It’s no surprise, dear reader, that I’m a busy man: not only am I plowing through my first year of teaching (and all the lesson-planning, classroom-managing, relationship-building chaos that comes with that) I’m also attempting to balance being a grad student and still having something of a personal life (filled with a new relationship and lots of Pokemon).
It’s more than I can say in one breath, that’s for sure.
So comes NaNoWriMo. That one month a year I’ve pledged to the author inside to make writing my number one priority. Except lately I can’t even write for my blog.
What am I to do?
In years past, this is when I set academics on the back burner and put my fingers to the keys, but (disclaimer: if you’re one of my students, skip this part) I’m already not doing about ninety percent of my graduate work, so clearly that isn’t gonna help me now.
And I’m not even sure what story I want to write / need to write.
I’ve been toying with a name and an image that have been with me for years. Solo Basura. A leather jacket and jet-black shades. Some sort of laser-powered sword. Open city streets, endless angst, and carnage. Lots of carnage.
And now I have a frame, in the form of one of my students, for some backstory. And a national trend for an antagonistic entity: clowns. Or election day. Or both.
But I’m a little thin on my murderous music, so that’d have to change.
And, yeah, I’m all out on the time front.
I also want to write a story my boys could read. A story they would want to read. They’re not all big readers yet, and some of them especially struggle to read in the first place. There’s a lot of deep emotions there waiting to be articulated. I’ll come back this.
All the while, November approaches. Will I be able to reach 50,000 this year?
Maybe I’ll ask the English teachers if they’ve heard of NaNoWriMo.
Maybe I’ll ask to lead an after-school Young Writers Program. Maybe.