NaNoWriMo starts tomorrow! If you have not heard about it before, NaNoWriMo is National Novel Writing Month. The goal of NaNoWriMo is to start writing on November 1 and end the month with 50,000 words of a new novel.

This will be my first crack at NaNoWriMo.

It seems a bit insane to try to write 50,000 words of a new novel smack dab in the middle of the special hell that is distance learning. But for me, it also seems a bit insane not to.

Writing energizes me. When I write regularly, I feel like my best self. When I don’t find the time to write, I fade and wilt.

Distance learning has been kicking my ass. Now, more than ever, I need writing to keep my spirits up. That’s why I am trying NaNoWriMo.

I have always wanted to write novels. I actually wrote the first draft of a novel the year before I got pregnant with Pippa. When I was recovering from postpartum depression, I started working on the second draft of that novel. But that work did not feel right. All I wanted to write about was postpartum depression, so finally, I shelved the novel and started working on my memoir.

After I published my memoir in April 2018, I started working on a couple of different novels. I knew I wanted to write fiction, but I had so many ideas, I did not know where to start. Eventually, I settled on an idea I had for a fantasy series. Long story short, I finished the first draft of the first book in that series last May, which felt like a major victory since here in Pasadena, we were in the midst of the Covid-19 shutdown. I worked on a plan for revisions over the summer and felt ready to whip the book into shape.

Then distance learning started.

Working on my fantasy novel and helping my second grader with distance learning are mutually exclusive activities. I do not have the brain power to do both. I wish I could choose the fantasy novel, but life has gone with Option Bat Shit Crazy: The Distance Learning Edition. I kept trying to chip away at my fantasy novel, but I was interrupted by distance learning demands so often, I could have ripped off my eyebrows with frustration. I am used to having at least a couple of uninterrupted hours to write. Getting interrupted every five minutes because my daughter has been kicked off Google Meets AGAIN is suboptimal, to say the least.

Then, my muse gave me the idea for The Distance Learning Activity Book For Parents Just Barely Holding On To Their Last Shred Of Sanity, and that project really did help me get a firmer grip on my waning sanity. I realized that I have to hit the Pause button on my fantasy novel during distance learning, but I still have to keep writing. I just have to work on writing projects that are bit more lighthearted and do not require hours of uninterrupted focus.

I could just start making another snarky activity book. I have a list of at least five dozen ideas and the challenge will be picking which one to do first. I expect I will make several more activity books next year.

But first, I want to try NaNoWriMo.

In addition to my fantasy series, I have always wanted to write a book series about a regular mom’s regular mom life. No magic, no dragons, and no complicated plots that unfold over the course of seven books. 2020 feels like the perfect year to start writing that sort of book.

The working title for my novel is Confessions Of A Reluctant Room Mom. I am so excited to start tomorrow! I was ready to start a couple of days ago, when I uploaded The Distance Learning Activity Book to Amazon and ordered my author proof copy, but that felt like cheating. I want to start tomorrow, on the first day of November and see how quickly I can write a shitty first draft of a novel. I am a recovering perfectionist, so I think NaNoWriMo will be the perfect challenge for me.

On that note, I better start getting ready for our pandemic-friendly Halloween festivities. Good Lord, what a surreal year this has been. Yep, it’s definitely a good year to try to write 50,00 words in a month!

I have not been keeping up with my blogging or podcasting this month because I have been busy on another project: my second book! It’s called The Distance Learning Activity Book For Parents Just Barely Holding On To Their Last Shred Of Sanity and it is on the verge of being published.

There are merit badges:

A multiple choice test:

Of course, the book would not be complete without some Would You Rather…

And I’m really proud of Distance Learning Bingo:

There are ton of other activities, including the distance learning personality quiz, the survey your child’s school does not have the nerve to send, a picture hunt, and word scramble affirmations. Parents get to build their distance learning wardrobe, create their distance learning nickname, and even make a mascot.

I wish I could say that this book offers salvation from the distance learning horror show. It does not. The only thing that will offer salvation from distance learning is THE END OF DISTANCE LEARNING. Unfortunately, my magic powers are not strong enough for that sort of spell, otherwise I would have rescued us all ages ago. But this book does offer a distraction from the torture of distance learning, and also a few laughs, and hopefully, that will help at least a few parents get a firmer grip on their last shred of sanity.

The book will be on sale on Amazon very, very soon! I’ll update this post as soon as it’s available.

I attended Catholic school for eleven and a half years, from about halfway through first grade until the day I graduated from high school in 1997. I have not practiced Catholicism, or any other formal religion, since 1997, but recently, I have realized that I am still carrying around some toxic beliefs from my Catholic school days.

I am ready to detox that shit from my life.

I was very, very nervous about publishing this episode. “Terrified” might be the better word! I know and love a lot of Catholics, and I don’t want them to feel like I am attacking something that is important to them.

But.

I feel called to do this work.

