Aging?????? Who, Me?

It was a terrifying, wake up in the middle of the night sweating conclusion that brought me back to this dusty, underused blog (and I am very sorry for my absence).

I only have one more year left to utilize this blog without being a dirty liar (and losing some of my marketing appeal). Because in a month and one day, I'll be nineteen.

NINETEEN.

I have one more year left to claim that I am in any way, shape, or form a teenager. (Although this has gotten considerably more difficult now that I am of legal age.)

I think it is typical of most young people, from this decade or from decades past, to think we have endless amounts of time ahead of us. Immortal, ageless, blah blah blah. Truthfully, I never thought I would be one of those young people. Despite being young, I generally have a pretty solid conception of time, death, and inevitable aging, which makes me the life of any party.

Somehow, probably because I associate being a teenager with being lazy, selfish, and eating things that are very bad for you, I never thought I would not be a teenager some day. I would live forever as a teenager.

I would ride as a teenager, and I would die as a teenager.

Well, that brings me flying back here, because I will not die as a teenager and more than likely, this year will be over even quicker than the last. So I better make the most of this blog while I still can.

I will be updating with my plans for my writing this summer as soon as I get out of work and my fingers thaw from the air conditioning.

(Don't expect me to ever grow out of being lazy, selfish, or addicted to junk food.)

Humbly yours,

Abby

Quick-- A Distraction

You know how time flies when you're having fun? Well, time rockets past like a first-time driver with a lead foot when you're procrastinating writing a blog post.
And procrastinating everything else.

I've started this blog post at least three times and then left and done something else. Every day, I told myself: get on ***** Blogger and write something witty and entertaining about your event-less life, you aimless leech on humanity*. Every day, it seemed more fun to shoot some mutated things in Fallout or mindlessly watch a Twitch.tv stream for a couple hours.

This post has literally been hours in the making, including all of the time I spent beating myself up for not writing it (and the three times that my computer has crashed and/or signed me out of my Gmail account in the middle of me writing).

My procrastination skills have been plaguing me for, basically, my whole existence. I've been doing homework on the bus since 4th grade. There have been few glorious reprieves when I am fully dedicated to a task, and one of those times has been somewhat sanely documented on this very blog!

That's why I want to do CampNaNo. The only time I have really felt the drive to write, like I would have been seriously amiss if I didn't sit down and bang on the keyboard until I reached a meaningless number, was when I was in glorious pursuit of 50,000 words clanging around in my mind.

I might be a horrible procrastinator now, but my resolve is strong. I am going to finish CampNaNoWriMo.

And, as a lighthearted aside, I'm going to attempt to update this blog on a regular schedule of Tuesdays and Thursdays. Every week. I'm sure when NaNo starts that schedule will be warped and broken and bent over a knee to be smacked, but I'm going to try**!

Lazily yours,

Abby

*I think I just made myself cry a little.
**At least then I will have something to write about, like the decline of my sanity and the horrors of starting a new scene when you still don't know how your stupid novel is supposed to end.

Falling, Then Crawling Back

Welcome to day three of NaNo. I have officially made it farther into the challenge than I did last year.

A mediocre achievement. 

Despite early challenges including, but not limited to: a mental breakdown, some crying, an entire day of non-productivity, and some hysteria, I have pulled out of my initial disappointment and Gotten Shit Done.

The first day, it took me four hours, including one that I spent convincing myself not to quit early, to reach the daily goal of 1,667 words. I shut my computer with a sigh after updating my word count to a measly 1,712. The second day, I didn't write at all. I had no inspiration and no time to sit and force words out of my reluctant fingers.
Which brings me to today, 3,000some-odd words in the hole when I woke up this morning. But I am happy to report that in just another 863 words, which I plan on finishing tonight because marathon writing can only last so long, I will be caught up and sitting pretty on a novel that is evolving from a mess to slightly presentable.

It still takes me an embarrassingly long time to write and focus, but I have found one unexpected boon: after going through several 'inspiring' writing playlists, I have found the single most productive playlist I've ever made. It's the Kanye West Radio on Pandora, with a Lil' Jon influence.

