Saturday, April 20, 2013

Weekly Update: 4/20/13

Caring for my cancer-stricken Grandma was less difficult than watching my mother cry.  I don't know why that is.  Except when she's in pain, my grandma seems cheerful and relaxed, albeit lazy.  My mother's emotions seem more intense.  I can't imagine losing a parent myself.  Or dying.  I find myself observing closely, storing memories for a day (hopefully far in the future) when I may have to crack them open for my own benefit.  In the meantime, I try to be as comforting and accomodating as I can be.

Miraculously, I kept afloat of my writing.  I completed my poems for the week and added 15,000 words to the rough draft of my second novel.  I wrote whenever my grandma napped or any other sliver of time I could find.  My writing went slow, but it went.  I'm grateful for that.

I'm surprised I've been able to churn out so many poems.  In college I could hardly write a poem a week.  I'd delve deep into my soul, and after two weeks, my soul would run dry.  But this month, I found a way around it.  I just don't write about myself.  I make up stories or jot down observations or play with language--but I don't cut a vein and drain my life's blood onto the page.  Why should I?  That's not the kind of story I want to write.

Three weeks into NaNoWriMo, and most of my March Brainstorming Notes are now useless.  The story turned while writing.  The plot went wild on me.  I don't consider it a bad thing.  I like it when stories get a mind of their own.  I like it when they go in unexpected ways.  Oddly, when this happens, I see all sorts of interesting connections start tying together.  The story seems to know where it's going, even if I don't.  I hope that's the case.  I have one week left to write up an ending.  Let's hope the muse continues to follow me.

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