Frustration over Fiction, something different, and aches

There is a definite need to break away from the crap going on in my life. This morning I woke up feeling so awful. Aside from this being a fibromyalgia flare up day, my body hurts on top of that due to having to have my legs propped up for most of yesterday. They were terribly swollen again. My head hurt, even my eyelids and eyes hurt. Sometimes I wonder if I feel this bad at 33, what the hell is 43 or even 53 going to be like and that just opens to the door for my depression monster to come for  visit. I've had enough of that bitch. 

So despite feeling terrible, I drug myself out of bed, got dressed, and stepped outside for a smoke- because I'm apparently still doing that- for the time being. The landscape guys are out mowing the lawn, a thing I detest because I am allergic to pretty much all grasses, and generally tend to itch even with my allergy meds. Thankfully they had already been out front and were mowing elsewhere. As I leaned against the metal carport column, I relaxed and actually smiled. I'm not a big fan of bright sunshine as I have light sensitivity, but it is a fucking gorgeous day out. The air is crisp, has that early morning dewy scent. The birds are out, excitedly chirping and flitting about for the insects stirred from the lawnmower. I think we might have a hawk's nest in the tall evergreen that sits at the apartment complex entrance. I've seen it flying and watching, hunting near there and coming in and out of the green branches. The chill in the air was a bit invigorating and woke my sluggish brain up a little more. It reminded me of how much I would like a porch swing in my someday backyard. I want to curl up in the shade, slowly rocking, with my eyes closed and just be. I used to lay on my Great Grandma Ireland's porch swing with my head in her lap. She'd chat with my Grandma or sing me songs or tell me stories and we'd slowly rock back and forth. Those were probably some of the few times anyone could ever get me to sit still as a child.

But, moving on.  

It's getting to be that time of year again- National Novel Writer's Month, which thankfully is in November. A couple of my friends are already signed up and gearing to begin the adventure of 30 days of word vomiting 50,000 words to make a novel. That sounds gross, but when you're writing a first draft of something on a time limit, you're pretty much letting your fingers fly over the keys with the intent to just expel the ideas, story, build the world, and characters in such a manner as to get it out, then pick up the good stuff and shed the crap later. The experience can be frustrating, exciting, and surprising in a somewhat self satisfying way. Or you can look at your draft at the end and groan and wonder just what the hell you were thinking. Still, after 30 days, you will have written more or less than 50,000 words and that is an accomplishment all on its own. 

This year I'm not sure if I will be participating. There is a part of me that says, "no, it might actually be too much". But the other part says "go for it and actually push this shit out". I've "won" NaNoWriMo several times in that I've completed 50,000 words in a month or less. However, nothing I have done within that time frame has ever been finished. Which is a problem for someone who would love to realize her dream of being a full time published author. 

I told the few friends in my immediate vicinity that I would like to try to do this, to finish something, this year. They are supportive and those that are participating in NaNoWriMo think I should join them in the month long endeavor and we've discussed having write-ins together. A write in generally consists of snacks, coffee and tea, light chatting to bounce ideas off each other, and most importantly writing. Sometimes the writing doesn't happen, but that's okay too. However, with not knowing if I will have to move, trying to knock out 50,000 words might be a problem. So, I told my friends that if I have to move, I can't do it this year. If I don't have to move then I am 100% game. 

But there is another problem. I have several novels to write. There are a couple that I have been working on for years, ones that I have rewritten or restarted because my writing has changed and evolved and I am not satisfied with the story. So, I'm not sure what to write. Which do I pick? 

I confess there is some fear in choosing. What if I fuck it up? What if the characters aren't believable? What if I need to buy commas and can't get away from a certain tense? Dangling modifiers love me. What if when Amanda reads it or I read it to her, she says "that's good, but where's your plot"? Stupid confidence crushing fears. I need to just pick one and go, get it out, and then pick up the pieces after. 

I think to help me pick, to help me decide, I'll spend some time with the things that inspire me. Anime, movies, other novels, music, and even art, all these things help ignite and foster ideas through my emotional connection and reaction to them. The piece above is one such source. I love it, I want t add that sense of betrayal into one of my stories and I already know how it will happen. The scene is already formed its the getting there that's holding me back. 

I could go on, but I'm starting fall asleep. A short nap is in order, I think.