Sophisticated writing. 

I hope you guys are at least the tiniest bit entertained by my ill-prepared journey through this treacherous writing land, filled to the brim with the dragons of overwrought metaphors like this one. So far, the hardest thing is avoiding League. I have not been successful thus far.

Contentedly yours,

Abby

"Kind of Dope"

Greetings on the first day of NaNo, Blogosphere!

What the computer looked like when "Blogosphere" was last used

I am typing my report live from school, the place where dreams go to die and students go to catch up on the sleep they lost procrastinating homework. More specifically, I am typing merrily through Statistics class, where a discussion on bias is going in one ear, rattling around just long enough for me to look productive, and then taking its leave of my mind. The great thing is, I can blame this distraction on NaNo and deem it productive!

The subject of this blog post stems from my previous class, English (more specifically British Lit, most specifically Free Period). When I walked into class looking like a close approximation of someone about to lose their mind,

Heeeeeeeeeeere's NaNo!

wailed "It's beginning!" and slumped into my chair in preemptive defeat, my english teacher tentatively asked me what was eating at me. Naturally, this was a chance to complain about the stress monstrosity that is NaNoWriMo.
The natural questions ensued: "Can you start before?" "Does it have to be a novel?" "How many words exactly?"

And after a thorough if hysteria-tinged explanation, she calmly regarded by twitching features and said, "You know, that's kind of dope."

My English Teacher. Actually. (Also, my crown)

It is kind of dope, even if I haven't written a word yet.

NaNoWriMo is a chance to go productively crazy. November is full of the excitement of an over-full workload, of juggling writing with life and feeling like a warrior against the regular, non-NaNoing world. Beyond that, there is a wonderful community in place of people going through the exact same thing all around the world, with their own struggles and conditions but the same goal of 50,000 words.

And friends, it's pretty dope.

Excitedly yours,

Abby

Disillusionment- A Nicer Word for Being Lazy

This whiny post, much like the amount of people actually interested in this blog, comes to you in two parts:

Disillusionment

and

Resolve.

Disillusionment:

This is always the time I become disinterested in writing: at the actual writing stage. After all of the fun, and brainstorming, and oh-my-gosh-this-is-the-best-novel-ever-ing, I sit down, Word open, pumped, listening to my thought-provoking Simon and Garfunkel playlist... and divert my attention to League of Legends. Or the TV. Or banging my head against the wall.

"I hate my sidebuuuuurns!"

For some reason this always happens to me. I always get the greatest sparks of inspiration, but once that new-project sheen wears off I can't bear to look at Word without feeling immense stress and fear. Either that, or I just can't be bothered to allot writing time into my busy (read: League of Legends) life.
Maybe it's a sign that I shouldn't go into writing, but I'm not into signs much. Instead, I plan to force myself to write this ************* (child-friendly!) novel or perish by my own pencil trying. That's where this whole senior project comes in. That's where this blog comes in.

That's where NaNoWriMo comes in.

Resolve:

NaNoWriMo is the tongue-friendly acronym for National Novel Writing Month, which is the best way to raise your blood pressure since deep fried foods. The goal is to write 50,000 words for an original novel in a month, which happens to be November, which happens to be the deadline for most of my college applications.

People always misinterpret what I mean by "headbanging".

Moving on!

To add to the number of stress factors associated with this novel, I've decided to participate in NaNo. And, keeping with the spirit of NaNo, I've decided not to write a word of my novel until November 1st.

Insanity? Maybe. Laziness? Definitely.

There are three reasons for this*: 1) I don't want to start the novel right now, when I'm likely to write poorly and get frustrated, 2) I work much better under pressure, and 3) this gives me time to finish my college applications as much as possible in October so that I don't have to worry about them later.

However, don't fret, my sweet little duckling(s)!This doesn't mean that you're going to have to wait till November to read any of my writing.

Remember the thirty question survey? I'll be writing those throughout October, since I probably won't use any of them directly in my novel, and it will help me find my characters.

