Routine

The people at Starbucks probably think I’m homeless, because I’m there at least once a day. Soon I will have to start paying rent.

This routine started out as my reading getaway. I would go there for an hour every morning, sit with my latte, and read on my phone. Once I’d grown accustomed to that, I switched from reading to writing. I used to struggle with horrible, often crippling anxiety, and this was one of its last strongholds. I was afraid to a) write every day and b) write in a coffee shop. Both of these fears were bizarre because a) I used to write every day, and b) I have known for several years now that I do my best writing at coffee shops.

At least part of my fear had to do with the fact that, with how tight my schedule is, I have to go straight from Starbucks to work, which means I need to bring my laptop to work with me, where it could get stolen, or stepped on, or, I don’t know, put in an oven or something. In the end, I decided that I had to just get over my fear, because NaNoWriMo was too important to risk not being able to write every day. (Now I’m so chill about it, I’m like, well, my laptop is going to have to be okay, because there is no way I am not going to write today.)

Starbucks is expensive, so you might be asking yourself why I go there so frequently, even just to read on my writing vacations. For a while, I tried to make Starbucks only a treat, a twice-weekly occurrence, but now I’ve been doing this writing routine for over two months, I understand why it’s important for me.

There are very good arguments for not limiting yourself to a routine, one of which being that you can train your brain to perform only under specific circumstances, which is suboptimal (one of my awesome coffee beans mentioned this to me, and I thought it was really cool). I say that that’s fair, but also that it doesn’t apply to me, or rather, without a routine, I don’t get as much writing done. It’s not a bad thing if you don’t have a schedule or if you don’t write every day; it’s just not for me. 

There’s nothing like going to the same place for an hour or two (at least) every day for the sole purpose of putting words on the screen. My brain knows what’s expected of it, so it (usually) performs. There are times when it’s a drag, and all I want to do is bash my head against my computer screen until the baristas kick me out. But one thing about going somewhere, for a set amount of time, to do a set thing, is that you tend to do the thing, even if you don’t want to. Or, at least, I do. There are times when I find myself with half an hour left before it’s time to head to work, and I don’t feel like writing more, but I tell myself to write anyway, because there’s not a whole lot else to do. I make sure to limit my available entertainment options when I’m at Starbucks for that reason. That practice is why posts like this exist.

So why Starbucks? Why not just establish an at-home writing routine? First of all, there are innumerable distractions at home. I could make food. I could eat food. I could wash dishes. I could go outside and play with the dogs. I could count the number of books I own. I could have an existential crisis. Etc. It’s not as bad at the new apartment, since we don’t have internet or reliable cell reception, and there’s something about the ambiance there that’s more conducive to concentration. So I do write there, but when I write at home, it’s spontaneous, incidental; it happens because I feel the words bubbling up inside me and need to let them out immediately.

With my routine, even working full time and allowing myself most evenings to read, I managed to write 121,121 words for NaNoWriMo. Most of that writing happened on my days off and in the two hour window I grabbed every morning before work. Pre-Starbucks, I struggled for three years to integrate some semblance of order into my writing habits, my closest thing to success being when I wrote at my old church, which was like writing at home, but with more distractions. Another victory is that I have a long-standing routine of going to a different café, actually a patisserie, and writing for several hours every Thursday, which for several months was the only writing I was getting done. It made for an excruciatingly slow pace, but it was also better than nothing, and it was the highlight of my week.

I think what it boils down to is this: writers love writing, but we also hate writing, and usually we will put a fair bit of energy into avoiding our work. If you are in an environment where distractions are possible, they will become probable. If you don’t go looking for them, they will come looking for you. But an environment that forbids distractions is, inherently, a game changer.

“But Liz,” I hear you saying, “there’s internet at Starbucks. Isn’t that a distraction?” Sometimes. It’s useful for Spotify, so I can have a wider music selection. And I’ll scroll through Twitter while I’m waiting on my latte or when I need a quick mental break. But I’m afraid I’ll look like a bum who spends all day on social media. I don’t generally advise worrying what other people will think about you, but in circumstances like this, if it helps me stay on the straight and narrow, I guess it works.

Maybe the dedication for my first book should be something like this:

to my vanity, without which this book would not exist 

I feel like that would go over well.

