NaNoWriMo Day 1
It’s been a while since I’ve posted, I know. I’ve kind of needed the time and space for myself. In this time, I’ve realized that I need to do this more often. Usually, I’m so focused on the things that I have to do in order to ensure a good future that I forget how important it is to live in the moment, that the present is a gift that we can’t get back. I mean, yes, it’s important to think about the future, but not when you’re forgetting about what’s right in front of you.
So, now I’m back, and I’m planning on blogging all month to make up for lost time. “About what?” you might ask. Well, November is National Novel Writing Month, AKA: NaNoWriMo. As much as I love writing, I don’t think that I am quite ready to tackle a whole novel (I’ve tried, and I kind of just tend to not finish). Instead of a full novel for the the full month, I think that little projects might work better. My idea is to tackle a different prompt everyday, that way instead of being overwhelmed by this big project, I can just take it one day, one little prompt, at a time. If I succeed at reaching the word count at the end of the month, great. If not, I will have thirty little snippets of writing that I could expand on if I want, and scrap if I think it sucks.
The plan is for me to find a prompt and write to it everyday. I’ll include a word count at the end, and the goal is to have fifty thousand words by the end of the month. Thinking about this is a bit intimidating, so I will just write and not keep track of my word count. Feel free to offer me constructive criticism, and also to share your writing with me. The best artists have always learned from others.
Today, I had the opportunity to attend a reading given by Nickole Brown, who was promoting her book of poems titled Fanny Says
. It is a true love letter to her grandma, and it inspired me (this is not an ad, and I have not been paid to promote this book in anyway). So my prompt is to write about someone who influences you. In this case, I am actually inclined to write about my grandma, because she raised me since birth.
NaNoWriMo Writing Day 1:
My grandma would always tell me that when I’m looking for a husband, look for the ones who aren’t good looking.
“It’s the good looking ones that will give you problems,” she would state with certainty. “Your grandpa— he was a handsome man when we were young. He would walk into town, and he would attract all these girls to him, like flies.”
I couldn’t help but smile at that. She grew up being jealous of the women that would flock to my grandpa. “But doesn’t that mean you were beautiful too?”
She would laugh at me. “On the contrary. I was always a mess! I actually had no idea how to get ready on my own. There would be times before we left to go out and he would ask me if I was ready to go, and I said that I was, to which he would ask why I had yet to change my clothes and do my make up. I had never learned to be beautiful, but your grandpa took care of that. Oh, whenever we would go shopping, he would always pick out the nicest things for me to wear. I, on the other hand, got more lost in the aisles of clothes.”
My brow furrowed quizzically at her. “Then how did you two end up together?”
“Oh, your grandpa was always a trouble maker.” I thought that this was ironic, since he became a cop at the end of his career. “He always got me in trouble. Back in Vietnam, we didn’t have washing machines and dryers for our clothes the way that you do here in America. I always was the one that took our clothes down to the creek for a wash. Your grandpa spotted me there one day, and he would come over for conversation. I wouldn’t talk to him very much, but he was insistent. He would stay until I finished, and then he would follow me home. At that time, my father did not want any of us even being seen with the other sex, because people talk. Your grandpa would always get me into so much trouble. After the day at the creek, he would always be somewhere near the house every day. My father saw him so often that I was in trouble on a daily basis.”
And yet, he won her over somehow. I’m living proof, because my mother was their youngest daughter. She likes to try to tell me all the time how she wants to be around long enough to see me successful in life, and to see me get married. I respond by saying that I dislike talking about death and that I’m not focused on getting married.
Word Count: 461 words