Day One: 1666 Words or Bust

It’s day one of the challenge and I have already discovered the first and best trick for avoiding work: the internet. How am I to sit here in front of my computer and type away when people are posting things on Facebook! And L.L. Bean has FREE SHIPPING on balsam wreaths handmade in Maine! And those holiday fitness vests they’re selling—will they make me eat less pie at Thanksgiving dinner? Will they make me want to run more or do yoga? What makes it a fitness vest, exactly? It makes me wonder who invents these things and how they get named. When we lived in FL there was this place called “Gentle Waters,” which sounds so nice and so friendly and makes you think happy, relaxing thoughts. Like tubing down a lazy river on a sunny day or a creek flowing over small rocky places. But no, no, no. “Gentle Waters” is a colon hydrotherapy office, a place where you get your anus and intestines rinsed. With a hose. And maybe the water isn’t leaving the hose at fire-hose pressures, but it’s going up there all the same and there go all my happy relaxing thoughts. Perhaps you can comfort yourself with different happy thoughts, such as “My innards are super shiny! And clean! You could eat off them!” But who wants that?

You may have already noticed that this is a plot-less novel.

How does one write a plot-full novel anyway? Do you just wake up one morning and say, “I shall write a story about bunnies that discover electricity and then take over the world.” And then … you do it. You get out your pen or your keyboard and bam--those bunnies have light bulbs and refrigerators and evil smirks, and before you know it there’s your book. Then someone reads your manuscript and thinks it's amazing and so a bound edition with a cover by a real artist is produced and then ... the movie offers start pouring in, as do the NEW YORK TIMES NUMBER ONE BEST SELLER reviews and bite-size, memorable quotes from other authors. And before you know it, Michael Bay is directing and HOLY SHIT THOSE RABBITS ARE AMAZING, LOOK AT THAT CGI and the movie makes one billion dollars even though it has no discernable plot and stars a vapid, busty actress with pouty lips and no actual talent. This is how it happens, right?

Thank God there's probably enough Halloween candy to get me through this. Probably.

Where were we? Plot-less novel. Right. Is it possible to write a plot-less novel? Well, Seinfeld was a plot-less show, right? I'm giving it a go, at any rate. My hope is that the daily act of writing will set free something worth keeping. And if it doesn't? Well, say la vie and hope to God I've developed a new healthy habit.

Four hundred and eighty words in. Time, I'm finding, passes slowly when I'm trying to fill a page. Suddenly, Everything Else sounds like more fun, including scrubbing toilets (which we all know is Less Fun). Maybe now is the time to attempt some story telling, or some truth.

I've been here before, at this computer, with these fingers, and something to say that's just on the tip of my brain. Snippets of things pop into my head all the time, and I think, "I should write about that." But I don't. I find reasons to skip it, to stuff it down, to keep it to myself. Because writing is just one more way to expose myself and what if no one likes it? What if no one wants to read it? Or worse, what if everyone does? Dare I say the things out loud that I have barely said to myself? And yet, I cannot shake the feeling that this is what I was born to do. That my voice, while not loud or always tuneful, may yet be worth adding to the chorus.

Until I settle on a theme or a genre or (gasp!) a plot, I think this novel will be more of a "novel." A novel idea, a novel approach, and a damned ADHD type of read. I will touch on the shiny things and perhaps dig out some of the notes jotted in journals over the years and expand on them. I will get my sixteen hundred words in a day, or die trying (this is where I hit my knees and shake my fist at the sky). All you fans of unnecessary drama? You're welcome.

Here's something I was thinking about as I was falling asleep last night (by the by, falling asleep took much longer than normal, because there are 50,000 looming words in my future and apparently I am full of dread).

Things I've Learned From My Husband's Dog, Catcher:

1. No snack is too difficult to reach, even if you have to also eat the backpack the people are storing it in.
2. Any time is a good time to chew your ass, but quiet moments in the middle of the night are best.
3. Going for a run around the neighborhood is as easy as bolting out the next open door. 
4. Coming when you're called is for chumps.
5. Cat food is WAY better than dog food.
6. Yes, those squirrels DO have it coming to them.

Things I've Learned From My Fat Orange Cat:

1. If you park your fat ass on the people's legs while they're sleeping, it's not likely they will fail to notice you when they wake up (IF they wake up, muhaha).
2. Staring will make your people a little afraid of you.
3. Yowling when you go into the basement to use the litter box is an inexplicable behavior that will keep your family guessing.
4. Make sure you're on the wrong side of every door. People need to exercise.
5. Learn the sound of the non-electric can opener and mysteriously materialize in the kitchen every time you hear it. Even if all that's being opened is a can of black beans--it never hurts to ask.

Remember, friends, this is all about quantity, NOT quality.