Soldiers for Christ

I’ve been speaking to a friend of mine almost nightly about some deep topics–you know, letting someone into some of those secret caverns people haven’t really gone in awhile. He spent years in the military and after I’d explained some of my feelings to him about my cult experience (and yes, cried, which I haven’t actually done in awhile), he shared some of his military experiences. It was sort of comforting to know that we related so well.

He spoke to me in particular about some intense combat training he received in order to keep him and his team hyped and going, running on adreneline and getting revved up easily. He said it served a purpose in combat situations because they’d be up for days at a time, operating on little to no sleep. What happened when he left the military and resumed civilian life was that he realized he could easily get really amped up over something and it was hard to mellow himself out or not find himself reactionary.

I could certainly relate. On a much smaller, less intense scale, there are similarities to my cult experience and some aspects of military life.

For example, when we joined we went through a few intense weeks where we were emotionally stripped of certain barriers and rights, and we were checked into dorms with a strict set of rules and guidelines to live by each day. Then, each day was regimented as if we lived in barracks (they were dorms) and we had dorm leaders coming in each morning and night making sure we were in bed and out of bed on time (on the dot), dressed in something suitable (our uniforms), in prayer (on the dot), at breakfast, cleaning up (to perfection), and so forth to a specific schedule.

Our training was not combat, but it was all about hype and getting prepped emotionally for a “spiritual battle.” We were soldiers for Christ and we trained like such. When a conference would come up, we’d spend a month prior to the conference fasting and praying intensely, on top of studying, marketing, networking, planning and rehearsing our performances. Our rehearsals were labor intensive, because we were putting on an entire production–a creative representation of Christ–and those productions could last for hours, but typically the conference success or failure landed on us so we were hyper aware of every detail from the sound equipment and microphones to the lighting set up and placement. At any moment, I was on call with the speaker information, his or her whereabouts, their car and hotel information and their personal assistant on the line, if needed.

We’d stay up for days on end before the conference getting ready for “spritual battle” and by the time the actual event rolled around, we’d be operating on very little to no sleep. Coffee and energy drinks became our constant companion, and so did the smiley-happy-hyped up Christian sales persona that we were known to be. We had to pull the smiles out because we believed what we were pushing onto these teens. We believed it intently. We believed we were at war for their souls.

Too Type-A or Innovative?

The innovation is going to come, and that is good for everybody. --- Hilary Rosen

I’ve been trying really hard not to go too type-A on my life. I was never that way, but then in the cult I was forced to read all these annoying business books, carry a Franklin Covey planner (back when we carried paper around), and be on time. I always failed. I was never neat, on time or organized and I never had a goal that didn’t revolve around someone else’s life. So I find it strange that my laid-back self has turned into a type-A nazi. I think it might be temporary just like my visit into whoredom was, but we’ll see.

I’m up early, working before work. If that’s not type-A enough, I don’t know what is. On top of that, last week I found myself sending people Excel spreadsheets to help with me a project. On Saturday I bought filing folders and labels with a plan to file all my 2013 tax receipts, just in case I’m audited. (It happens.) Of course some of this type-A-ness might not be cult related, it might be related to work, where I’ve found my niche of sorts and am constantly having to be well-organized and on time. I was forced to change in order to keep my job because you really can’t be all laissez-faire about company timelines.

But now that I’ve started blogging and love it, I’ve started other websites and other projects. In order to not get bored, I allow myself to dream and try to be innovative. There’s also a small part of me coming back that wants to help people, and I think I’ve found my other calling. Two of them really. Editing and teaching writing. Right now I’m working on figuring that all out, but it makes me extremely happy to find something I’m good at and love. Going hand-in-hand with that, I applied to an MFA program in creative writing and will apply to another one. If all goes well, Fall 2014 I might be enrolled in a program; however, I was so late on one deadline that I’m thinking of pushing it back to Fall 2015 just so I can apply for financial aid. Grad school is extremely expensive.

So at 6 am, I was up this morning, telling myself to go back to sleep until 6:45 but I couldn’t. I was excited and wanted to work on this new forum I’m creating that I’m keeping on the down-low for now. In the past month I’ve experimented with designs, different paid services and I’m deciding between two things right now. I’m ready to launch it but I haven’t found the perfect solution. It’s fun, being a type-A. Although I wonder if I’m really actually a type-A or if I’m just too easily influenced by others perceptions and others labels of me. I have a friend who sometimes projects on to me what someone else in his life was, so he’s labeled me a type-A inadvertently. If I were to define myself, I would call myself innovative and creative. I just have a lot of creative energy and action, which I didn’t have before I started blogging. There’s a lot more to it than just blogging–I started treatment for depression, as well, and after four or five years of treatment I’m feeling so much better. My entire life feels different. Is there a cure for depression? I don’t think so, but I do think there can be an improved quality of life.

