Even though I hate large portions of the story I wrote last year (that story will remain forever hidden in the deepest of archives on my computer), I couldn't wait to sign up for another 30 days of NaNoWriMo insanity. Last year -- you remember! -- I signed up to do NaNo, then I broke my wrist. Yeah. That wasn't among the brightest of strategies, I'll admit. BUT! I didn't just manage to win NaNoWriMo, I met my goal with four days to spare!
This year, I have a new tool in my arsenal: Write or Die.
Write or Die (Putting the "Prod" in Productivity) is basically a motivational tool using negative reinforcement to keep you writing. The link above will take you to the main screen, and if you click the Web App button on the left, it jumps you to a small box where you can get started. I recommend fiddling around with it for five minutes to get a feel for the different grace periods and how effective you find the different levels of consequence. I'm not too fond of Kamikaze level consequences (which deletes your work one word at a time if you stop writing for too long), but I do prefer the Evil grace period (Don't even think about taking a sip of that tea! Write!). The idea is to get that inner editor silenced, after all.
I've even sucked Penelope and Emma into using it for their own NaNo stories. While Penelope has thrown herself into the NaNo experience with gusto, Emma has a particularly persistent internal editor. Couple that with her natural tendency towards perfectionism, and you have a recipe for disaster. (Why are you hitting yourself? Why are you hitting yourself? Why are you hitting yourself?) I set both girls up with the Normal consequence (they especially like hearing Banana Phone) and the Forgiving grace period, set them an attainable goal and time limit, and turn them loose.
While there are downloadable versions available for a reasonable fee, the Web App works just fine for me. (Ask me again, though, after I've been stuck for a while with my own internal editor and no internet connection.)
Give it a try, and Happy NaNoing!
Showing posts with label NaNoWriMo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label NaNoWriMo. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Monday, November 8, 2010
this is what 1155 words looks like
"If I don't go to school, how will I learn?"
Oh, dear.
I hereby promise that I won't feel insulted if I catch flack or become the subject of side conversations for saying so, but questions like the one above leave me feeling sad.
My kids have never been to school, and they're learning quite a lot -- in spite of life's recent efforts to ensure otherwise. Since we've been dealing with my wrist, the past two months have seen a massive decrease in the frequency of formal lessons. There are days where we feel like we're living in the car. With the girls' speech therapy, my twice-weekly OT appointments, the girls' fortnightly Wednesday ruckusing-for-homeschoolers group, the dog's fortnightly Wednesday playgroup, soccer, karate, hip-hop, and ballet-tap-jazz each week, I'm glad we bought the audiobook version of our history text.
We're also reading several other books in audiobook form -- Meet Josephina (for next Wednesday) and the entire Unfortunate Events series. In science, we have unexpectedly focused on biology -- we're watching the Life series and the Becoming Human series; I think there's a show about Darwin somewhere on the queue, as well. Spelling has been hijacked by their speech lists and grammar has been shoved aside in favor of their NaNoWriMo stories. (For several days, now, the girls have heard me bemoaning the fact that none of my characters are cooperating. I started out writing a Young Adult novel, and now it's a mainstream mystery. Nothing in my novel is where I put it in October. Today, Penny met me at the door as I entered, bearing the sushi for our book club (we read Mr. Popper's Penguins); she was ecstatic because a new character for her story had appeared out of thin air. She hadn't planned for him, but there he was, and she wrote so much that she filled up 75% of an 8.5 x 11 sheet!)
We started this school year as eclectic school-at-homers, and I don't know what we are now -- except maybe seat-of-the-pantsers -- but the learning hasn't slowed down. They certainly don't need textbooks, an overworked teacher, and twenty other kids around them in order for learning to happen.
Humans are a driven species, and we can't easily be stopped. (Just think about the last time you really wanted your kid to fall asleep a little early. It didn't happen, did it?) We didn't need to go to school so we could learn how to walk or talk -- walking and talking were things that we learned naturally. Babies see a toddler walking, and they try to pull up on the edge of the table and make their feet do the right thing. Toddlers see a four-year-old running or jumping, and they mimic these motions, trying to run as fast or jump as high. Five-year-olds see their parents or older siblings writing, and they grab a crayon and paper, and try to write something that makes a word they know. Learning is a process that happens naturally, and it's something that we are intuitively drawn to; it is not something that's done to us, but something that we initiate and control as individuals.
Although I am weary at the things I hear from my non-homeschooling friends (It's okay for you, you were a teacher! I would never have the patience! My kids and I would probably strangle each other! How do you know what to teach them?), the last thing I expect from any of them is some sort of conversion. Admittedly, I would break into song if only a few of them realized that our decision to homeschool was simply a decision to do what was best for our kids -- just like seeking out various therapies were their decisions to do what was best for their kids. When a child needs something, a parent will do whatever she can to meet that need. The solutions Dan and I found just happened to include homeschooling, and that's the solution we liked best.
