Welp, November came and went, and somehow I managed to write 50,000 words in those 30 days. It was a trying time, in light of the staggeringly disappointing election (yes, I went there) that made me wonder if I should even bother continuing with NaNoWriMo when stuff that is actually important was going on, but after a lot of soul searching and wine, I went ahead with it anyway. Here's a few things I learned.

1. 50,000 words does not create a novel.
To be fair, most novels clock in around 80K-100K, so really, 50,000 is more of a novella. But aside from that, a novel isn't just typing up those words. In preparation of NaNoWriMo, I spent a lot of hours figuring out what I wanted to write, plotting it out, figuring out where it would go, and gaining inspiration for the story. Maybe October should be called OctoPlotMo or something, because I basically took the entire month of October to flesh out the idea so I wouldn't have to figure out where I wanted the book to go when I really just needed to type.

2. Preparation doesn't guarantee anything.
Yes, I prepared, and plotted and outlined and all that stuff. I was excited about my idea, and I couldn't wait to write it. And then, somewhere around 3,000 words or so, my brain started to slow down. It got rough. I mean really rough. I was so over it, and I kept thinking about the book I put down (temporarily) to start on this one. I wanted to write the other damn book! (I guess it really is true, about the grass and whatnot.) I couldn't stop thinking about the other book. All that preparation and excitement and I found myself slogging through a book that I didn't want to write. Surprise, surprise.

3. Taking time is okay.
I don't know that I will participate in NaNoWriMo again next year. The first time I did it, it ended up being my first novel, and that was exciting. I had no idea what I was doing (I still don't, for the record), and I was just trying to have fun. But now, I want to get better. I want to have better ideas and massage them and fix them when they are broken. And that's tough to do when you're just writing words as fast as you can. Sure, I made it to the word count, but I knew that something was wrong in the first 10,000 words. Something was off in the plot; there wasn't enough conflict, people were gettting along too well, and the main character didn't seem to have any real flaws, other than just being a bit naive. My book was broken. But there was no time to fix it, since I had to keep writing. Now I'm 50,000 words in, and I KNOW the book is broken, because I couldn't right the ship without changing the outline dramatically, cutting things out, adding new things, and shifting perspectives. This book is not a lost cause. It just needs more time to cook. That's okay.

4. I'm an extroverted introvert. Or interoverted extrovert. Whatever.
One of the things I love about NaNoWriMo is the sense of community in knowing that there are thousands upon thousands of people doing the exact same thing you are. It's thrilling, and makes me feel like I have allies. But the thing is, I don't bother to reach out to any of them. How lame is that? There are forums, and get togethers, and all sorts of groups of people who are connecting throughout the month, and I just sit and read that there will be a gathering of writers, and go "Huh, I wish I could go to that." True, most of them are not at times and places that I can attend. But still. I do have a desire to be a part of the community and learn about other writers and maybe even (gasp!) meet them. But something tells me NaNoWriMo isn't what's going to get me there, unfortunately.

The end of October means a couple of things to me. 

Halloween. I'm not going to lie, Halloween gives me anxiety. I'm not sure where this comes from, but I get very anxious wondering what I should dress up as for Halloween, and if I should even bother thinking about it, since I haven't even decided if I'm going to go to any parties or not. This isn't like Labor Day or Memorial Day, where the holiday happens and you don't have to plan for it. You really have to plan for Halloween. Costumes take time and planning. And since I still harbor feelings of inadequacy stemming from being different as a kid, I have to have a "cool" costume. Plus I wear glasses. That means no masks, no makeup on my face, nothing that people might not "get", and nothing that will make it difficult to talk, see, eat, sit, and won't make me look like a moron outside on the street. I like Halloween "cute". Yes, this is stressful. No, I don't know what I'm going to be this year. Yes, I'm a lunatic.

You may have noticed that I like writing short stories. I've published a few recently, so it seems like a logical conclusion. Well, I'm here to say, I DO! Short stories are one of those unique little animals of literature that have such gifts. And there are so many of them! I have several books of short stories, so I can read them anytime I want. They don't take a ton of time to read, so they're almost like the appetizers of reading. They're like the adorable little dogs of the book world. Small, but feisty and cute.

But make no mistake. Shorts are not easy to write. I believe it was Oscar Wilde who said "I would have written a short letter, but I didn't have time." (or something like that). And it's true. Short stories have to be packed with information, where not a single word is wasted. The plots have to be tight and focused, without any tangents or digressions. The truth is: writing short stories if fucking hard. But I try to write them regularly. I admit, I think there are lots of people who write short stories much better than I do. But just like anything else, I keep at it. And hopefully, I'm getting better. And some are better than others. I'm fully willing to acknowledge that. 