I’m Over “Occupy Wall Street”

First, let me say, no one likes corporate greed or government greed but this whole movement is a bit ridiculous. I’m behind the concept and I think the police brutality is disgusting, but I’m over it.

Let’s Occupy Churches and Religion and fight the greed and power hungry bastards there instead. But let’s not sleep in parks and act homeless. Let’s blog about it, share news stories about abuse and corruption in churches and organized religion and be responsible citizens in who or what we listen to when we’re “taught” about “truth.”

#OccupyChurches #OccupyReligion

It’s Summer Vacation! Here’s Some Puppy Pictures!

I’m on my first vacation (stay-cation, actually) in a year. It’s much needed. I need sleep, too, but that’s not going to happen. A few weeks ago I adopted this cute thing. Her name is Olive.

Olive, the poodle puppy at 8 weeks old
Olive at 8 weeks old

Needless to say, puppies are like babies. Kittens are nearly self-reliant but puppies are a whole other ballgame. This morning was the first time I’ve slept past 5:30 in about 3 weeks. I can feel the normalcy slowly coming back…but not quite. I think I have at least a few more months before my sleep is back to normal. She’s worth it though.

Olive the puppy

I’m working on a writing project every day during my vacation so I’m going to be blogging less reliably. Check my Facebook page for updates, though. I typically post there often. Or you can join me on my personal Facebook page which is going to consist of Olive pictures and writing updates.

In the meantime, here’s some things to read/watch/do/hear:

Blogs: 

Olive’s blog (basically just cute puppy pictures)

News: 

The tiny island where men have their own language

Where in the world is it NOT okay to hold hands on your wedding day?

Books:

On Writing by Stephen King

Nowhere Near Normal by Traci Foust

The Next Best Thing by Jennifer Weiner

The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman

Movies: 

The Answer Man with Jeff Daniels

Friends with Kids

Music: 

A new song by Lorde, a 16 year old New Zealand singer-songwriter, Royals:

Lorde / Royals from joel kefali on Vimeo.

A new song by Nelly featuring Nicki Minaj and Pharrell, Get Like Me:

Writing: The hardest job West of the Pecos

Why are MFA programs so impractical? I don’t know. I think professors build their classes upon what their professors before them did and a lot of that means degrading genre writing and focusing largely on theory and art rather than becoming a professional writer. They do have a point in much of their tradition: great writers are born from studying great writers. Mediocre writing can be born just about any way.

Memories.

As much as I am a writer, I don’t want to write at all lately. Of course when I get lazy or uninspired, I judge myself and get sad that I won’t reach my self-imposed goals of finishing my own book. I will admit–I have wanted to quit writing this book since September and feel like life would be easier if I would. But it won’t. I know myself–if I were to quit, I would feel so guilty and not be able to sleep at night.

Instead of continually suffering, I decided to enroll in a few memoir writing classes this semester along with finishing the final two classes I need to graduate. I should’ve graduated long ago, and would have, but that’s a novel so I’ll refrain from telling the story here.

For years, I have debated with myself over whether I need an MFA to complete my book (an explanation for non-writers: an MFA is a two year graduate program focused solely on producing a book-worthy manuscript that’s been peer reviewed and reviewed by professors and mentors. The chances of getting your manuscript published after an MFA program seems to be higher than doing it the good old fashioned way, judging from my observations, although it’s not a certainty and the more I’m observing I realize many writers don’t publish immediately after their MFA is complete) and whether I could afford an MFA. An MFA (Master of Fine Arts) degree is an expensive one and they are often located in areas of the U.S. that I don’t want to live and where my job is not located.

Meanwhile, until my inner debate is finished, I’ve decided to take a few classes locally. I’ve heard a lot of good things about the UCLA Extension writing classes (UCLA does not have a traditional creative writing program) and there aren’t many options when it comes to creative writing (it’s not as popular as science or business, so classes are limited). A few friends have had great professors and gotten a lot of good writing and instruction from full courses or weekend courses. I’ve signed up for one weekend course and one full course, although I’m not sure how I’m going to balance it all this semester (with work, plus two traditional courses, plus these). If all else fails, I’ll put them off until this summer or next fall, but knowing that they are there and very close makes me feel good.

