Way behind my goal of 1,667 per day, or day 5 goal of 8,335.  The thing is I'm really excited about this, as Chandra calls it, parlor game, I just have not had the time to play. Most of my writing, well, ALL of my writing has been over my lunch hour and that is just not productive.

And, I'm excited about the novel itself. If I thought I was stepping outside my box by just participating in NaNo, I've taken a giant leap in the subject I've chosen to write. My stories are traditionally family-related. I enjoy writing about community, family, slices of life. So, if I'm going to write a novel in 30 days, why not go outside my comfort zone, why not take on a popular genre.

With that said, I'm writing a modern day monster novel. Yes, monster. And no, I'm not jumping on the vampire-bandwagon, that horse has been beaten well into the ground. My monster is, well, different.  She is mythical, familiar, and probably the last creature you'd expect to destroy mankind. Yes, She.

Why the monster novel? I admit to being a huge fan of Bram Stoker's Dracula and after reading Christopher Booker's 7 Basic Plots as part of a plot class last year, I became intrigued with the idea of writing an "overcoming the monster" story. Why not follow a basic, familiar plot structure?

So, I'm taking Booker's monster structure and running with it. Or at least, strolling with it, at this point. But, I'm excited in creating characters I am unfamiliar. I spent an hour establishing my hero: what does he look like? where did he grow up? what are his quirks? what haunts him?

Even more time on setting, location, and my three other prominent characters, including my monster. Or is it monstress? I already had a summary of the novel and synopsis from an assignment in the aforementioned class, but deciding details and watching these characters blossom has been, I hate to be redundant, but exciting.

Now, if I could just find the time to put Booker's outline to the test. Oh, and Tony, my monster is a monster. She will not be an erotically characterized seductress, she's a killer. A killer, plain and simple. I mean, isn't that what a monster is supposed to be. I've never fantasized about being seduced by a monster, and I don't plan to start now. So, my monster is a monster. There will be nothing sexy in the way she slaughters her victims. And, you will want her dead by the end of the novel, if not sooner.

465 words.

Hey, at least I finally started the novel process and I did the actual writing over my lunch hour in between bites of Smashwedge salad.

And so, NaNoWriMo begins.

Now I know that NaNoWriMo begins today and I'm officially one day behind in racking up the words, but today was also the 30th Annual Toy Run. This was our 5th ride and one of the best with perfect weather and a group of 18. We started at the VFW on 2nd and Douglas for a breakfast buffett of scrambled eggs and biscuits and gravy. We lined up around 11:00 at Lawrence Dumont, then headed over to The Stadium for after-breakfast beer. The bikes filled both parking lots this year, so I'm very interested in the final count. Last year there were 3,300 bikes. I'm betting 4,500 this year.

The Toy Run is such an amazing event. My friend Chandra interviewed Brad and I for an article she is writing for The Eagle. She asked what our favorite part was about the run. We couldn't find just one. It's the entire day. But, I guess the ride itself is the most amazing aspect. When those engines fire up at 1:00, I get goosebumps that remain with me until we drop off our toy. I sit on the back of Brad's bike, waiting our turn to pull out of the lot, watching as row after row after row of bikes head out with toys strapped to their bikes, bikers in Santa hats, bikes decorated with tinsel and lights. And when we finally pull out onto Maple it is incredible to see all of the people line up along the street. This year, the streets were filled with people, from Lawrence Dumont to Park City,  children waving, veterans giving us the thumbs up, peace signs, men waving Old Glory. The feeling is not easy to describe,  it is pride and humility, a greater sense of community, and joy, and peace.

And, when we arrive at the Coliseum and the Color Guard is at the entrance and the Salvation Army volunteers hug you, shake your hand, and thank you for your gifts, well, it is the best way to begin the holiday season.

So, yes we enjoy ourselves, have a few beers, hang out with friends, see people we haven't seen since the last Toy Run, but it's really that feeling we get during the ride that makes it all worthwhile. And it is that feeling, that hope, that I cling to all year long.