I completely understand if you’re reading this post and recoiling in horror because the thought of a Starbucks routine is as low on your list of appealing options as it could possibly be, right down there with “finding a dead body”. If you can’t get work done in an environment where people might read over your shoulder and sometimes old men get too chatty and the background noise can border on obnoxious, that’s okay.

I won’t lie. These were issues for me at first. (No one cares about your fake best friend, Sharon. The whole shop doesn’t need to hear about her implants.) This enterprise has been an exercise in stepping out of my comfort zone, across the board. I still have to block out the noise with my earbuds sometimes, but the background chatter does well to neutralize my tinnitus. I still write notes in my draft aimed at anyone who might be snooping, sweet nothings like, “This is a rough draft, don’t judge,” and “No one loves you,” and, “I will burn your house down.” I get squirrelly about the whole reading over my shoulder thing, because there are stages in my writing where I would show you my draft, but then I’d have to—well, you know. (I think it’s a testament to how confident I am with HIRAETH that I was rarely worried about that. Although there was that day when I was editing a fairly gory scene, and the chatty dude next to me clammed up real quick and moved to the next chair over. So I guess there are perks to this arrangement, after all.)

But there’s nothing like casually eavesdropping on people’s conversations (because when they’re talking that loud, you know they want to be heard), nothing like working alongside other people, learning the faces of regulars, getting to know the baristas by name and realizing they’re the closest thing you have to friends. *awkward laugh*

Now that I’ve established this routine, I don’t want to go back.


What about you, coffee beans? What are your writing routines? Do you like to write at coffee shops? Where do you prefer to write? What do you do to combat the whole reading over your shoulder thing?

Stale Coffee

Note: Long story short, I’ve been extra busy over the past couple weeks, traveling and getting ready to move. So instead of writing a fresh post for you coffee beans, I’m pulling one from the wasteland of half-finished pieces I’ve had knocking around in my Out of Coffee, Out of Mind Scrivener file for ages (call it stale coffee). I wrote this one over a year ago, when I was working for my former church under my second boss there. (I guess you will have to wait a little longer to read posts from Liz, the new-and-improved edition.) If it’s got a couple typos here and there, I apologize. I’m trying to edit, but for whatever reason, after drinking less than a cup of coffee, I can barely see straight. Also, it’s summer, but my apartment has been so cold, even with a blanket and a hoodie, I’ve somehow managed to catch a chill. Call me bulletproof. But yeah, I wanted to get this post up for you today because I won’t have another full day off until Thursday.


Here I am, in line at Starbucks. I’ve just finished work at the church, where my hours have been rearranged so I have more time off on Sundays. This is a big deal. Until recently, Sundays were one of the hardest days for me; I was on my feet, go-go-going from six in the morning till nine or ten at night. Mondays tended to suffer as a result. Having chronic pain makes stuff like that difficult for me, so this is a load off my shoulders. Anyway, I’m waiting in line, patient and peaceful. If I were Todd in THE KNIFE OF NEVER LETTING GO, my noise would be quiet.

I want to buy a sandwich, order some coffee, sit down and write. I have ideas and almost-ideas swirling through my brain. If I can get them down, it will make my afternoon.

But…

Yeah, the woman in front of me is one of those people who never quite got past that toddler stage—you know, the one where you’re the center of the world and people don’t exist when you’re not interacting with them. Technically she’s in line ahead of me. Like, she’s not ordering, but she’s close enough to the counter that I would feel rude jumping in front of her. She’s taking her sweet time reading the nutrition facts, the ingredients, the wrinkles in the bread, for crying out loud, on every single sandwich in the case. It’s getting old, but I’m still pretty chill. Waiting in line is one of my superpowers. *puffs chest*

Finally, FINALLY, she chooses a protein box and pounces on the poor barista. I start to breathe a sigh of relief. Now that she’s ordering, I won’t have to stand here much longer. Those chairs are looking so comfy.

Nope. Nopety nope nope nope. She starts her order off with, “This is going to be complicated.” Let me tell you, she was not lying. The barista is great, though. He interacts with her intelligently as she gives the most complicated coffee order I have ever heard (and I thought my orders were complicated). It involves multiple shots of espresso, a pump of mocha “approximately the size of a quarter”, coffee terms I will have to look up to understand, and a five minute discourse on how “people of color are now doing more for themselves.” Her words. She uses the barista as an example, since he’s putting himself through college with this job. Go him. But seriously, lady, wrap it up. Just. Stop. Talking.