But I'm going to keep going. I'm going to keep writing these short little ditties. Historically they have taken on a somewhat melancholy tone, which is something I'm trying to work on. I'd like to write stories that are funnier, or more lighthearted, or even silly. I may even try my hand at some ghost stories. Either way, I plan to keep writing them, and keep sharing them with everyone. If you're so inclined to check any of them out, you can visit my author page on Amazon. There's a collection of shorts, along with a few standalone stories. And if you like them, I'd love to hear about it. And if you don't, I'm happy to hear constructive criticism. 

And I'll keep writing them.

I don't know if anyone has really wondered, but I thought I'd give a little extra background behind why I wrote a book about a horse. If you do a search for books about horses, they all kind of look the same. There's a girl, she's angry, upset, lost, or just a bit out of sorts. But then she discovers a barn, and a horse, and usually a boy. And mayhem and magic ensues. But I didn't think about that when I decided to write this book. And I'd like to think that my book is a bit different. Sure, my character is lost, upset, and angry. And there's a boy. But from there, it goes elsewhere. There are no horse shows, no ribbons. There's just a girl in her life with horses. So why horses?
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1. Horses are every girl's dream. I know very few women or girls who don't have some love for horses, whether they have any or not. Horses are one of those universal creatures that are only a horn away from a unicorn and there's something magical about them, even without that horn. For women, anyway.

2. Human connections to horses don't make sense. I grew up with horses. I don't remember a time in my childhood where there wasn't a horse around. I inherently felt connected to them, even though nature says that connection shouldn't be there. Horses are prey, and humans are predators. Horses should fear humans. Humans weigh (usually) 100-200 pounds. Horses weigh over 1000. Humans should fear horses. But in general, this isn't the case. There is a partnership between humans and horses that defies nature, and the trust necessary to form that bond is immense and irrational. But when you can curl up on the ground with a sitting horse, lean against their neck, and pet their face, nature isn't a thing. The bond is.

3. Horses are mysterious. It's often difficult to figure out exactly what they're thinking, even though sometimes it seems obvious. They have quirks and personalities that are unique and special. They have a language all their own, and for anyone who takes the time to pay attention, the conversations between human and horse is special.

4. Horses have meaning. This is a strong belief I've always had. Horses are strong, independent, and spirited. They are willful and sensitive. They are connected to the earth and yet ethereal. In a more practical sense, anyone who spends time around horses has a special sense of the world that doesn't come with a dog. I have a niece who grew up with horses, training them all herself, taking them to shows, and getting better with each horse and each skill she taught to them. And I believe it has made her the strong, independent woman that she is growing into. She is not discouraged by setbacks, she doesn't need anyone's approval, and she never gives up. On top of all that, she's a gentle soul with a deep sense of empathy for others. I'm sure she would have turned out great without the horses, but I also feel that her experiences with horses has given her the fortitude and strength that make her unique among teenagers, and skills that she can carry throughout her life. I like to think that my character has similar qualities, for the same reasons.

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​People always seem to want to know where ideas come from, and what moves a person to write about it. Well, the first answer is a bit mysterious and different for everyone, but the second is a little less so. When I pick something to write about, I feel like I'm spelunking. I'm climbing down deep into something that interests me, seeing all the cool things that form and what they look like in different kinds of light. Sometimes those things are scary, and sometimes they're exciting, and sometimes they're beautiful. That's some pretty cool shit to get just out of writing some words down. But the other day as I was driving to work, thinking about my book (what else would I think about while sitting in traffic?), I started to wonder why I chose this. Why YA? I wrote about a teenage girl from a small town. I wrote for a teenage girl in a small town. All teenage girls. But why?

So I had to spelunk for the answer. And this is what I came up with.

1. Teenagers are fascinating. Now, when I was one, I wanted to be anything but a teenager. It was weird and uncomfortable and awkward. You didn't have anything that you could really control, and being a grown up or a kid seemed much better in comparison. At least adults could do whatever they wanted and nobody was the boss of them (ha! I learned that this was wrong a long time ago!), and kids could just run around without a care in the world. Teenagers are stuck in the middle of these two worlds, trying to hang on to the joy of childhood while exploring the independence of adulthood. And it's a freaking scary ass journey. But every teenager is different, and has a different journey. I wanted to explore the journey of this one girl.

2. Teenagers learn quickly. While teenagers are on this amazing journey of discovering who they are, they go through a lot of bullshit. The make a lot of mistakes. The highs are high (first kiss!) and the lows are low (first heartbreak!). And there is everything in between. So when writing about teenagers, it seems a lot easier to fit a whole story into a relatively short amount of time. Once we get to adulthood, we learn lessons over a longer period of time, so it's much less of a thrill ride. And that thrill ride is the one I want to be on.