Speaking of next fall, I’ve started my application process to two graduate writing programs despite not being entirely sure if I can afford it. I’ve decided to apply and see if I’m accepted (first) but since almost all of the application deadlines for Fall 2013 have passed, I have to act now to actually reserve a place in these two programs who are still accepting applicants.

My main deterrents to applying to MFA programs prior to this were two things: 1) Most MFA programs are very impractical (teaching mostly theory and very little on how to actually make money or how to get published) and 2) I would likely have to give up my job and move which would make it financially impossible for me to attend. MFA programs typically frown upon genre writing (or writing that is commercially successful).

I was supposed to apply to one program last November and it was a program I wanted to attend years prior, but the more I started looking at the theory-heavy coursework I started dreading the idea of getting my master’s there and getting into that much debt. I knew I would clash with some professors (because of my non-traditional view of what the MFA should be) and didn’t want to spend two years and a hell of a lot of money doing just that. So, I didn’t apply and stopped researching programs for the time being until I figured out what to do. After all, I couldn’t attend a graduate program until my classes were finished and it didn’t look like I would get all the paperwork in in time. (As it turns out, I did!)

 

Only a few months have passed but the writing has not gotten any easier. I have written some pages I am very proud of and I feel like I’ve found the voice and am framing my story very well, but I’m back in the same spot again, wondering if I should go back to school to finish this damn manuscript and knowing that I did really well writing in a workshop environment. (Again, for non-writers, a workshop is where you share your written work with fellow peers and they go page-by-page pointing out strengths and weaknesses. It’s the standard way writers get their work edited before we have agents and publishers and all that.)

Why are MFA programs so impractical? I don’t know. I think professors build their classes upon what their professors before them did and a lot of that means degrading genre writing and focusing largely on theory and art rather than becoming a professional writer. They do have a point in much of their tradition: great writers are born from studying great writers. Mediocre writing can be born just about any way. Also, most writers want to teach writing so the MFA is suitable for teaching after the program is over. I do think great writers are made partly by focusing on the art of writing and devoting hours of study to great masters before us, BUT no MFA program should be entirely focused on this especially to the point of neglecting the real world, the publishing industry and industry trends toward commercial work.

I found the following great interview with Tod Goldberg the other day while searching for a low-residency MFA program and what Tod says here is what I have been saying for years. Of course, that means I’ll be applying to his program. If his words here are any indication of his classes, I have to admit, I will feel it worthwhile to attend.

Caleb J Ross: You said something at last year’s AWP which stuck with me. Paraphrased, of course, you said that you teach your MFA classes like an instructor of any trade program might, with the end goal of providing financial opportunities for the students. This seems like a radically different approach than most MFAs which may instead focus on non-definable, creative signposts to gauge student success. First, am I expressing your idea correctly? Second, how is this goal compromised by a low-residency program, if it even is?

Tod Goldberg: Pretty close. Essentially my philosophy is that if you’re in an MFA program, your goal isn’t to become the most well-read person on earth with a handful of literary quotes at your disposal at all times, it’s to be published. It’s to be produced. Graduate programs in creative writing are some of the few that seem entirely esoteric because they don’t seem to be training you for anything tangible, apart from maybe being a particularly enlightened barista, because, well, that’s frequently the case. But I think that has to change. Being a professional writer is a job. And if you want to write books, or write screenplays, or write poetry, simply for personal edification, you certainly don’t need an MFA program to do that. But if you want to become a professional writer, I think an MFA program can and should be a clear stepping stone in that direction. Most aren’t. Most entirely eschew the idea of life after the MFA — in fact, most programs tend to herald your acceptance into the program as the “making it” part of your writing career, which is silly. It’s school. It’s what you do afterward that makes a difference. So in that light we talk about publishing and production a great deal in the program I run at UCR, about the difference between being workshop-good and publication or production good. We have agents and editors and film producers and studio heads that come in an read our students work and give them a real world idea of where they stand. And our professors are doing it, too (no one works in the program in the professor who isn’t still publishing or producing).