She moves over, telegraphing like she’s starting to walk away, enough for me to feel justified in sliding over to the counter with the sandwich I chose while she was picking her protein box, eons ago. Those were the good old days, back when I had faith in humanity. I’m hoping setting my sandwich down will stake my claim, silence further conversation on her part, and rescue the poor barista from having to fake one more smile.

Sometimes losing your naiveté can be a lengthy process. Because she’s not done. No, she’s remembered ANOTHER thing she wanted to say, which is even more condescending. It’s pretty clear that no one else in the growing line, in the entire bustling shop, exists to her. She doesn’t stop talking until both her coffees are almost in hand. If I started stabbing myself in the eyes with a straw, I think she’d just keep talking. I’m tempted to test that theory.

In all fairness, I don’t think she’s intending to be rude or an inconvenience. She’s older, maybe set in her ways, maybe from that era where people were taught different ideals. She’s not the kind of person I would want to live with, definitely, but I shouldn’t judge. I don’t know what her life’s been like, don’t even know her name. Also maybe she has no peripheral vision. I know people so oblivious, mugging them would be the easiest thing in the world (if I were, you know, planning to do that *hides*).

When I finally have my food and my coffee in hand, I sit down at one of those little tables, sandwiched between two other occupied tables. They’re one-person tables, mind you, lined up in front of a bench with little room to spare between each one. For the sake of convenience here, let’s call that tiny little space between tables “privacy room”. I can’t see your computer screen—you can’t see mine. Nobody has to feel like their space is being invaded.

The lady to my right has been staring at me since before I sat down, but I’ll forgive her since she hasn’t tried to shank me yet and also because she has a cool accent. Only a couple minutes after I get comfortable, though, she invites a friend over, who decides to sit right in my privacy room. I angle myself away from them as discreetly as I can, considering that I’m, you know, writing about them. However, that has my computer screen facing the girl to my left. She’s minding her own business, but that doesn’t stop me from turning my screen brightness down almost all the way and making the font so tiny I can barely read it. I like to think of myself as a smooth operator.

I love coffee shops. Often I get my best writing and editing done in environments like this, with the smell of coffee in the air, the sound of ice being scooped, of beans being ground, the background chatter. I have to grin and bear with the handful of people who gossip loudly (you know they want you to hear them), the people who video chat right next to you, the noisy ones who follow you around the shop for no specific reason so you can’t get a moment’s peace. You never know what’s going to happen in a Starbucks, in any coffee shop, really. One time someone drugged my coffee, and I’m about 99% sure it was the barista, since I never leave my drinks unattended (he doesn’t work there anymore, so we’re all good). It’s a jungle out there.

There’s a certain magic to being in a place that exists primarily to serve coffee. Yes, it’s overpriced, and sometimes I forget to tie up and gag my common sense, and I end up horrified at how much I’m spending. I don’t know how I’m going to extricate myself from this little table without sticking my butt in someone’s face. My anxiety is never a fan of situations like this. As a consequence, I prefer to sit where I can have eyes on everyone coming in, in case someone decides to shoot up the place, not that it would really help me that much in this sardine can.

I spend my coffee shop time balanced precariously between intense concentration and the steady voice in my head saying, “Let’s leave, let’s leave, let’s go home where it’s safe and cozy. You can watch Good Mythical Morning and read Shakespeare’s Star Wars. Maybe sister will be there and we can watch Firefly together. Why stick around here? This isn’t as fun or as peaceful as you thought it would be.”

For a host of reasons, I keep coming back. Probably it’s the sense of community. I can pretend the girl to my left is writing a book, likewise the girl two tables to my right. Everyone here with a laptop is a novelist, I tell myself, and we are all a part of something, so I’m among friends. The baristas know me by face, if not by name. Sometimes I think I come here to counteract the loneliness of my solitary church job and my living situation, so I don’t go crazy, locked in my head all day every day.

I should wrap up this post. It’s getting long, and people are staring. I have other writing to get done; I hadn’t even planned this post before coming here, and now I have to switch tracks, even though I’m already feeling like I want to go home. Also I have artichoke stuck in my front teeth, which is very distracting. Remind me not to smile at anyone on the way out.


Hey, it's newer me again. *waves awkwardly* It was weird editing this post, trying to stay true to my older voice. It was even stranger to see how anxious I was, how lonely. I saw it then, but I didn’t see it the way I do now. I think surviving that situation meant not realizing how bad it was until I got out. I’m at a place where anxiety is almost nonexistent, where I can generally chill in a coffee shop for hours and be sad to leave.

