So I entered into NaNoWriMo again. It’s epic and awesome to balance this with life. I mean, a sick puppy, a just-home husband, a hyper dog, a cat who loves to tease them all, and the fulfillment of my last 2 weeks at work. Also looking into going back to school for a teaching certificate. And hoping that I can find enough substitute teaching work to pay the bills.
It really just means that I devote the time between dinner (which is a late dinner, about 8:30-9 on most nights) and bed for writing. I’m so glad it’s coming to me. Ever since I decided I was going to quit, I’ve had things to write about again. I was just miserable for about the last three or four months. I would sit and stare at my computer, or worse, I would sit and doodle on my paper at a coffee shop, thinking that I knew what I wanted to write about, but I was just unable to do so. Nothing would come. It was the most helpless feeling I’ve ever gone through.
And worse was when I got a new fan, someone who wanted the next book. And I wanted to write it, but there I was, drawing loopy flowers and scratching out the words that I forced onto the lines.
Then, suddenly, my boss decided that instead of scheduling me for two or three box office shifts (“to supplement the hours”), he scheduled me for four. First, I can’t stand a full box office shift. I don’t like selling tickets! There, I said it. Actually, I sort of hate it. I’m not a box person. I almost quit when I saw the schedule. But I didn’t. I just went home in a rage. Second,I drive a long ways, and it sucks to drive the far to work reduced hours (box office shifts for us are 4.5 to 5 hours long) and to do work that I can’t stand, and to do it with a micro-managing boss who looms over my shoulder and tells me all the things I’m doing wrong. I just want to tell him that he hired an assistant manager, not a box person, and that I’ve had it and I’m gone. It’s completely different personality types to be happy with these rolls. What it comes down to, is it makes no sense to drive 85 miles a day, five days a week, to work less than 30 hours. (I haven’t even mentioned that I get called some pretty nasty names by customers, and in general I have to eat whatever rudeness they give me while being the kindest and most sympathetic person I can stand to be. Oh, the joys of customer service.) So, I’m quitting my job. (And I think at least one other manager is following my lead; I haven’t even touched on the stuff that is really going on, I just feel I’ve sidetracked us long enough) I only hope that I can find enough work elsewhere to pay for groceries. My coworkers think I’ll do great as a substitute teacher, and I take a great relief in knowing that if a kid ever gets out of hand with me, I can at least send him/her to the principal. Much better than my current recourse with the customer, which is…well, it’s the nonemergency police number.
But as I write the NaNo this year, I’m scared witless. What the crap am I doing and what is going to happen? This is all happening in November, too, so I can’t help but feel that it and writing are interconnected in some strange, cosmic sense. They say National Novel Writing Month is a month of literary abandon, but in my case, it is also abandon of sense in general. How is my life’s situation going to influence the novel? Will it be a train wreck? Will it turn into something beautiful? I thought about not doing it this year, but I had this feeling that I had to do it. Same as quitting.
Here’s to embarking on multiple adventures simultaneously!
Wishing my fellow writers all the best,
Your Dearest Nicolette.