A New Little Poem

My NaNoWriMo results, plus a story that led to a little poem.

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NaNoWriMo is over. I did not reach my goal of 50,000 words. I didn't write anything during our trip to Seattle, and I haven't written much since. I still have a strong desire to finish, but I've realized two things. 1) 50,000 words is really going to be about the halfway mark in the story, meaning I now expect the finished draft to be in the neighborhood of 80,000 - 100,000 words. 2) It's going to take a while to write all that. I'm still debating what to do with these realizations, how to fit the novel into my life, and at what intensity it should be.

When I started NaNoWriMo one of my concerns was whether or not it would interrupt what had been a rather steady flow of little poems I had been writing since last August. Sometimes (alright, quite often) when I leave one thing to do another, I never return to finish. So I was quite pleased when on the bus ride home the other day something amusing happened, and before I knew it'd written another little poem:

O.J.'s Going to Jail

Over the radio the quote
Was spoken with the cheeky host
A trifle gleeful in his tone,
"Now O.J.'s saying," he began,
"'I didn't know it was illegal.'"
On our way home, we working folk
All turned to one another, snickered,
And placing buds into our ears
We did enjoy our Friday ride
Away from all our weekly woes.

Poetry Contest Victory!

Dinner Guests, originally uploaded by brweaver.

At the beginning of the month I entered a poetry contest, and I placed as a runner up! I was very excited to hear the news upon my return from our Thanksgiving adventure in Seattle. Here is a larger version of my runner-up winning poem.

You can see more examples of blackout poems here.

Writing Desk

Writing Desk, originally uploaded by brweaver.

I'm (nearly) half-way through my first novel. I'm participating in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) this year, which has really been a fun challenge. The idea is to write 50,000 words during the 30 days of November, which is a tough goal.

So far I've been quite pleasantly surprised by a few things:

1) That the story seems to be there. The more I write the more it all sort of flows out. I haven't hit any major road blocks or any abnormalities, and aside from being slightly behind in my writing I'm doing pretty well.

2) I didn't plan this book out to the letter. I have a rough idea of what happens, and how it ends, but not much more. I'm hand-writing it cover to cover in a journal, and it's so surprising to me how characters come to life and the details sort of figure themselves out just by following the logical trajectory of who my characters are what they would do and so forth.

3) Writing largely from my experience as a homeschooler, with the distinct coming of age experience homeschoolers have as the focal point, I find myself surprised how nearly all of my characters shift in and out of likability. They can be so charming in one scene, and so obnoxious in the next. It feels good to write them in a way I can only describe as honest.

Regarding that Positive Psychology...

Author Tim Ferris had a quote on his blog from Psychologist Martin Seligman that I found pretty interesting:

There are three levels to happiness: pleasure, the delight you get from chocolate, fast cars, and sex; engagement, the feeling of “flow” you get when you’re doing something you’re good at; and meaning, the fulfillment you get from being engaged in an effort greater than yourself. Pleasure is ephemeral and contributes very little to real happiness...but meaningful engagement brings lasting contentment.

My response question is, how many "happy" Christian Artists do you know? They seem like a group that should have both "flow" and "fulfillment".


I found the original quote here, and you can watch a video presentation of Seligman's ideas here.

Alan Greenspan

Alan Greenspan, originally uploaded by brweaver.

Painting again. Digitally. Less clean-up that way. Why Greenspan? Well, why anything I guess. I'm just playing. (And, apparently, getting self-conscious and defensive about it. Time to go contemplate.)

Playing Again

Where introductions are made; and a poem is shared.
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Introduction

Once upon a time, I knew how to play. My memories suggest I was very good at it. But somehow I forgot. I'm not sure why yet, though I have some hunches. I'm beginning to remember though, and this is a blog meant to share the journey of my return; or, to put it another way, to begin to play with others, and walk in company.

Advice

The best advice I ever got--
That writers write and painters paint--
Is quickly set aside when trying
To force myself to make a sale.
I forget my love of words,
my wond’rous joy when placing them
Upon the page in rows around
My strokes of colored ink and wash;
Becoming greedy, wanting gold,
I start to work and cease to play.

10/08