We figured wrong. From the start, things did not go well. Rigby was intimidated by the pup, had bouts of diarrhea, leaked urine, hid in her dog house. Completely stressed. But, we figured it would take a few weeks and soon they would be best buds. Well, I'm not sure they were ever best anything, but they did get along better, chasing rings and tennis balls, tugging at ropes, chasing each other around the yard. But, Rigby still was wary of the little rascal. Come to find out, she had every right.

Rigby has sustained a leg injury. A major leg injury. A rupture of her cruciate ligament in her hind leg. In human terms, a blown knee. When the vet gave me the diagnosis yesterday, the first thing I thought of: football and basketball players, sports-related injuries. What? The injury was caused by trauma. The trauma being a wiry pup clipping Rigby as they ran.

She became lame on Tuesday evening and it broke my heart to see her hobble about, whimpering every time her toe touched the ground. Unfortunately, we live in a split level home which means stairs, stairs, and more stairs. Guess we should have bought the all-ground level home five years ago. Rigby could not climb the stairs. Brad had to hook a towel around her hind end and while she scrambled up with her front legs, he held her hind legs up to move her along. This was the only way, after all she weighs 88 pounds.

I confess I don't do so well when Rigby is sick or injured. I'm one of those crazy moms that becomes hysterical and frantic. I'm figuring this is the reason the Big Guy thought it best I not have children. Who can blame him? Brad sure can't after my reactions the other evening. He was more exasperated with my antics than the fact that Rigby could not walk, "Brad, be careful...Brad, do something..Brad, don't touch her leg...Brad, you're hurting her..."

I know. Pathetic.

 So, we made a trip to the vet. I'd asked Brad to help me get her out of the house and into the car, since she was having so much trouble. But, Rigby soon began to figure out that something was going on. She'd been brushed, her leash was out...oh, was that the sound of the car keys? Could it be...yes, WE'RE GOING FOR A DRIVE!!  She hopped right into the car, injury forgotten. Imagine her disappointment when we arrived at the vet and not the park. But, she was still in good spirits. There's nothing like a drive to lift her spirits, her big nose and head hanging out the back window.

But, now she needs surgery and 6-8 weeks of recovery in which she has to be contained in a ground level room, no running, no stairs. No stairs. We may have to move. And, no Penny. The vet recommended we keep them separated for the duration of Rigby's recovery. This is not feasible. Sadly, Penny will have to leave. We contacted her previous owner to let him know the situation and he misses her so much, he wants her back. At least Penny's situation has ended well.

As for Rigby, I'll be scheduling her surgery soon, we'll be modifying the garage as that is our only ground level room, and prepare for 6-8 weeks of recovery. Oh, then there's the physical therapy. In the end, our free pup will have cost us $1,400 plus. Free? Right.

On Friday, Chandra and I met for a pre-NaNo lunch. There is nothing I enjoy more than lunch with a fellow writer. We indulged in great coffee, fine sandwiches, then proceeded to lay out our plans. We came to the meeting armed with our notebooks filled with questions, various notes, mine containing a summary or synopsis of my future novel. Can I tell you how much fun it was?

Both of us were concerned with "do we have what it takes?" I'm pretty sure we erased all doubt. At least for now. We both agreed that things could change greatly by the second week of November.After all, life always seems to get in the way of writing the great American novel. And how to deal with that life? Chandra is planning on purchasing groceries to get her through the entire month. One less distraction.

Me? Other than the synopsis, which I confess I've had since September 2008, I've really made no other adjustments to my daily schedule. I've found that the best intentions in easing life's daily distractions usually results in the ultimate crash and burn. I will still grocery shop in November and I need not remind you that November is the month for power-shopping. But, I'm optimistic considering that for the first time in many years, Brad and I are not hosting Thanksgiving. We merely have to drive to KC and maybe make garlic mash potatoes or sweet potato pie. No problem. Right?