I’m still one of those people who clears corners when entering a building, who sits facing the doors or better yet, where you can see people coming in but they can’t see you. Although I think that’s just good sense.

Change is good. Sometimes you’ll end up in a stage of life you think will never pass. The nearly two years I spent starving myself were miserable, and I felt trapped, but it's over. I won. And even though it damaged my health in ways I’m not sure I’ll fully recover from, and the temptation to relapse still tries to sneak up on me, I’ve learned some things. I’ve grown as a person. I don’t really know why I’m sharing this post with you today, because when I read it, I find it especially easy to judge myself. But, you know, sometimes I get discouraged, and the best fix I’ve found is a change of perspective. Maybe this will help someone. 


Now it’s your turn. What are some coffee shop experiences you would like to share?

2016 // I Resolve

 

I realize this post is a little late, considering that normal people make and share their resolutions earlier on in the year (like, on day one). But since I am not a normal person, I have altered my schedule accordingly. So here you go, a list of my New Year’s resolutions (in no particular order):

I resolve to drink more coffee. Last year, I just, I don’t know, I don’t think I drank enough. Honestly, I didn’t quite put my heart and soul into it, and that needs to change. So, this year I plan to drink at least a small ocean’s worth of coffee.

 

I resolve to read more books. Admittedly, it’s been a long while since someone told me, “You read too much.” And I don’t think I have to tell you how unfortunate that is. Obviously, I’m not doing this right, and I need to try harder. I need to read until my brain is stuffed with words and lines of print start scrolling out my ears. Then, and only then, will I know that I have almost begun to read enough.

 

I resolve to learn more about the Black Death. Ever since I had to research the Bubonic Plague for a medieval history class, I’ve been obsessed with it. If you were to get me started, I could talk for hours about the physical and psychological effects of the disease, both on the individual and society as a whole. But I don’t think I would be able to teach a Ph.D. level course on it, and that needs to change. 

 

I resolve to eat more pizza. I really don’t think this point needs clarification.

I resolve to blog better. Lately I’ve been a little (translation: a lot) scatterbrained, and when you mix busyness with absentmindedness, it makes for an uncomfortable combination. Needless to say, I’d like to get ahead with blog writing so I’m not always scrambling last minute to finish my posts. Also, I have plenty of ideas, and I want to use them without stressing out and frying my brain.

 

I resolve to spend more time on other blogs. Seriously, I’ve been so bad at this for the past few months. (Really, I’ve been bad at it since day one, but if I just mention the past few months it makes me feel a little better about myself.) There are so many blogs out there, and so many posts I want to read and comment on, and this year I want to get better at doing that. Also, I don’t let myself answer comments on my blogs until I’ve commented on all the blogs I follow, which is why I’m often quite slow at getting back to you people. Oops.  

I resolve to become world-famous and super rich. Obviously, this means I will buy at least one Lamborghini, probably two (since I can’t decide if I want one in silver or lime green). I will buy so many books that the postal workers will build a new post office in my honor, funded by all the money that has been spent shipping book boxes to me. (WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING? That is totally a legitimate goal.) And I will also buy a thermos from the NaNoWriMo store because they’re super cool, and I’ve been wanting one since forever.

I resolve to become world ruler. Cait @ Paper Fury has her own plans for world domination, so this resolution may not be as straightforward as some of the others. But I’m confident we can come to a solution. Maybe I can rule most of the world and she can have New Zealand (because I like New Zealand, and I wouldn’t give it to just anyone).

 

I resolve to write words and then edit them. Again, this point doesn’t need explaining.

 

I resolve to become a New York Times Bestseller. Shhh, don’t tell me that’s not how it works. Just smile and nod, and I will give you coffee beans and call you my best friend.

 

I resolve to be more antisocial, more neurotic, and more morbid. Yep, this is the year for letting my true colors shine. Now go away.

 

Well, those are my resolutions, little coffee beans. What about you—what are your goals for 2016? When Cait and I battle for world domination, whose army will you join?  

The Christmas-y Tag!

The esteemed Victoria @ Stori Tori’s Blog nominated me for this tag. Thank you, Victoria!