I got my MFA late in the game — I’d already published 5 books, countless short stories, sold several projects to Hollywood, written hundreds of pieces of journalism and was actually directing two MFA programs at the time (before going to strictly a low residency MFA, UCR Palm Desert also had a part-time traditional MFA program, too) — when I went to get my MFA from Bennington, so I feel that I have a unique perspective on this. Clearly, I didn’t need an MFA to be successful. But my experience with one particular professor at Bennington, Lynne Sharon Schwartz, opened my eyes regarding how to become a better writer, how to build on what I did well already, and that alone was worth the price of admission, and I believe that comes from that mentor/mentee relationship that low residency programs foster.

So I don’t think this philosophy of mine is hampered in the least by low residency program; in fact, I believe it is the best avenue to pursue this line of thinking. Being in a low residency program mimics the life of the professional writer. You’re probably balancing your writing with another job, you’re probably also writing some stuff like book reviews on top of your creative work (or doing coverage if you’re a screenwriter) and you’re probably at home on the weekends, up until late in night, in your underwear, typing.

(Excerpt from Caleb J Ross/AWP Blog. Read the rest of the interview here. I highly recommend it.)

 

 

Information from around the web on MFA programs: 

Association of Writers & Writing Programs (AWP) (I’ve always found their information useful.)

Bennington College (A low-residency program I’ve heard great things about.)

Vermont College of Fine Arts (Another low-residency program I have heard good things about.)

The Atlantic’s Five Top Low-Residency M.F.A. Programs (Take it for what it’s worth. I don’t know that I would rank Antioch very high, at all.)

2012 MFA Rankings: The Top Fifty (Poets & Writers Magazine) (I use this as a guide to what programs exist, not for their ranking system)

Why the Poets & Writers MFA rankings are a sham (a Columbia graduate scolds P & W for ranking his alma mater lower each year due to their very high tuition)

Boys & Dating & Anxiety

I think people like me shouldn’t be allowed to date. I have the worst anxiety when it comes to meeting new people–and my expectations are so high. I’m such a fucking sappy ass–I just want my relationship to be springtime in Paris, with puppies and raindrops on roses…and even if you think something is going perfect, in a relationship (even the brand new ones) it doesn’t matter what YOU think is happening–things must be mutual and sometimes the other persons interest, or lack of interest or fading interest can fuck up my perfect little springtime fantasy (like when you have sex with a guy and then he checks his OkCupid account when you’re lying in his bed naked….that. And then your best friend tells you how stupid it is to sleep with someone on the first date, or 2nd date and how that’s not any way to get a long-term relationship). And sometimes, things are going fine but in my mind, they’re not regardless of how much you tell someone with anxiety to stop stressing, it just doesn’t happen. (See also: the most emo blog online)

Shh. Memoir Writing in Progress

I’m writing a memoir and I’ve already spent a few years on it. I imagine my first book as a little baby. Everyone is cooing and asking about how it’s doing. At night, I pick up the piles and piles of notes and place them neatly in bed, next to a window and stare at it admiringly.

I’m writing a memoir and I’ve already spent a few years on it. I imagine my first book as a little baby. Everyone is cooing and asking about how it’s doing. At night, I pick up the piles and piles of notes and place them neatly in bed, next to a window and stare at it admiringly. I imagine when the whole process is complete, it’ll have taken me a decade and may have been the hardest thing I’ve done to date.

Last night I went to pick up my notes and writing from a friend. She’s an experienced journalist and editor and she’s always someone I learn from. I’d taken a month or two off writing while she read through what I had. Initially, when I handed my writing over, I couldn’t stop thinking about it and I couldn’t stop worrying about what I normally worry about (structure, chapter length, style, etc). And then I relaxed and started really resting. And then I started getting involved in other projects and truly enjoyed my time off.

But now the baby book is back. In my arms. Awww. I missed you, love. I have so much work to do to make it into the final product, but I have a lot of direction for it now and a break from it helped my mind truly take a vacation.

So, with a renewed energy, I’m approaching this next step with excitement. I almost worked on it last night, but I had to get some sleep. As is expected, my social media interaction may suffer, which I might truly miss, but it’s either that or my book will be written on Facebook, one line at a time.

The Opportunity of a Lifetime: Sex with Three People

That time I was asked to join an open relationship

Here’s the thing you need to know about me: I fall in love easily and I’m online a lot. So, last night one comment got me laughing, a friend request was sent and bam…I’m crushing on this guy we’ll call “D.” Anyway, D is cute…red haired though, so meh. Not much of a beard. Three kids. Lives in Arizona. Okay, I’m getting desperate.

