of have to love how bad it is.  This is an experience in anti-polishing, anti-crafting, and anti-geniussing.  It’s one big awful freewrite.  Except, you don’t get to put your pencil down and turn the page. You have to thrash around in the awfulness for days and days. Kind of like a pig in story-shit.

And it’s pretty fun so far.

A week later may feel less fun and more frenzied.  But so far, it’s a mighty swell ride (read wallow) through the junkyard (read slop) of (my) narrative ideas.

(Copyright, Stephanie Barbe Hammer, 11/03/12)