A Brief Summary of November

So November passed, with good times and bad.

On the bright side, I completed my NaNoWriMo.  The brainstorming really helped me.  I ended up with 54,000 words, 4,000 words more than necessary.  Part of what kept me going was a bit of competition with other writers and seeing the chart on the page inch up with every few hundred words added.  Yes, there were also times when I got swept up into the story, when I needed nothing else but sheer inspiration.  For all the times I got stuck, I had word counts and graphs.

My aunt joined in the fun, though she wrote poems, and we had little adventures in inspiration.  We went to the arboritum, to the park, to Huntington Library.  We even went to Disneyland as a reward.  But I do have to admit, when I finished, I felt rather glum.  Yes, I had finished, but it was hard work, harder than I expected and I was sort of disappointed I'd only finished NaNoWriMo and not more.

Now, before you throw knives and pitchforks at me, I have this to say: I only worked twice this month as a substitute, meaning that for November, NaNoWriMo was my employment.  And 3 hours a day, 5 days a week seemed like too little work.  But that could also be my perfectionism talking.  Whenever I accomplish something, I end up with a teaspon of guilt.  Either I didn't do enough or I didn't work fast enough.  There's always something a little wrong.

 Like this blog.  I tried to write a few articles for it, but somehow, it didn't work out.  Maybe I just don't know what the point of this blog is or who is reading it or who will ever read it.  Nonfiction isn't my strength.  I don't do it well.  Why bother?

Sorry.  My writer moodiness is coming out.

I got a further three rejections this month, two on the same day.  This is discouraging news for me, but (possibly) good news for you.   I'm going to post one of my stories online for you to see.  Perhaps I'll get some comments on how to improve it for publication. One can hope and dream.

The Anxiety of the Substitute

This fall, I took work as a substitute teacher, and just last week, I started getting called in.  Although I've only subbed for two days now, teaching isn't all that new to me.  For three years I worked as a teacher's aid in Japan, forced to perform English sentences to unknown audiences at the beck and call of the real teacher.   Sometimes I'd go in with no plan, no script, and I'd have to create a lesson off the top of my head.  Working improv is nothing new to me.

That doesn't lessen my stage fright.

Somewhere between 5:30-7:30 in the morning, the dance of dread begins.  Will I get called in?  My ears tense for the sound of my phone's generic ring tone, knowing only entity would call me so early. Will I get an assignment?  Do I want to go to work today?  I know if I get called in, I will work, I must work, not just for the immediate paycheck the day brings, but to build my reputation for the future.  Yet another part of me just hopes that the school will leave me alone, so that I can spend my free time writing.

Three times the phone did ring.  The first time, I hesitated, fumbled with the buttons in the dark, and completely missed the assignment.  The second time, I heard the assignment, wanted it repeated, but accidently hit the button for accept.  The third time, I was ready, but right before I hit that button, a surge of panic filled my soul.  It became a struggle to press 1.

The next three minutes, I ran around the house hyperventalating.  While the sensible part of my mind told me to arrange a ride with my aunt, pack my lunch, and find out the specifics of my assignment online, the emotional side of me was busy whipping myself into a frenzy.  Oddly, I couldn't tell you over what.  I was afraid.  Not of teaching, I'd done that before.  Not of high school students, I'd worked with them and didn't find them to be monsters.  What I was afraid of was nothing.  The big, black wall of nothing pressing up against my eyes.

The unknown.

I think if I were in one bad scenario, I could solve it or endure it.  But my mind wasn't spitting out one, it was spitting out 20 and demanding I solve them all at once and think of new ones and solve those as well.  Now!  Hence the panic.  But the funny thing was, once I got to school, once I saw the physical buildings, the panic left.  There was no more time to prepare.  There was only action.  Moreover, there was something familiar about the campus.  I had never been to this school, but I'd been in others, taught in them, too.  My experience hardened over my chest like a breastplate and I walked inside the office calm and alert.

Parts of the day were tough.  Sometimes I was frustrated.  Sometimes I was uncertain.  But I wasn't afraid.  The situation, good or bad, had become solid, and once solid, I could adapt to it.  I trusted myself again.

The phone call was the worst of it.