October starts tomorrow, so I better get a move on...

Tiredly yours,

Abby

* Like the number of crime dramas I have patience for, zero of these excuses are true. I'm just lazy.

Introducing the Next American Classic

Now that you've met the cynical, desperately witty and extremely good looking author (oh yes, all true, would I lie to you), it's time to pitch the plot. I'm not one for 98 mile an hour confidence, despite my good looks, so I'm just going to lob it at you. Got your catcher's mitt? Ready for this baseball metaphor to end?

The. Modern. Housewife.

Whew. Mind-blowing, I know.

Luckily for all of my devoted readers, and the future of this blog, and my senior year transcript, the plot goes beyond the banal* title. I'm actually quite excited about this one, which means if I don't end up making it I'll be pretty embarrassed about this post.

In theory, The Modern Housewife will be told from the perspective of a mid-thirties female narrator. Usually I hate first person, but since I'm inexperienced in characterization of third person narrators and it's easier to develop a voice in the first person, I'm probably going to give it a whirl. 

In theory, it will explore the similarities between the overwhelmingly sexist messages pervasive in the fifties that forced women who had just broken into the workforce during WWII to become housewives and the bias against working moms and successful women that exists now; not quite so overtly in the overall media, but definitely in the Republican party and moderate crowd. 

In theory, because a treatise on that subject would be extremely dull and no one would ever want to read it, the novel will explore that theme by following Ms. Mid-Thirties Female Narrator as she struggles to get out of a terrible relationship, quit her job as a nanny/baby-sitter or whatever the politically correct term is, and realize her dreams of... something. Her dreams are a work in progress to me. Maybe work for a magazine. Maybe become a stripper. There's an ocean of exciting possibilities to fish in. And I've always wanted to write a stripper. 

Now that the annoying exposition is over, we can get down to the real fun. The late-night angst posts. The real-time liveblogging at school. The long existential crises I expect to arise as the deadline draws closer and my sanity dwindles.

It's going to be a fun ride. Get in the car.

Threateningly yours and with a shoutout to Zoe,

Abby

*But good as far as my titles go. I still shudder to think of "The Murder of John- or was it Jake?" Thank god that rots away harmlessly in my Stories folder**. 

** Do you prefer parentheses or asterisks? I always feel like too many parentheticals remove you from the reading experience but asterisks might be just as distracting and harder to follow. I just have too many tangentials to explore and not enough room. 

No Turning Back Now

I've always had horrible timing. Many a time my frustrated piano teacher would force hours of practice with a metronome upon me to correct my out-of-step and wildly accelerating Easy Piano Classics. There's a joke among my friends about "Abby Time"; they all know that a text saying "I'm leaving now!" means they still have a good ten minutes before my foot steps out the door.

But all these domestic timing incidents merely served to distract me as I blundered into the worst timing mistake of my life: committing to finish a novel during my senior year of high school.

Historically, novels are meant to be written in the twilight of a well-lived life, or in the chaotic alcohol-infused twenties when schedules are flexible and nights are long (a la Fitzgerald; you'll be hearing a lot about him), or on the sly as a relief from a steady but boring job. I think there is a reason novels are rarely written in the stressful, confusing, and often panic-attack inducing days of high school.

I've begun a streak of taking reason out back and beating it with an oversized pencil. I can't think of any logical reason, for example, that I couldn't have put off writing a novel until college, or after college, or any other time in my life.

I really can't think of a logical reason I decided to commit so fully to this idea that a grade now rests upon its successful completion.

Despite much whining and wringing of hands, though, what's done is done. Despite never completing anything over ten pages, for my senior project in high school, I am going to write a novel of at least 50,000 words, design a cover for it, and try not to scrap the whole thing during the editing process (as I am wont to do). And I'm going to get an A on it.

And, in a masochistic twist that I think befits Fitzgerald in a fashion that pleases me, I'm going to add to my writing load by blogging about it- in full sentences and proper spelling and everything (gone are the Tumblr days)!

Hopefully yours,

Abby