 

I wake up this morning to the sweetest Facebook message:

You had some night. I hope your morning is going well and that you don’t read this anytime soon, because you are sleeping in, peacefully, for hours yet.

 

Jesus Christ, I’m in love, I think. I love to sleep. Anyone who knows me intimately enough knows sleeping is not just my number one priority, but it’s my life. I could nap right now and then sleep through the entire day tomorrow, wake up to pee and get back into my blankets. Schizophrenics sleep a lot. That runs in my family.

 

So I write him back. See above (“online a lot”).

 

The day carries on and he’s my dream man, almost. Not really, but it’s an incredibly boring day at work. I just got rejected from my best friend the night before and a person I liked from the past is struggling physically to remove a really awful drug addiction. My parents are going through a divorce. I’m late on an article. My job is going so well I want to give up writing…almost. I almost landed a book deal. And my fucking awesome friend “T” said she’d write a blurb for my book. And there’s a TV show that kind of is interested.

 

Now you see my need for wine and weed.

 

Back to “D-bag”. He asks me about my writing, my journalism, etc. I already tell him way too much. I’ve probably half spoiled my TV show opportunity. And then you know, I’m an activist and blogger. And he reads my mind:

 

I would love to be a full time activist, I am not a writer, but I have a neglected blog and I’m planing on starting a youtube channel.

 

You’re speaking my language, son! He gives himself away later by saying “What hosting account do you recommend? I’m on blogger.com.” Blogger is not a hosting account. Wow. Sorry, that was a red flag.

 

I then go into my whole “my blog got hacked. My blog is my life” thing. And then I say the virus, it’s destructive and damn…a friend cussed me out. I feel awful. But he saves the day by soothing me:

 

A “friend” cussed you out for something you shouldn’t have been expected to be able to prevent? Not cool.

 

But let me cut to the chase because it gets good. He eventually gets past ALL my barriers emotionally and jumps, nay climbs, over all my walls. I’m shocked. I’m startled. I’m breathing differently. My eyes sparkle. I’ve mentally moved him and his three children over to my area of the country.

 

And then he explains to me that he’s in a relationship with this girl who’s into polyamory and he wants to try it:

 

I have started seeing someone who is trying to introduce me to polyamory. I was reticent at first because of my experiences with Mormonism and the the hideous apologetics around polygamy. I was repulsed by anything that hinted at the misogyny of that mindset. She is patiently bringing me around to some of the more enlightened aspects of it, and her feminist motivations for it. Plus, it’s a lot easier to feel comfortable with it when she’s the one doing all the ‘poly’. I don’t know that I’m ready to explore that, yet but if I do I think it’s going to be something I do very carefully.

 

I’m going to the AHA conference in June and she insists that I have a “conference fling” or that we try bringing someone into our experience. …sigh… I used to be so uninhibited! I’m hoping the right person can help me with that. She is starting to feel uncomfortable with how one-sided this is. I am really enjoying my experience with this person but I feel a little caught up in a whirlwind and i’m just trying to hang on. in the meantime, it’s really, really nice to be with someone that isn’t self-conscious about letting me please her, lots, and lots. It’s like all my pent up ‘giving’ is final able to be indulged and I’m making up for lost time.

 

“…We try bringing someone into our experience…” Share?! Partners?! Sex? Open relationship?

 

My mind starts going to shark infested waters with a bloody carcass getting mangled to shreds. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! In my head I’m screaming bloody murder. That sounds absofuckinglutely terrible. Have I digressed to the ’50’s? Has someone turned me into Ann Romney? What’s wrong with my head?

 

I say, I’ve done the threesome thing. It was fun, but not something I’m into doing again.

 

And of course, I have to be honest:

 

 

I’ve had partners who tried to convince me to do something and you know, sometimes I gave in, but ultimately, they weren’t things I wanted to do, so I wasn’t happy doing them. I was giving but not into it. For example, someone tried to ask me to be his dominatrix last week. Not really my thing…and when I said no, he got super pissed and we’re not friends anymore. I think sex should be really far away from coercion.

I won’t lie…I’m a little bummed that you’re seeing someone because you’re pretty much my type.

So, we like each other. A lot. This goes on for awhile. And it gets heated. I sigh. I bite the bullet and say, Ugh, okay, I’m not going to take this further until you’re single. Sorry, it’s not my thing to try to break people up.

