the pieces of my life

Day 8 of Nanowrimo (challenge, use the word “extuitive”):
Let me step back and describe Mazo: I met him my first week at Tulane. I had just gotten back from yet another keg party after yet another orientation. This was pre-anyone caring how old you were to drink and drinking was pretty much what we did. I was tired. I was slightly drunk. I wanted a warm shower and bed. At just after 2 a.m., I walked into the women’s room with my cheerful green plastic tub of shampoos and soaps and found this student of the male persuasion, standing naked at the sink, shaving. His chest.

“Aloha, amiga!” he called out, waving his electric razor before returning to himself in the mirror. He seemed to be making some sort of design in his chest hairs. On his arm was a large tattoo that I’d later discover was supposed to be the Chinese characters for potent, but turned out to be total gibberish.

“Um, you know there’s a men’s room down the hall,” I said.

“Yeah, but it’s always gunked up,” he replied. “Women are so much neater.”

I couldn’t help but glance at the mess he was making in the sink with the tiny hairs scattering everywhere.

“See what I mean?” he said. “I’m a total slob.”

“I’m way too buzzed to pick apart the gender generalizations you’re making, but could you get out so I can shower?”

He shrugged. “I’m almost done.”

All I wanted was sleep. “What the hell,” I muttered to myself, and went ahead and turned on the hot water. When he made no moves to leave, I just undressed and began to shower.

“I like you,” he said.

“You like me or my boobs?” I asked from inside the shower. The water was making me drowsier and I just wanted to melt down right there and take a nap.

“I like you,” he answered. “Your boobs are a little small for my tastes.”

“You don’t know me.” I picked up the soap and started lathering.

“I can just tell these things. I’m extuitive like that.”

“Extuitive? That isn’t even a real word.”

“Sure it is. It’s the opposite of intuitive. It’s so clear we’re going to be friends, no intuition involved. It’s extuitive.”

“And it’s clear because…?”

“You weren’t the least bit fazed when you walked in here.”

“No,” I answered, rinsing off and letting the water run down my head. “For me to be fazed, you’d have to have a much bigger dick.”

He laughed. “Touche. Now I know we’re going to be best friends.”

And damn, if he wasn’t right.

I have two articles, a book review, and two copyedits due this month. I’m hosting Thanksgiving. Hanukkah is super early this year (December 4th). Oh, and I’ve got two kids to raise. And Adam has an almost-week long business trip. So what does that mean? It means it’s time to get my Nanowrimo on! Yep, it’s been a couple of years and my writing juices have felt a little stale, so I’m going for 50,000 words or bust. (Pie, that means “break down,” it does not mean “Ming Ming” so get that glimmer of lust out of your eye.)

Now it’s your turn. I really have no idea what my novel is about or where it’s going (even though I’m 10,501 words into it). Please, please, please leave me a comment with a random word, phrase, sentence, or random idea. I promise to incorporate each and every one into my novel and I’ll post the resulting paragraph with it in there (and you won’t have to wait till Wednesday for me to post it). So help me Nano my way to 50,000!

I’m having a hard time dragging myself off to bed. I want to revel in my 50,000 wordness.

I’m doin’ a jig, I’m doin’ a jig. Because 50,565 is such a wonderful place to be. So what if there are massive gaps, huge plot problems, and disappearing characters? I have a beginning. I have a very long and dragged out middle. And–surprise!–there is an end. An actual end. My novel is done.

And I have no idea what the hell I am going to do with all this free time I will suddenly have. Maybe I should start another…?

It’s my bed time. 10 p.m. And I’ve had too much red wine. BUT I CAN’T QUIT NOW! I don’t care if don’t go to bed, I’m about to kill off my protagonist’s love interest and I have just a mere 865 words to go!! No sleep for the novelists!! I feel like I need to run around the block or something to work off this energy. I’m feeling very sad about killing off this love interest. I’ve grown rather fond of him. As I told Adam, if it weren’t for the fact that this character is going to die, I might consider leaving Adam for him.

Home stretch territory. My spelling and grammar have become atrocious. I can’t remember even the simplest words until I see Word correcting them for me. At this points, it appears only Maria, from writing group, and I are the only ones in running to finish this thing. Spent this morning shopping (two pairs of comfy Fernley shoes, plus some holiday presents for my friends) and this afternoon and evening writing, writing, writing. Word count: 45,935. The end is in sight (although Adam just pointed out to me that I originally wrote “site,” which just proves my point about the spelling. When you are writing for speed, nothing counts but the number of words on the page).

Oh did you see that? That was my “I hit 40,000” dance. Do-do-do, I’m dancing, I’m dancing. Actually, I’m at 40,907 and I’m calling it a night. Tomorrow, I plan to buy sensible shoes for Fernley and to hit at least 45,000. I can do this. Oh, yes I can. Now, to go back to my dancing. Good night!

Everyone in my novel shrugs too much. She shrugged, he shrugged, and for a change, he grinned and shrugged. These people must have amazing shoulder muscles.

I’m not out of this yet: 30,352. And a pie, a cake, and three kinds of cranberry sauce. Not too shabby a day. Tomorrow, though, I will go to the gym, cook a turkey, and plow through my word count.

I’m behind on the novel, but I’ve at least passed the halfway point: 27,090 words. I’m still not sure where it’s all going, but it’s still going. Embracing the “quanity not quality” has really helped me get the words down, but I know what a mess it is. Tenses are changing mid-paragraph, the narrator keeps showing up and then disappearing, there are scenes with great big holes in them. If toward the end I’m low on words, there are a lot of places I could go back and add descriptions and scenes that I’ve ignored for now, because I didn’t feel like writing them. My cold is pretty much over, which is making it much easier to get to this. I find the Walkman with the Israeli music really helps me set my scene.

Now that the main rush for holiday is done at work, I can start to close projects out and begin learning things in my new position. I’m quite excited to be starting something new, and while it may only be mid-November, the beginning of January feels incredibly close, and there’s so much I’d like to get done before I move on. If I had any doubts about changing positions, that’s over now that so many folks are leaving work. I was really shocked by Friday’s announcement, but I guess I shouldn’t have been. I think everyone was surprised at first, but when they thought about it for a little bit, it made perfect sense. But with so much of the original team going (even if they were in other departments, they were still there), there’s little left to stay for. I’m appreciative that he got me out of my old job before moving on. Everyone seems to hit their five year anniversary and then pack their bags. Actually, more and more folks aren’t even making it to their five-year point. So few people left remember the Columbia building. The majority of folks left never even worked there, never had to share a cubicle or have any idea what a bunk-desk is. They don’t remember the strange smells on the mezzanine or the old printed phone list with everyone’s home numbers. Now it’s all blue shirts and khaki pants and modern offices.

Speaking of blue shirts and khaki pants (and my new career), Adam and I went to Barnes and Noble yesterday (yes, I will shop there) and I picked up Why We Buy, a book on “the science of shopping.” I made Adam walk in front of me in case I saw anyone I knew–I didn’t want to be seen in the business section, nevermind picking up books such as The Portable Marketing MBA. Anyway, I’m really enjoying it–a fast read. Lots of this stuff is plain old common sense that I had never even thought about. It’s giving me ideas for my next novel… (As if. After this one, I may never write again!)