Rules:

Post the picture on your blog. (Since I have no clue where the original picture is, and I’m too lazy busy to track it down, I’ll just use the one on Victoria’s blog.)

Answer the questions.

Tag up to 12 bloggers.

Make up 10 questions for the other bloggers.

What is your favorite Christmas treat?

Can I say all of them? No? Okay. I think I’m going to have to parrot Victoria and pick wassail because I can never get enough of it. As a general rule, we tend to make it only around Christmastime, and I might get a chance to have some on maybe one or two other occasions throughout the year, which means it’s a pretty big deal for me when it’s available. I also love German apple pie, but I make it every Thanksgiving as well, so it’s not specifically a Christmas treat. So yes, wassail, final answer.

Are there any special traditions that your family has to celebrate Christmas?

Every Christmas morning, my sister, my cousins, and I get up early and scurry downstairs to open goody-stuffed stockings in the blue half-light of the morning. (Who says you have to quit this tradition when you become an adult?) Then my aunt cooks an asparagus bake (at least, I think that’s what it is), and it’s super yummy.

At around ten o’clock, once all the sane people drag themselves out of bed and consume enough coffee to reenter the land of the living, we gather around the ginormous Christmas tree in the living room and listen to the Christmas story before we dig into the presents. After oohing and ahing over everyone’s loot, we retreat to our respective burrows where we nap or eat candy or binge-watch Doctor Who until around three o’clock when we troop downstairs to perform our solemn duty and devour the Christmas feast. Later on in the evening, we usually peek at what’s in theaters and, if there’s something we want to watch, we’ll head out, but it’s not exactly a set-in stone tradition. Sometimes we go the day before or the day after.

Of course, this year, since we’re not going home for Christmas, my sister and I will have to pick and choose which traditions we will be able to follow and which ones we will have to reimagine. For instance, we won’t be going to theaters on Christmas Day, but we do plan to see THE FORCE AWAKENS on my birthday (New Year’s Day).

 

Do you enjoy getting presents for you friends and family? Do you buy your gifts or go the homemade route?

I love getting presents for the people I care about, but sometimes it can be stressful because I always worry I’ll get someone something they don’t want. Usually I buy gifts because I don’t have a whole lot of extra time for crafty things, but one year I bound books for people, and one year I went on a major knitting kick and made a couple pairs of mittens for my mom. You’d think, since I’m a writer and a creative person, that I would feel more confident in giving handmade gifts, but I find it a lot less stressful just to shop for pre-made items.

Is it cold where you live? Have you ever had a white Christmas?

In Maine, where I used to live, it can get super cold, sometimes even down to the single digits (Fahrenheit). It’s very common to have a white Christmas there. Here, though, I’m not sure of the exact temperature range. I just know that it’s a fair deal warmer. A few days ago, we had a teeny tiny snowfall but, sadly, nothing accumulated.

What’s on your Christmas list this year?

Books.

Coffee.

More books.

A Lamborghini.

Coffee.

Even more books.

Another Lamborghini.

Other books.

More coffee.

Gift card to a bookstore.

Gift card to a coffee shop.

One million dollars.

You get the picture.

What’s your favorite Christmas song?

 

What does your Christmas tree look like?

Like amazingness.

Okay, so my iPod camera isn't spectacular. But trust me, the tree does look better in person.

Also, look at all those presents!

 

What are you reading in December? (Anything festive?)

I haven’t read anything festive this December, but I have been binge-reading A SERIES OF UNFORTUNATE EVENTS. Also, I plan to re-read Jane Austen's PERSUASION because it’s kind of my own personal tradition to at least start it around Christmas every year. And, of course, I’ll tackle whatever books I get for Christmas.

 

Are you an organized little elf or are you still shopping/preparing on Christmas Eve?

Let me just point out that I am almost 5’7” tall, so “little elf” might not be an accurate description of me. I’m more like a Mirkwood elf. That said, yes, all my pre-Christmas shopping is done. Usually I end up buying a few more odds and ends after Christmas because I always forget to add someone to my list and then I remember and freak out a little and rush to the store to get something cool but not completely useless for them. But I do try to finish the majority of my shopping two weeks in advance so I’m not panicking about last minute gift buying and wrapping because honestly, why kill the holidays with unnecessary stress? Stress can come after, like when you realize you forgot to buy a gift for your best friend (not that I’ve ever done that, but it could happen).

 

How early do you start to get into the Christmas spirit?

