My friends on ProzactoPrana and Slippers have been talking about it, and I promised to do it this month. 50,000 words in 30 days during NaNoWriMo may not produce a finished novel, but it is certainly good practice. Where am I? Embarrassingly far behind.
To save face, I’ll say that I haven’t been trying. Losing my best feline friend on the first day of the month beat the stuffing out of me. But the whole truth is less sympathetic: I am finding every single word of this novel to be bloody, boring, painful, unrewarding work. And I’m not the best when it comes to that. (Honestly.)
|Mary K Swanson|
Today, I worked on my bottle tree. I cut and twisted heavy wire and embedded hooks to set up the old fence on which I’ll hang the bottles. Then, I tried to drill a bottle. I drilled too fast and it shattered. I asked for instruction, and David showed me that it takes ten minutes to drill one small hole into one bottle. “Steady pressure. You have to feel for it. It’s more of a meditative practice.”
I swear. That’s what he said.