3. Teenagers are sponges. Since they learn so quickly, they can internalize ideas rapidly and easily, even without realizing it. When I write about teenagers, I can explore all sorts of other ideas in my book; ideas about race, culture, class, gender, and so on that the characters are dealing with on some level, whether they know it or not. When I was a kid, I saw lots of things happen around me, and I remember it clearly, but a lot of it I didn't fully process until I was older. But now that I have processed it, I've learned that these kinds of concepts were all around me as a kid, and I soaked it all up. And when teenagers (hopefully) read my book, they might be able to see a little bit of their lives there, and ingest these ideas, and these ideas might actually hit a place of thinking about them and thinking, "Yeah, that's true. Why is it like that?" In this very small way, I like to think that I can spark a thought, and that thought can spark a little change to make the world just a bit better.

There are tons of other reasons I wrote this exact story, but these are the reasons I wrote for teenagers. And maybe the teenagers at heart, too.

So I was reading a little blog about some books that the author recommended, and ran across this little gem in the comments: 

"Only 5 out of 20 authors male? More women writing about women for women. No wonder the male reading stats are through the floor!!"

Not gonna lie, I had to read it a few times to realize that this guy was actually serious (also, not one person stepped up to challenge him? Really?). He was serious as in, "I'm a privileged white guy (yes, there was a picture with his comment), and this doesn't fit my narrow and oblivious view of the world, so fix it." serious. You mean, there's a forum where women are more prevalent than men? Could it be so? What is happening to this world!!! Next thing you know cats and dogs will be living together. And to think, a blogger recommending more women authors than men. Conspiracy, I say!


​So I decided to check it out. And I found this. And this. Aaaand this.

Now, don't get me wrong. I have nothing against men. Really. I even know a few. And one of them is even straight. But this really takes the cake. As an author, I find it doubly troubling. Is it really so bad for a woman to write something another woman would want to read? While the stats debunk this knuckle-dragger's belief that women dominate publishing, it definitely makes a person think. Even if women did dominate, would that really be such a terrible thing? Can't women have just this one thing?

Who gets to dominate the film industry? Politics? Academia? Who dominates nearly every professional job there is that doesn't involve servitude? Don't believe me? See investment banking, medical doctors, architects, professors, or really any boss of any kind, and you'll assume that person is male. Trust me. I'm a writer. I've seen these biases with my characters and critiques. If I write a character that is a a Dean of a college, if that Dean is a female, I actually have to specify that. Otherwise, readers assume the Dean is a man. Oh, and white.

But the nerve of someone putting together a list of recommended books and only 25% of them are male? Welcome to my world, entitled dude. A world where you are the minority and people don't worry about what you think, what you want, and what makes you happy. Welcome to the world of half the population.

This, my friends, is what male privilege looks like. I'm sure you all know this, because you're super smart peeps, but I felt compelled to point it out. Because I didn't even notice the genders of the authors on the list until I read his comment, and seriously, who the fuck cares? Good writing is good writing.

Today I got to catch up with a dear friend (Hi, Jen!) that I haven't talked to in a couple weeks. Normally, we talk at least once a week, so this was quite a while for us. Anyway, both of us marveled at how busy our jobs are, how much work there is to do, and are still optimistic about the future at our respective places of work. Then I ran across a video about how Sasha Obama has a summer job at some restaurant clearing tables and basically having a crap job like most other fifteen-year-olds. Good for her, I thought.

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Then I stumbled upon this article about LA City Council members and their first seven jobs. And thought, what were my first seven jobs? Well here they are:
1. Working in a store on a public farm. IN A GRAIN SILO. I was a cashier. And by cashier, I mean people gave me their money, and I figured up tax with a little calculator, then figured out their change by hand. And credit cards were still the slips with carbon copies. I saw a cow get artificially inseminated that summer, and swore I would never. Ever.
2. Stable hand on a horse farm. They specialized in Peruvian Pasos. Beautiful horses. It was mostly picking up horse poop and pushing a wheelbarrow from one place to another, but I did get to work with the horses a little bit.
3. Delivering phone books. I feel for people who still do this job. It's even more pointless than it was in 1991.
4.Waitress at an inn. Room and board was included, and it was in the Rocky Mountains. That was a great summer, but I'll never forget getting my ass chewed out because I forgot to heat up the syrup on my first day.
5. Trail Guide through Rocky Mountain National Park. On horses. Some amazing stories from that summer.
6. Gymnastics coach. I gotta say, dealing with kids aged 2-12 on a daily basis, I learned a TON about how to deal with people.
7. Waitress at an inn. Apparently, I hadn't had enough the first time. I moved across the country, and this was a great option. That was one crazy summer in the Smoky Mountains.


So what does it all mean? Do your first seven jobs say anything about you? I say it's doubtful. But I do think that it definitely stays with you for a long time. I dealt with the public in almost every single one of those jobs. I worked with small children and animals, two of the most temperamental creatures on the planet. I learned how to solve problems. I learned independence. I don't remember earning a bunch of money in any of those jobs, but I have memories to go with all of them.