I have a very hard time believing that my non-homeschooling friends could even begin to think that learning is some mysterious thing that only happens in that town-owned building. They're all intelligent women and fantastic moms, and I know they love and respect their children as deeply as I do my children. I know they help their kids follow their passions and explore life with gusto. I've seen them in action, and they're lacking nothing.
So, why does the question above make me feel sad? It's a damn cute thing for a five-year-old to say. This little boy loves school, and can't wait to get there, because learning is important to him. He's a sponge, and that's something to crow about.
I feel sad because for me, that question is also a boundary. I don't know if it's okay for me to joke that my kids have never been to school, but they've learned quite a lot. As a left-leaning, attachment-parenting, homeschooling freak in a sea (no! in a school! hahahaha!) of normal individuals, I often wish I could see a few buoys or even a lighthouse in the distance. I really don't want to run aground.
When I'm part of a conversation about one friend's frustrations at dealing with thoughtless individuals, lip service, and a Shelob's Lair of red tape just to get her child the help he needs, I don't know what sort of reaction is palatable from me. If I just commiserate, and hope things get better, am I being callous? If I try to reassure her that homeschooling isn't as hard as it sounds (knowing that she has often thought, "Oh, I should just teach him myself!"), am I pressuring her to do something that she's not sure is best? If I encourage her to keep fighting and share what little information I know from my own time as a high-school teacher, am I brushing her off and sending the message that I think she'd suck at homeschooling her son? (She'd totally rock, btw.)
I want to support my friends, not push a homeschooling agenda. Other times, I want to be the goofball that I am, not insinuate that Homeschooling Is Better. But sometimes I do want to say something that could provide some food for thought -- especially if that friend seems frustrated with the solutions she has already been offered.
I suppose my wariness and frequent censorship in such situations is really no different from the tendency of my non-homeschooling friends to inadvertently cause me to wince as one of them says, for the twelfth time, that she would never have the patience to homeschool her kids. Both reactions stem from the desires to connect, to disregard unimportant differences, and to enjoy and celebrate our friendships, knowing that we're with people whose struggles are similar enough to our own that they've drawn us together.
Shit. I just learned something!
Oh, dear.
I hereby promise that I won't feel insulted if I catch flack or become the subject of side conversations for saying so, but questions like the one above leave me feeling sad.
My kids have never been to school, and they're learning quite a lot -- in spite of life's recent efforts to ensure otherwise. Since we've been dealing with my wrist, the past two months have seen a massive decrease in the frequency of formal lessons. There are days where we feel like we're living in the car. With the girls' speech therapy, my twice-weekly OT appointments, the girls' fortnightly Wednesday ruckusing-for-homeschoolers group, the dog's fortnightly Wednesday playgroup, soccer, karate, hip-hop, and ballet-tap-jazz each week, I'm glad we bought the audiobook version of our history text.
We're also reading several other books in audiobook form -- Meet Josephina (for next Wednesday) and the entire Unfortunate Events series. In science, we have unexpectedly focused on biology -- we're watching the Life series and the Becoming Human series; I think there's a show about Darwin somewhere on the queue, as well. Spelling has been hijacked by their speech lists and grammar has been shoved aside in favor of their NaNoWriMo stories. (For several days, now, the girls have heard me bemoaning the fact that none of my characters are cooperating. I started out writing a Young Adult novel, and now it's a mainstream mystery. Nothing in my novel is where I put it in October. Today, Penny met me at the door as I entered, bearing the sushi for our book club (we read Mr. Popper's Penguins); she was ecstatic because a new character for her story had appeared out of thin air. She hadn't planned for him, but there he was, and she wrote so much that she filled up 75% of an 8.5 x 11 sheet!)
We started this school year as eclectic school-at-homers, and I don't know what we are now -- except maybe seat-of-the-pantsers -- but the learning hasn't slowed down. They certainly don't need textbooks, an overworked teacher, and twenty other kids around them in order for learning to happen.
Humans are a driven species, and we can't easily be stopped. (Just think about the last time you really wanted your kid to fall asleep a little early. It didn't happen, did it?) We didn't need to go to school so we could learn how to walk or talk -- walking and talking were things that we learned naturally. Babies see a toddler walking, and they try to pull up on the edge of the table and make their feet do the right thing. Toddlers see a four-year-old running or jumping, and they mimic these motions, trying to run as fast or jump as high. Five-year-olds see their parents or older siblings writing, and they grab a crayon and paper, and try to write something that makes a word they know. Learning is a process that happens naturally, and it's something that we are intuitively drawn to; it is not something that's done to us, but something that we initiate and control as individuals.
Although I am weary at the things I hear from my non-homeschooling friends (It's okay for you, you were a teacher! I would never have the patience! My kids and I would probably strangle each other! How do you know what to teach them?), the last thing I expect from any of them is some sort of conversion. Admittedly, I would break into song if only a few of them realized that our decision to homeschool was simply a decision to do what was best for our kids -- just like seeking out various therapies were their decisions to do what was best for their kids. When a child needs something, a parent will do whatever she can to meet that need. The solutions Dan and I found just happened to include homeschooling, and that's the solution we liked best.
