With Day 2 behind me and Day 3 just beginning, I feel as though I am getting into my stride early.

I am fortunate to have a slight advantage over some of the new writers in NaNoWriMo in that I have spent many years writing.  During several of those years, I even worked at it full-time, writing between 14-16 hours a day even.  This kind of manic writing where nothing else enters your mind does not frighten me.

Day two is coming to a close. My word count is at nearly 3000 words. By the time you read this, it may very well be up and over that because I plan on writing until Midnight, and then slamming the rest of my Coors Light tall can, and heading off to bed. Chris is going to take the first feeding of the night so I should be able to rest well.

This is the most mind-draining/mind-exhilarating journey ever for me. So many stories are flooding my mind. 

Today is the first day of NaNoWriMo, and I am at a lost for words when it comes to how much I have missed writing. Call me a sap, but I have nearly been to tears the last hour while writing. There are so many suppressed and pent-up feelings inside of me--so many things I want to say, and I am finally at the point in my life where I feel healed and oh-so-ready to say what I want to say. For those of you who read this, and who have not had the chance to talk to me in person (or on AIM), I am writing a memoir. Albeit a highly fictionalized memoir because everyone knows the memory of a 5-year-old is faulty, it is nonetheless my life. I am a former trailer park kid, and the stigmata of it has been etched deep into me.

Aaaaaaannnnnnnnd we’re off.

November 1st brought about a little writing and a lot of alcohol (within reason… it’s not like I was slurring my speech or falling off of my chair).  Call it nerves or fear, I just kept topping my drink.  I can see how writers lean toward alcoholism… the two just seem to walk hand in hand (presumably to keep each other from falling over).

I got just over a thousand words (1073 to be exact) written last night.  It’s important to note that with my wife out of town on business, I’m doing more around the house and with the kids which takes up a lot of my time in the evenings.  Also, my youngest daughter had her semi-final flag football game last night (they lost), so we didn’t get home till later.

As some of you may be aware, I have chosen to take part in NaNoWriMo this year.  For those who are not in the ‘know’, NaNoWriMo is National Novel Writing Month.  Basically, you are expected to write 50,000 words during the month of November.  Yes… 50,000 words.

I didn’t come by this decision easily.  I work full-time, have a large family (wife, four kids and a needy dog), not to mention a lot of interests which take up a lot of my time.  That being said however, NaNoWriMo is a finite project (has a very clear end-date).  I can handle that.

Just a few days left until I begin....

November 1st marks the first day of Nanowrimo--something I learned about my first semester of school as a journalism minor--when insane people from around the globe attempt to write 50,000 words in one month (yes, there are no typos in that phrase--fifty-thousand words in thirty days); and it also marks the day I embark on writing my first novel/memoir called “Tales from a (Former) Trailer Park Kid,” right along with these crazy people. I seriously doubt I will hit even the 25,000-word mark, but I sure as hell can try. 

Content.

That’s why people buy a book.  It isn’t a fancy cover or splashy title.

Content.

When getting ”The Zen of Shaving One’s Balls” compiled, that is what I kept reminding myself.  My second collection of poetry, ”it’s about no longer being a bastard”, had a very definite theme.  The narrator goes through a healing process in that collection, and you can’t help but feel for him/her.  I like that there is power in that collection merely from the fact that you have emotionally invested yourself in this person.  Readers assume I am this narrator, which forces them to feel even more for the pieces.

There must be an easier way to do this.

This thought crosses my mind often as I am creating hard cover copies of my books.  To be fair, it is a painstakingly long process, though one that I thoroughly enjoy (for a time).  I feel that making my own books is an integral part of who I am as a writer.  I believe that book making and writing fit so perfectly together.

There are those who would argue that a writer’s time should be spent writing… and leave the book making to those who are gifted at doing just that.

There is a lot of truth to this statement, though to be honest, I don’t think that a writer can truly appreciate their work until they have poured blood, sweat and tears into its full creation.  I find this is especially true when hard cover binding your work.