26,863

That's how many words I've written since November 1st for NaNoWrimo. I'm half-way through. Up until a couple of days ago, I'd maintained a self-congratulatory two day cushion, but it's gone now.

Here's something interesting about taking a lot of time from your regularly scheduled life to do something you love, something that moves you, even if it's very silly and shouldn't be taken very seriously: It makes you a lighter, happier person because EVEN THE SILLY THINGS MATTER.

Because if we can make room for the silly endeavors, the more serious ones naturally follow. They wear away a groove in our lives, to make room for what we tell ourselves we don't have room for. The big "No" we tell ourselves when we have a dream and want to follow it becomes quieter until we can hear what our souls are begging us to do.

It doesn't matter that I don't know what I will write about when I sit down to in front of my computer tonight after my children are in bed. What matters is that I'm sitting down at all.

No one can write a great novel in one month. But I can write a mediocre one that gives me something I can't quite name in return.

And that has to be worth more than all the unfolded laundry and a growing tower of dirty dishes in the sink.

Ummmm...What Did I Just Do???

Okay. So it's been awhile. I could offer up some reasonable excuses for my absence like: I began homeschooling my two oldest while trying to keep my two youngest happy. Or an autoimmune disease that has been kicking my butt for the past month. I could blame it on out of town guests, children with colds, Yonas kicking his tantrums into super-ultra high gear, hormones, or pure exhaustion.


I could claim any of those, or maybe all of those excuses, for why I haven't been blogging, but I think the truth may be that I'm not a blogger anymore. I have genuinely felt like I didn't have anything interesting to put out into the ether. I may revert back to how this blog began, a chronicle of my children's lives for people who love them that live far away. Maybe not. Maybe inspiration will strike and I will have lots of things to say someday. But for now, not so much.


BUT. Wait until the end of November to give up on me. Last November I participated in NaBloPoMo, National Blog Posting Month. This year I have stupidly, boldly, and insanely committed to NaNoWriMo. National Novel Writing Month. That's right. You commit your crazy ass to writing a novel in the month of November. 50,000 words. That's about 1500-2000 words per day. There is no chance of a prize for completion. Only misery until the finish line. If, that is, you actually finish. But if you do...bliss.


So I am here today, posting on my neglected blog to say out loud that I have committed myself to said misery so I will feel accountable, so my friends will say, "How's the writing going?" and I will have to give them an answer, so I can get on here and bitch about it, and so that any of you who plan on joining the insanity can conspire and commiserate with me.


I will post about my progress. And when December rolls around, after a month of neglecting housework and laundry and, let's be honest, personal hygiene; I might even post a picture or two of my children.

And maybe I'll be a blogger again.