Pretty much right after I finish eating Thanksgiving dinner.

 

Do you make any Christmas crafts? Decorations? Send physical Christmas cards?

No, sorry, I believe you have mistaken me for an interesting person. On some level, I’d like to be that cool crafty girl who sends homemade cards to everyone, but I have neither the budget nor the motivation, so I’ll just have to stick to being mildly jealous of those who do.

What’s the menu for Christmas Day?!

Food. (Bet you never saw THAT coming.)

Okay, in all seriousness, we’re making ham, mandarin orange salad, Christmas salad, stuffing, corn pudding, and probably a few other things that I’m forgetting. We’re also making pie (tri-berry and German apple). Our fridge is a little bit full right now (translation: GAH, WHAT DO WE DO? THERE’S NOT ENOUGH SPACE!), and I think we might end up eating leftovers until December 2016, so yeah.

 

What makes it FEEL like Christmas to you? (Weather, specific tradition, food, smell, person, etc.?)

Honestly, the air smells different when it gets colder, and the world just has this blue and grey cast to it in December. It feels rather nostalgic, in a good but painful way. It’s like this every year.

 

Do you have relatives coming? Excited? Nervous?

Nope, I have no relatives coming for Christmas day. My dad’s twin and his wife live relatively close to me, and we’ll probably meet up with them sometime after Christmas, but that’s it.

 

What famous Christmas character do you most identify with? (Scrooge, Elf, Tiny Tim, the Grinch, Santa, etc.)

Umm, maybe Elf because sometimes I get obnoxiously excited about Christmas.

 

If you were to start a new Christmas tradition, what would it be?

I think it would be a nice tradition to buy an entire bookstore every year, just for me. I’m not sure how we’d fit that into our budget, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.

What Christmas movies do you like to watch this time of year or what’s your favorite?

Most years we watch IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE on Christmas Eve, so I’d have to say that one is my favorite.

What’s your favorite Christmasy book or book with a favorite Christmasy part?

Would you doubt my love of Christmas if I said I didn’t have one? It’s weird, because as much as I get excited about Christmas, I enjoy experiencing it firsthand rather than consuming it secondhand through media. I’m not a huge fan of Christmas-themed stories, so I tend to avoid them. (Probably the main reason why I enjoy IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE is that I’ve watched it with family so many times, it’s become almost a scrapbook of memories.) I think if someone wrote a Christmas novel with tragedy and betrayal and murder, I would be down for that, but most Christmas stories are too happy feely and gold-colored and Christmas for me is blue and muted so they just don’t fit the mood.

 

Well, that’s it little coffee beans. I’m not going to think of new questions or nominate anyone today because Christmas is so close, and I imagine a lot of you will be busy. But, if you really want to do this tag, by all means, knock yourself out.

Oh, and by the way, MERRY CHRISTMAS, MY LITTLE COFFEE BEANS, MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

Unsolicited Advice--Part Three: In Which I Further Abuse My List-Making Rights

Fun Fact of the Day:  Check out Black Ivory and see what horrors are enacted on the face of this earth. I may be a coffee enthusiast, but even I wouldn’t go that far. To each his own, I guess.

Folks, the blessed month of November is almost here, and if you’ve followed me for any length of time, you know what has me so excited. NaNoWriMo!!! *cue the excited happy dance that leaves people questioning my sanity.* Relax, no need to worry—we already know I’m crazy.

During the lovely month of pumpkin pie, pumpkin spice coffee, pumpkin muffins, and even more pumpkin (October for short), I have drawn anchor and set sail across the perilous ocean of NaNo prep. For the sake of consistency, I will once more arrange my thoughts in a list.

1)      Since I harbor some ambitious goals, I need to warm up my writing muscles. I recently finished editing my last work, which means I haven’t drafted anything in a while. Jumping into NaNoWriMo cold turkey might not be the brightest plan. So I’m gathering all the ideas that sprang into my head as I wrote The Interesting Book, and I’m recording them in short story form. Maybe then they’ll leave me in peace.

My only problem here is that I am notoriously bad at keeping short stories short. Once upon a time, I started a brief piece that transformed into a trilogy and ate me alive. Which is why I must practice this skill. Granted, an accidental novel isn’t a weakness—it simply means that you have more meat to work with than you thought.

