Just like that, NaNo’s over: And now back to writing

Let’s talk about what I did in the month of November.  Namely:

  • Watched an inordinate amount of Harry Potter and Doctor Who
  • In celebration of The Toddler’s 2nd birthday, made a two layer chocolate cookie cake topped with approximately 13 tons of green buttercream frosting, because green is The Toddler’s favorite color and everything is green.  Even when it’s not, it’s green
  • Prepared for and subsequently did not experience Snow-mageddon: November 2013
  • Triumphantly prepared my fourth consecutive Thanksgiving turkey and coordinating side dishes, followed by eating waaaay too much aforementioned turkey and side dishes
  • Gained some weight
  • Finally bought my Rambling Jour t-shirt that I’d been threatening to buy for months, namely, because someone had to finish the leftover moscato and I was left attended with the Internet.  Look at my search history: Sears.  Best Buy.  Target.  Ulta.  Sephora.  Old Navy.  It could have been much, much worse.

Let’s talk about what I didn’t do in the month of November:

  • Write.

Well, thank God that’s over.

Now that we’re firmly in the month of December, I can go back to writing and dieting.  I’ve been a little lax with both as of late and, let’s be frank, this kid hasn’t worked out since July.  July.  I talked a big game in preparation for NaNo this year; all rebellious and “I’m just going to finish Random Contemporary this month, so take that naysayers.”

Nay.  The most consecutive writing I did in the month of November was Thanksgiving night, after half-hearted online shopping and robust wine drinking.  The Hubs had to work on Thanksgiving, so I eventually just got bummed out and watched a Modern Family marathon until I fell asleep on the couch.  Sad.

Then I woke up, had some leftovers and Mountain Dew, and went to bed.

And now it’s December: the most fattening time of the year.  As we ate Thanksgiving dinner (which was actually Thanksgiving lunch), I verbally planned out Christmas dinner: meatloaf, mashed potatoes, homemade yeast rolls, and what will be my first attempt at homemade stuffing.  I can’t plan out my novels, but I can plan out lunch a month ahead of time.


I spent a lot of time thinking about writing this long weekend and ceremoniously holding a notebook and pen.  My problem right now is that I know where I want With Me Now‘s plot to go (even if I don’t write it down), but it’s the matter of actually sitting down and writing.  The holidays are distracting.  Day Job is so out of control busy that I want to spend my lunch breaks staring at the wall regaining my sanity rather than writing.  And, although I’m traditionally the Grinch during the holidays, this year I’m trying to be excited for Christmas and decorating and whatever.  Jingle bells.  Santa smells.  Run the other way.

Obviously, I’m off to a bad start with being festive Heather instead of grumpy Heather.  But my Christmas tree is up.  The advent calendar is up.  Fa la la la la.

I think I need to set more manageable writing goals for this month.  Not these grandiose “I’ll finish my novel this month!” but more like “I’m going to fumble my way through this damned sex scene by the end of the week if it kills me.”

I need to write like I go into labor.  Example: Two years ago, despite the fact I was irritable and like, seventy-two weeks pregnant, I made a delicious turkey that The Hubs had to get out of the oven because I was the size of a small planet.  On Black Friday, I had a doctor’s appointment at 8:30am, where the doctor pronounced me four centimeters dilated.  Which meant nothing, as I’d spent the last month at three centimeters dilated.  I sent an angry text to my work friend Jocey that I’d see her at work on Monday.  I went home.  I took a shower.  Decorated for Christmas.  Went to the post office.  Got gas.  Went to pick up a bridal shower gift, where at 2:40pm I said to The Preschooler (who was 20 months old at the time), “I think that was a real contraction.”

The Toddler was born at 7:00pm.  Four hours, start to finish.  Boom.

Meanwhile, I’ve been staring at this…shall we say, romantic scene for like a week and am just wandering around the living room like it’s just going to finish itself.  Honestly.  I’m so distracted.

Anyway, happy birthday to The Toddler!!  And now, let the writing begin!!



  1. I can so relate. Holidays provide us with all the excuses we need not to be writing. Sometimes I think I spend more time avoiding the blank page than actually filling it. I wish I could just wire my brain to the computer and just think the words onto the screen. Maybe that would eliminate all the procrastination. Naw, probably not. I would probably just fall asleep and all I’d write would be “zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.”

    1. That’s so funny you mention that because, as I stared at the curser (and not writing) I found myself contemplating the next few paragraphs. I had them, word for word, in my mind–but wasn’t writing. I wish it just automatically spewed itself out. Mine would be a mix was “zzzzzzzz” and “I need a snack.”

  2. In my NaNo project, I just wrote *sex scene goes here* so I could spew out the rest of the story first. NaNo hurt me. I feel like I’ve been blinking into daylight the last two days because this thing called real life is strange.

    1. Ack!! What a good idea!!! I was frankly too distracted with TV the last few weeks, with the Doctor Who 50th Anniversary (I watched 13 hours of DW. 13. Hours.) and last night’s Walking Dead midseason finale. Days like that are rare….so writing took a back seat. So did putting on legit pants, but you know. It’s all good.

      1. I looooove Dr. Who, but I was a good girl and didn’t watch any of it. But, wow! Walking Dead?! I couldn’t stop crying last night! What are these pants you speak of? I only wear pajamas.

      2. WD was phenomenal—though, at one point I loudly declared if Daryl died, I was going in the other room and wouldn’t watch anymore. I’m not sure what the kids these days call pants such as these. Yoga pants? I feel as if I could wear them to the grocery store, but probably not to the mall.

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