This episode is the beginning of my Catholic school detox. I’m not exactly sure how this will go. I imagine it will involve a lot of journaling and blogging.

I am going to start rereading the Bible, especially the passages that were emphasized by my teachers and the priests. I am going to consider all the prayers, hymns, rituals, and practices. I am going to dig it all up and look at it critically and intentionally. I am going to question how various Bible passages influenced me and then intentionally reject any ideas, stories or beliefs that I deem toxic.

This is scaring the shit out of me.

That’s why I have to do it.

Over the past several years, as a writer and podcaster, I have been rediscovering and reclaiming my voice.

I think we are all born with a unique voice and all our voices are amazing and awesome. We are not meant to be characters in a dystopian novel, all speaking in a monotone in our matching grey uniforms. We are meant to be vibrantly, gloriously, radiantly different.

But for years, I struggled with claiming my own voice. I was deeply affected by a few life experiences, and instead of shrugging those moments off, I internalized them, let them fester, and put a muzzle on my voice.

Those key life moments were:

• During my senior year of high school, my religion class was working on some sort of vocational worksheet. I sat next to my frenemy and said, “Hey, standup comedian. I bet that would be fun.” My frenemy said, in a snide voice I can still hear in my head, “Yeah, but you would have to be funny to do that.” And fuck, that comment was like a gut punch to my stomach. I am funny, in my own way. Not everyone thinks I am funny, and that is okay. We all have our own unique sense of humor. But I have been told, countless times in my life, that I am absolutely hilarious. In high school, I made people laugh all. the. time. But this one remark, from my frenemy, pulverized me. My frenemy said I was not funny, and her one opinion outweighed the other 99 people who laughed at my humor.
• Not long after, during my first weeks as a freshman in college, I was walking to a dormitory with a friend. I was not destined to stay friends with this particular woman. We had just happened to meet during those early tender friendless days, and latched on to each other. What we had was not really a friendship. It was more like we were the friendship equivalent of life vests until we could meet our actual friends. But as we were walking, I said something, and I can’t remember if I said “shit” or “fuck” or both, but this new friend responded, “Can I ask you something? Do you have to curse so much?” I laughed. I thought she was joking. “Does my swearing offend you?” I asked. “Yes,” she said, in a cold judgmental voice. My whole body was flooded with shame. I apologized and endeavored to swear less. I felt like my potty mouth made me a bad person and that I would not make any friends in college if I swore as much as I am inclined to swear.
• And lastly, I took a creative writing class during my freshman spring and the professor did not like me or my writing. He made that abundantly clear in front of my classmates. I wrote quirky, funny stories. He thought they were a waste of time. What did I know? He was the professor. I was the student. I gave up on my dream of taking more creative writing classes and stuck to my History Major.

After those experiences, I started to silence my voice. I wrote an op-ed column for the college newspaper that was quirky, but I agreed to be the op-ed editor because that would look better on my resume. As the editor, I was not allowed to write columns any more. Then, I went to law school and learned how to write sterile, boring legal documents and hostile, humorless letters. In order to write like a proper lawyer, I had to crush my own unique voice.

But during all those years that I muzzled my voice, I could never silence myself completely. There was my blog, Wendy the Cactus, which shared the adventures of a bitchy cactus. Then there was my other blog, The Cranky Pumpkin, where I started writing whatever felt right and authentic to me.

Having postpartum depression actually helped me reclaim my voice. I thought at first that I had to keep my mental illness a secret, but the secrecy was killing me from the inside. I started to tell people about my experiences, and slowly, I realized that I did not care what other people thought. Some were incredibly supportive. Some were not, but I felt good sharing my story no matter what the reception.

I was starting to stop giving so many fucks about the critics. I was becoming more interested in speaking my mind in the way that feels natural to me.

Strangely enough, being the Room Mom for Pippa’s kindergarten class really helped me break away from my self-imposed muzzle. In the beginning of the year, I wrote sterile emails to the parents about upcoming potlucks and field trips. But over time, the emails got a little snarky. Parents told me they liked the snark. And before I knew it, I was writing my emails freely and explosively, and having a good time. Writing emails in my own authentic voice was exhilarating.

The past few weeks, I feel like I have leveled up again and reclaimed even more of my unique voice. I have started making an activity book called The Distance Learning Activity Book For Parents Just Barely Holding On To Their Last Shred of Sanity. It makes me happy and hell yes, I will be publishing it on Amazon as soon as I’m done.

I also have an idea for a novel about a room mom that I am going to start writing in a few weeks during NaNoWriMo. I love the fantasy series I am working on, but that is slow work and feels a bit serious. Right now, with all the insanity of 2020, I need to write in a way that is light-hearted and joyful. I am so excited to work on my room mom novel.

I’m 41 year old now, and I’m just too damn old to worry about the haters. Haters gonna hate. I am going to keep speaking and writing in the way that feels right for me.