I have a very hard time believing that my non-homeschooling friends could even begin to think that learning is some mysterious thing that only happens in that town-owned building. They're all intelligent women and fantastic moms, and I know they love and respect their children as deeply as I do my children. I know they help their kids follow their passions and explore life with gusto. I've seen them in action, and they're lacking nothing.
So, why does the question above make me feel sad? It's a damn cute thing for a five-year-old to say. This little boy loves school, and can't wait to get there, because learning is important to him. He's a sponge, and that's something to crow about.
I feel sad because for me, that question is also a boundary. I don't know if it's okay for me to joke that my kids have never been to school, but they've learned quite a lot. As a left-leaning, attachment-parenting, homeschooling freak in a sea (no! in a school! hahahaha!) of normal individuals, I often wish I could see a few buoys or even a lighthouse in the distance. I really don't want to run aground.
When I'm part of a conversation about one friend's frustrations at dealing with thoughtless individuals, lip service, and a Shelob's Lair of red tape just to get her child the help he needs, I don't know what sort of reaction is palatable from me. If I just commiserate, and hope things get better, am I being callous? If I try to reassure her that homeschooling isn't as hard as it sounds (knowing that she has often thought, "Oh, I should just teach him myself!"), am I pressuring her to do something that she's not sure is best? If I encourage her to keep fighting and share what little information I know from my own time as a high-school teacher, am I brushing her off and sending the message that I think she'd suck at homeschooling her son? (She'd totally rock, btw.)
I want to support my friends, not push a homeschooling agenda. Other times, I want to be the goofball that I am, not insinuate that Homeschooling Is Better. But sometimes I do want to say something that could provide some food for thought -- especially if that friend seems frustrated with the solutions she has already been offered.
I suppose my wariness and frequent censorship in such situations is really no different from the tendency of my non-homeschooling friends to inadvertently cause me to wince as one of them says, for the twelfth time, that she would never have the patience to homeschool her kids. Both reactions stem from the desires to connect, to disregard unimportant differences, and to enjoy and celebrate our friendships, knowing that we're with people whose struggles are similar enough to our own that they've drawn us together.
Shit. I just learned something!
Sunday, October 31, 2010
It was a dark and stormy night.
Here I am, on the verge of my first NaNoWriMo and the excitement is truly contagious. HOW contagious? Penny & Emma have each signed up on the YWP site to write 500-word stories. They've been working on their characters' backgrounds, and thinking about their plots, and are looking forward to telling their stories. They've even got more writing buddies than I have! (More than a few local homeschoolers are doing NaNo with their kids, and on one of my lists, we all exchanged our kids' usernames.)
As for me, I think I'm ready. I certainly don't have any more time for preparation, in any case. The most frustrating thing about my preparation efforts is the fact that my characters and plot kept morphing into things I didn't expect. Yeah, I know that's the way it works, but it's still confusing when the characters who were born in my head become virtually unrecognizable, yet I must still work with them.
In other news, my wrist is recovering well. According to my surgeon, I'm right in the middle of the progress curve. My OT therapist disagrees somewhat, using the word "gangbusters" to describe my progress. (I'm inclined to agree with my therapist, though, since by the time I saw the surgeon, I'd had almost a whole week with far more splint time than usual. Dan was out of town, and we had more appointments each day than I care to remember. "While out and about" was my primary Splint-Required activity.) Either way, I'm free of the splint, and I've been given clearance to do whatever the hell I want to, as long as my wrist can handle the activity or weight. All this bodes quite well for my November plans.
Now, it's time to sign off so I can get Chewbone upstairs and plugged in before midnight. Yes, I'm going to write tonight. Seriously? You doubted that?
As for me, I think I'm ready. I certainly don't have any more time for preparation, in any case. The most frustrating thing about my preparation efforts is the fact that my characters and plot kept morphing into things I didn't expect. Yeah, I know that's the way it works, but it's still confusing when the characters who were born in my head become virtually unrecognizable, yet I must still work with them.
In other news, my wrist is recovering well. According to my surgeon, I'm right in the middle of the progress curve. My OT therapist disagrees somewhat, using the word "gangbusters" to describe my progress. (I'm inclined to agree with my therapist, though, since by the time I saw the surgeon, I'd had almost a whole week with far more splint time than usual. Dan was out of town, and we had more appointments each day than I care to remember. "While out and about" was my primary Splint-Required activity.) Either way, I'm free of the splint, and I've been given clearance to do whatever the hell I want to, as long as my wrist can handle the activity or weight. All this bodes quite well for my November plans.
Now, it's time to sign off so I can get Chewbone upstairs and plugged in before midnight. Yes, I'm going to write tonight. Seriously? You doubted that?
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