Archive | 11:09 am

From the Archives: Swimming Stream of Consciousness

11 Nov

Today, as the final day of my stay-cation, I was thinking about swimming for a little exercise, but I didn’t really feel like exercising. And since I’m participating in NaNoWriMo, I have a whole new appreciation for effective procrastination. So I combined the two (wanting to swim but not actually exercise + procrastination) and found myseld perusing the PP archives, having decided that READING about swimming would effectively take care of all desires at once.

Which is how I stumbled upon an old post that both provides frightening insight into how my brain works, and also cured me of any urge to walk to the pool today. Since it’s Friday, I figure you’re all looking to piss away a bit more time than usual during your lunch break, so here’s a repost from September 2010.

This locker room is what I would expect to find in a prison.

Except with more people in it.

And probably lice.

Soap on a rope!

Wow. That is one naked woman.

Why is she sitting on a chair in the shower?

Note to self: don’t ever sit naked on a chair in a public shower. Gross.

I’m glad the lifeguard didn’t ask for my ID today.

I must look urban.

I wonder if they would’ve stopped Alan.

Wow. The water is WARM.

I bet I’ll overheat.

Sweating in the water is weird.

But it happens.

Why does that sign say “Water Running?”

I don’t SEE any water running.

<Four laps later>

Ah ha! They mean “water running” as in “people running” in the water.

Not the water running.

That’s embarrassing. I’ve been here a half dozen times looking for running water.

That explains why the fat woman always hangs out in this lane and doesn’t swim.

Although actually, she’s not running. She’s water-standing.

I wonder if I’ll get kicked out of this lane?

I am hot.

I wonder if the water tastes saltier because I am sweating?

Is my key still stuck to my head?

<Patting back of head while breast-stroking>

It is! Good!

What would I do if it wasn’t there?

How ironic would that be?

If by trying to protect my stuff, I end up losing the  key.

Which would be worse: having someone steal my stuff because I left the key to my lock on the deck, or not being able to get to my stuff because I tied the key to my goggles and it fell off and disappeared into the pool drain?

Not sure.

Those girls have on the exact same suit.

I wonder if they’re on a team together?

If they are, then it’s not a good team because I’m faster than them.

I wonder if the lifeguard would actually notice if someone drowned?

Are they allowed to talk on their cell phones on duty?

I bet they are breaking the rules.

<Scanning bottom of pool to make sure no swimmers need to be rescued.>

How weird that I can’t wait to get out of the water to cool down.

I bet that’s why that woman was sitting on a chair in the shower: heat stroke.

Don’t get it right – just get it written.

11 Nov

Quiz: I say, “NaNoWriMo,” and you say: 

  1. Nice to meet you, Mork from Ork!
  2. Lay off the wine!
  3. How many words do you have?

The correct answer is #3 (although #2 may have validity, depending on the day).

If you haven’t heard of it, NaNoWriMo is National Novel Writing Month. Every November (since 1999, officially), writers around the world sit down and commit themselves to cranking out a novel (well, technically it’s kind of a novella because the word count is 50,000) during the 30 days of November. Last year over 200,000 writers participated.

It’s pretty great because it forces you to live by the adage, “Don’t get it write, get it written.” When you’re trying to crank out roughly 2,000 words each day on a cohesive theme, there’s no room for editing, ego or over-thinking. You just show up, put the words on the page and keep moving. It’s a pretty great exercise to force people into a writing habit.

The year I lived in France, I wrote two drafts of a manuscript. I believe the final word count was somewhere around 130,000, which is still fairly short. I was able to do it by imposing discipline on myself: every day I didn’t let myself leave the apartment until I’d put at least 1,000 words down, and I had to find another 1,000 before the day was up. Some days I wrote as if in a creative fugue, but most days I just muscled through it. But you know what? At the end of a a few months, I had a complete manuscript.

Since returning (eight – gasp!) years ago, that manuscript has sat in a little electronic folder on laptop after laptop. I haven’t touched it since I wrote it, mainly because I got sick of it. However, it’s also paralyzed me and prevented me from moving on and writing something else… I keep kind of feeling like I shouldn’t move on until I finish the second draft and put it to bed.

Well, I’m tired of waiting. Tired of having it sit there like a pile of cold peas, telling me I can’t move on to dessert until I eat them. And they aren’t even warm any more. (If they ever were is debatable.)

So here goes… if you don’t see as many pithy posts over the next few weeks, assume I’m off shooting for a word count in the NaNoWriMo world. And for my fellow writers out there – good luck!