Can you believe it?
It was easy, too. I took a piece of my story that had been bumping around in my head for a while and I just wrote it down. No problemo.
I re-read it this morning and I still liked it. Very satisfying.
Right now, my novel is plotted out. It's roughly outlined and I have many of the scenes already planned in my head. If I can sit down and write each one, even out of sequence, then link them together, then edit and polish it up, it might turn out to be pretty good.
At least it might be satisfying enough for me to read, even if it's not fit for anyone else's eyes.
Having a creative outlet in my life really does help me with the whole sanity thing.
Which is good, because there are times when life can be pretty darn stressful around here.
Like at 11 p.m. when the Teen asks my opinion about his History homework and I see it and it's absolutely awful and we wind up staying up until midnight fixing it and he's angry at the teacher, angry at me, angry at his father, angry at the Giants, angry at everyone except himself, and he's yelling and being ungrateful and nasty.
And at midnight, when I'm struggling to get my blog post submitted, and Middle decides now is the perfect time to show up and tell me all about the new apps he downloaded for his new iPod Touch. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, he really does think I'm interested in this now when I've just finished battling with the Teen and I'm trying to gently but firmly send the message that I'm Off Duty.
Now the Teen is insisting he can't go to bed because he has to read this book for English class, even though it's 2 1/2 hours past the time the lights need to be out. I'm at the end of my @#$%#$* rope with this kid.
Escaping into my own little made-up world to play is a more stimulating and satisfying activity than escaping into TV or even a good book. I enjoy putting the words together, designing both sides of a conversation (instead of just one, like in real life), the feeling of flow I get when I'm imagining something in my head and the right words for it are coming fluently out my fingers. Kind of like reading, but in reverse.
I'd almost forgotten how good writing feels. Why I did it so much when I was a kid, why I come back to it every November, even though I never come anywhere close to finishing NaNoWriMo. But the 50,000 words in 30 days challenge is just a jumping off point. If I can continue to work on this, a little at a time, I know I will be glad I did.
But for now, I need to go to bed. I have a long day tomorrow.