It was many jobs after number seven before I had any real responsibility past heating up the syrup (unless you want to count keeping children from diving head first off a balance beam and keeping horses from killing themselves or you), but I still learned something from every single one, and I continue to learn every single day in the job I have now. And I guess that's what really matters, and why I love my job. 

​What were your first seven jobs?

Sometimes I have no idea what to write about. None. Head. Is. Empty. I hate that. It's like falling through the air and not knowing how you're going to land. And that's happening to me right now. Blogging is one of those things that is both annoying and fun. Like karaoke. Except I don't want to do karaoke. I want to do the real stuff, the real writing, and today nothing is coming. So I'm writing this. I think it might be time for a level-set on writing. So here we go:


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1. I'm writing something. That's the goal for the day. It doesn't have to win any awards. Hell, no one even needs to read it. I just have to write it. So this is a victory.
2. I've got other stuff I'm going to write as soon I hit 'publish'. I've got a novel I'm working on, plus another short story, so there's more than this. This is the warm up.
3. I've already published. Both on the blog, and other material. And more on the way. This won't be the last thing I publish. Only the next.
4. Not every day is easy. Some days, writing is work. Today is that day. Tomorrow will be better.

​So that's my silver lining. What do you do to pep yourself up when things are hard?

Sometimes things that are awesome happen. And sometimes I get to be a part of them. Saturday was one of them. A friend of mine asked what I was up to, and I, of course, said, "Nothin."

Anyway, one thing led to another, and we found ourselves at the Adele concert at the Staples Center. I'm going to say right now that I'm more of a casual fan than a hardcore fan. I like Adele, know some of her songs, own an album, but that's pretty much it. I know nothing about her, other than she's British and she can sing like nobody's business.

So anyway, the concert starts, and of course she opens with her current biggest hit "Hello." The crowd went wild at the first sound of her voice, and went wild again as she came rising up out of the stage in the center of the arena. And it was nothing short of amazing.

I actually got a chill watching and listening to the whole thing. There's something truly amazing about someone having such an effect on 20,000 people. It's inspiring, really. I actually got a bit choked up, and since then, I've been wondering why it would have such an effect.

But the truth is, it's not just about Adele. She's great. People love her. But I think what got me was the feeling that all those people are connecting, not just to her, but to one another. That was twenty thousand people who share a fondness, if not all out love for someone they've never met. They love the way she makes them feel when they hear her music. And for those two hours, everyone there is connected.

When you think about it, it's these small connections that make such a difference. If we could all connect in some small way every day to the things and people around us, it seems like our lives might be a bit easier. And maybe even just a bit happier.

I have to admit, I'm a bit embarrassed. I should have shared this a long time ago, but was too excited to remember. I've mentioned it a few times, but now I'm going to really tell you about it. Pause so I can get up on my soapbox...

A few years ago, I discovered something called 750words.com. It was during a time that I was trying to get in the habit of writing, and coming up a bit short. It seemed like I was getting nowhere, making no progress, and this whole writing thing was just some silly pipe dream cooked up by someone who didn't want to work at a job anymore. So what's 750 words?

It's a website. But it's really more than that. It's based on the idea of "Morning Pages", which anyone who is familiar with The Artist's Way will recognize. 750 words is roughly 3 pages of writing, so a couple of geniuses created a place where you could write your 750 words, keep it, and not worry about accidentally hitting 'publish', and therefore exposing the world to your rambling. It's not a blog. It's a journal. It tracks days you write, how much you write, and how long you take. It even tracks the words you use, and what you write about, and the positivity or negativity (read: optimism/pessimism) of what you're writing. I'm not sure if it really matters, but at the very least, it's interesting, and gives you insight into what is going on in your head. 

I decided to give it a try. It's $5 bucks a month, but I'd say it's totally worth it. I started writing. I wrote a few days, then forgot a day. And since it keeps track of the consecutive days you write, I had to start back at zero. Going backwards has never appealed to me, so I started again the next day with new zeal. And I wrote that day. And the next, and the next, and the next.

I wrote for nearly a year straight. Every day. At least 750 words. And somewhere in that time, something else opened up. I finished my novel. I wrote a short story. I wrote a short script. I wrote a TV script. I wrote a feature film script. And I was inundated with other ideas. So many ideas, I had to write faster to get to them all. And I'm still writing.

These days, I tend to write less in 750 words, but I still hang on to it for those days when my writing needs to be more like journaling. I still try to write every day, because I learned that those 750 words actually mean something. Writing means something. Your thoughts mean something. So if you're struggling to write, or even struggling to know what's in your head and clear things out, this is a good place to start. And $5 a month is the cheapest therapy there is.