Writing. Some more.

I am waffling on whether or not to use November's National Novel Writing Month as a springboard for creating a disciplined period for my own nonfiction writing.  I know from past experience that 50K is a lot for me -- not in terms of words, but in terms of plot.  I just do not have the attention span to handle developing the coherence needed. I used to say that my previous foray into NaNoWriMo ended up with me simply proving that I could type 50,000 words in one month.

Remember Up? Remember Doug?  Yes.  Just like tha-- Squirrel!!!*

But... there are a couple of projects I have started/have been thinking of starting.  One is my long-delayed (I started working on the thing in 2005) trivia book.  (I know, it seems like a very long time, but there have been significant periods where I did no work on it whatsoever.)  As I am rather picky about what I think people might find interesting, it is not simply a matter of scanning the Encyclopedia Britannica for random pieces of information. It takes a lot longer to write than one might think, if for no other reason than the time it takes to research.

The other is a memoir of the past twelve years of my life.  I know it is self-indulgent, but I think I have some things going for me that might make it an interesting read, FSV of interesting.  Much of what I would write about I have not written about here.** I probably will opt out of this one, though, as I do want my family and friends to keep talking to me.

So, we'll see.

In any case, I have signed up for NaBloPoMo: National Blog Posting Month.  A much lighter commitment than NaNoWriMo, participants merely sign on to post every day to their blogs. There is no word limit.  Although you can start at any time -- as long as you post thirty days in succession -- I plan to officially start in November.

Oh, boy! You get to read even more of my ravings! Aren't you happy?




*We are having one of my children assessed for ADD, and the psychologist started listing behaviors common to people with the disorder, and I kept finding myself saying, "Yep, do that.  Yep, do that."  The most surprising one for me (because I had never thought of it as anything but normal) is the need to have at least some ambient noise (usually music, but often television) in the background to be able to concentrate.  It drives the Rocket Scientist up the wall.  We have the fan running all the time in our room, no matter how cold it gets,  because I have trouble falling and staying asleep in an entirely silent room.

** Of course, if I am completely honest with myself, I want to write this solely so I can write a chapter called "The Cherry Red Convertible."  It's not actually about cars at all, but I do love the title.