 

2)      Since I plan to generate an obscene amount of fiction in just thirty days, I should make sure I have all my ducklings in a row. Now, I’m not the planning type. I can outline until I’m blue in the face, but I invariably wander off on tangents. However, it will help if I have a theme in mind, as well as characters, some idea of the world, and definitely the conflict. This will be easier for me, because I’m going all NaNoRebel and finishing a draft I’ve already begun.

But even if I were to start NaNoing with no conflict in mind, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. I’m a panster, so I’ll think of something. Probably. But I run the risk of losing traction and time if I’m not even sure about the inciting incident. Plus, if I have at least a vague notion of where I’m headed, then I won’t have to backtrack so much when I’m editing later on.

3)      Since I will be relying heavily on caffeine during November, I am…cue drumroll…quitting coffee. Say what? I know—you are free to admit me to the nearest mental hospital at your convenience. But remember how I talked about moods and taking care of myself? Well, I’m not quitting coffee for good. But after a while, those customary two-plus cups a day become commonplace—no longer quite so satisfying. And half the effect of coffee is its surprising newness—at least for me.

So I’m quitting for the rest of October, because I want November to be a clean slate. And I want my handy brewable muse to be fresh and exciting, (but not like Black Ivory.) I need to take care of myself, and part of that is training my body to avoid addictions and hang-ups. Frankly, I want to drink coffee because I love it, not because I need it. Since I stopped four days ago, it’s been difficult. But I never want to slip into a rut where life is boring and nothing sparks of energy. That said, you are free to judge my sidewalk philosophy at your leisure.

 

Like working out, writing is hard and demanding, and though I don’t always enjoy each moment, the exertion is always worth it—no matter the outcome. But I also need to avoid overstressing myself and pulling a muscle. If I’m not careful, I could cause serious damage. November is a crunched month, whether you aim for 50K or more (or less). Which is why I made a list of ways to remind myself that sanity and health are also important.

(Oooh, another list!)

1)      Exercise—every day. I don’t have to run 7.3 miles or do 56.8 jumping jacks or 391.4 sit-ups. But extricating myself from my recliner every now and then is a good idea. If you find you’re sitting and staring blankly at the computer, sure that some virus has turned your brain into a piece of slimy, wet duct tape, you might as well take a break and get your blood flowing. I’ll read or listen to music while walking, or I’ll wander outside in the fresh air. If I don’t stay active, I get depressed, and ideas don’t come, and words don’t flow, and writing is pointless. Don’t be a slave driver. Remember why you loved writing in the first place, and work to hold on to the warm fuzzy feelings.

2)      Take breaks. I realize this sounds redundant. It isn’t really. Sometimes, I’ll be writing, and I’ll think, Hmm, fudge would be delicious right about now. Granted, it may be my inner procrastinator taking a dive for the steering wheel. But sometimes I get my best inspiration over a pot of fudge that is destined to be either too mushy or two hard or too granular, but never too perfect for words. (I also like cookies—but who doesn’t?) Go to the sea shore, smell the salt, and imagine you have wings like the seagulls. Or take a drive. Paint a picture—maybe one of your characters. (I drew a storyboard for TIB.) Live.

3)      Read. I know that seems irrelevant, just a bit of no-brainer advice inserted like steroids to bulk up this list. Writers read—it’s why they write. But I personally forget, in my excitement over my own words, to glance over another’s. Partially, it’s because my inner editor does not discriminate and will tear apart anyone’s work, not just my own. But how can I be expected to produce anything exciting if I’m not feeding my mind? (Be careful, though, that you don’t accidentally plagiarize.)

4)      Watch movies. Maybe I’m the worst writer ever to suggest this. Others will tell you not to. But here’s the thing. If you’re working hard for however many hours a day, pounding on your keyboard and drinking far too much caffeine for your own good, reading a book can be miserable. It takes too much thinking when all you want to do is veg. Movies give you a chance to see, in a couple hours, an entire story arc with all the themes, moods, plots, and subplots. I call it intravenous inspiration because it’s so effortless. And I can’t say enough about cramming your head with brain fodder to keep the writer’s block at bay.

Well…that concludes my outpouring of unsolicited advice. Thank you for bearing with me. I wish you a very happy and productive NaNo prep.

As an aside, I feel I need to apologize for the formatting errors that keep popping up. Rest assured, I have done my best to correct them and will continue to do so. Please bear with me, though, if glitches persist. After all, I am only human, and the internet is indomitable. *smirk*