 

But he persists. And draws me in. And then I say it again, No, not ’til you’re single.

 

Then I’m more frank: I’m torn between, “you dirty scum” for messaging me while you’re in a relationship to “oh maybe it would work.”

 

Then the real me spoke up:

 

 

Are you trying to recruit me into a threesome? Is that what this is about?

 

And he said,

as glorious as that sounds, and it is entirely possible that you have just given me fantasy images for a long time to come, no. At this time with as I know about you and me and our dynamic, I want our experience, at least our first few experiences to be just you and me. I want to focus are you exclusively. I want to give you my full and undivided attention.

 

Damn, that’s sexy. Except for the “our first few experiences to be just you and me.” Uhhhh….Wait. What? But he then clarified because he’s psychic and knew I was spitting out my water all over the screen with shock:

 

let me add to that slightly. if it was something YOU wanted, if it was your fantasy (yes I read when you said you didn’t want that again, I’mjust explaining the situation that I would consider). If you picked the third and I still got to focus on you exclusively with somebody else helping to give you the ultimate sexual experience – that is something I would do. But no. I’m not angling for that.

 

 

But I play dumb just so I’m clear: So where does your partner fit into this?

 

Well, he says,

 

depends on what you and her want. Either as an enthusiastic and welcome lparticipant or as an informed, consenting absentee, or a friendly, uninformed former partner.

Or any other idea that appeals to all of us

 

 

 

 

I am not just insulted.

 

I’m pissed off.

 

What a manipulative lying cunt fucker.

 

So you little cunt fuck, here’s what I think:

 

Don’t fucking think that you’re “enlightened” you manipulative son of a bitch. This isn’t enlightenment. It’s disgusting, disrespectful coercive lies. I wouldn’t have had sex with you if you were last dude on the planet. You live in Fucking Arizona.

 

Also, next time you’re picking up on someone for poly-Mormonism, just be honest and up front. Don’t lie. Don’t say what someone wants to say. Get help if you’re a sociopath.

 

And then, if you’re interested (sociopaths aren’t), get to know the person. Be yourself.

 

You know what sucks? The dude has my number. Ugh. Lame. I really need my agent (that I don’t have yet) to take my phone away from me. And my Facebook.

I Have Cats

If any of you have cats, you know what I’m about to say. Cats are wonderful pets but they sure as hell don’t let you sleep in. I’m sure dogs are worse, but my cats are infamous for doing a 5-7 am sprint across my chest, over to the window, onto the nightstand, and around again. And as if it’s not bad enough to do all that, Molly will spend a good hour on the nightstand, knocking off literally everything until it’s either on the floor or the side of the bed where I always forget to look for it. Glasses, cell phone, etc. All gone by morning.

Right now, Boo and Molly are chillin’ on the floor, acting like they didn’t just wake me up out of a deep, much needed sleep. But the truth of the matter is, I never wake up this early on purpose and I’m not a huge fan of it.

Boo and Molly are both rescue cats, which means they were rescued from high-kill animal shelters. Boo was 4 months old when I adopted him last October. Molly was about 4 or 5 weeks old when she came home with me after being at Baldwin Park Animal Shelter. Although she was the tiniest thing in the world, Boo adopted her as his own. He mothered her and bathed her and all but carried her around in his mouth. I’m so glad I have two cats; however, the downside of having two cats is that they always play together. Even if that means they play at 6 am.

When they’re not being assholes, they’re ridiculously cute. I’m sure this is how parents feel about their children, who wake them up early.

Boo's typical relaxing pose
Molly and Boo are always together
Molly likes to Facebook
Molly loves shoes
Boo isn't grumpy

I’m Up

I never wake up this early. Seriously.

And I’m definitely going back to bed in another hour, but this morning I just couldn’t go back to sleep after my cats woke me up with their nonsense. And then I wanted bacon. And coffee. And writing sounded kind of fun. So, here I am.

It’s unsurprisingly beautiful out this morning. There’s fog right above the house but the trees are still visible. I’m sipping coffee and Facebooking. And I just finished eggs.

Today starts National Novel Writing Month, better known as NaNoWriMo. Last night after midnight I decided to get a start on it, so I started writing. 830 words later, I was a happy camper. The goal of NaNoWriMo is to write 50,000 words in a month (1,666 words daily). I’m well on my way to reaching the first days goal. Not that I’m going to keep up with this daily (although I have good intentions, I’m probably not going to finish). But I do need to finish a book or three.