And, lest I forget, there is that whole matter of taking comps. Oh, and handing in my thesis. And it's our 10th wedding anniversary and numerous family birthdays, and the beginning of Shocker basketball season...

Stay tuned for the eminent breakdown.

Not this year. Every street is touched by autumn's golden-orange-red palette. I actually enjoy driving down Kellogg. The idiot drivers don't annoy me as much against a backdrop of burning bushes.

And the sound. I love the rustling of the leaves, the crunch beneath your feet. It reminds me of walking home from school as a child, library books in hand; carving pumpkins, drinking cider, ding-dong door to door with plastic jack-o-lanterns in hand, circling items in the JCPenney Christmas catalog (those lists took months of preparation).

My house is filled with the scent of pumpkin spice candles, sandalwood incense, chicken tortilla soup, potato corn chowder, cornbread, buttermilk biscuits.

It is truly a season that is good for the soul and the senses.

Cuentos Del Centro was a finalist in the Fiction Anthologies category!

Fiction & Literature: Anthologies 

Winner:
Poetic Voices Without Borders 2, edited by Robert L. Giron 
Gival Press, LLC
ISBN: 978-1-928589-43-3

Finalist:  
Cuentos del Centro: Stories from the Latino Heartland by the Latino Writers Collective 
Scapegoat Press 
978-0-9791291-2-4

Finalist:
Dragons Composed by James Ferris
Kerlak Publishing
978-0-9823745-0-4

Finalist:
Little Stories by Jeff Roberts
Outskirts Press
978-1432727277

Finalist:
Randoms by Keith B. Darrell 
Amber Book Company
978-0-9771611-8-8

Other local writers who are also boarding the crazy train:

To Explain How I Got Here  

Oh, Hello There

TheWilson Triplets

 When I signed up I had to post a brief bio. Instead, I chose to make a statement or give a darn good reason for adding to the end-of-my-final-semester-study-for-comps-right-smack-during-the-holiday-season stress:

"As a short story writer, my hope is that the challenge will unlock the novelist within."

Or something along those lines. Either that, or I'll be spending Christmas in lock down.

I'm so fired up for this!

I'm thinking of participating in National Novel Writing Month, aka NaNoWriMo. If you click on the badge it will take you to the website and the description of this event.

And why would I participate? Why would I attempt to write a novel in 30 days? Why would I attempt 50,000 words during the month of November, especially when there is no big prize for the accomplishment. No monetary award. No publishing contract.

Because the one thing I find most difficult as a writer is just getting it on the page. All of it. I tend to write 4-5 pages, then read them, make some revisions, delete, start over...   I can never just let it all spew forth. Get it out first, worry about content, grammar, sentence structure, and continuity later.

My short story collection will be completed by November 1st, and I have an idea for a novel. So, why not spend November writing that idea. Getting it on paper. In 30 days having it in my hands to begin revision.

I'll be studying for comps on Nov. 21st, but surely I can punch out six pages a day. Surely. And if not, who cares. I don't flunk out of school. There's no penalty in missing the deadline.

And just think of the party I'll throw when I do meet that deadline. A novel in 30 days. Just think of it.

*****

On this day in 1930, William Faulkner published As I Lay Dying, one of my favorite books. Although some find the multiple narrators annoying or confusing, I feel it gives a richness to the book, the story, especially the voice of the dead mother, the matriarch.

*****

 I'm struggling in my Graduate Studies in Film class. I'm chalking it up to Senioritis. My last semester, my last class, so who really cares about the language of deceit or post-structuralism in The Usual Suspects  or the best way to interpret Moulin Rouge?  I don't. I honestly don't. Possibly if I'd taken this class my first semester I would be enjoying the discussion, enthralled by the theories. Instead, I'm fast-forwarding through most of the movies, watching the clock in class, and wanting to tell my classmates to shove their thoughts on narratology or what or how a movie means. Really.

****

I know for a fact that my coffee tastes better in my "Witches Brew" mug.