Day 13: The Leaves Might Be Dead, But I'm not Quite Yet

Depressing time of year, November. Here in Indiana, the leaves are mostly off the trees now, and any that aren't are being stripped off by the seemingly incessant cold rains. The sky is that lovely oppressive iron grey color, and once again, predictably, I've fallen into a funk, wishing with the king in Dr. Seuss's Bartholomew and the Oobleck that I could invent a new kind of precipitation.

Or at least have some snow, since it's prettier than rain. Or perhaps hibernate, like the bears.

Of course, there are several other factors adding to this mood. There are several people I'm waiting to hear back from regarding whether I can get a hold of items for my end-of-semester research papers this term, as well as for possibilities for exactly what I'll be doing next semester. And then there are questions with who I'll get to see and when during the Christmas break.

So basically, if I were given the task of marketing The Month of November, I might not be able to come up today with a better slogan than:

NOVEMBER. NOT MUCH FUN.

Then again, unlike the leaves, and despite this miserable waiting (how come Advent, the liturgical season of waiting, always seems to come early to me, I ask?) on several fronts, I'm not dead yet. The glass is half-full as well--granted, at the moment it's half-filled with rain, perhaps, but it's definitely not all bad.

• I'm halfway through my writing experiment, and I'm on track.
• I'm quite a bit more than halfway through my semester, and the next couple of weeks are lighter ones for school assignments, which means I can get ahead on my school assignments and still have space to work on some creative projects too.
• I live a pretty privileged life, really--food, clothes, shelter, grad student life that's intellectually stimulating, etc.

Okay, self-pep talk over. The glass still feels a bit half-empty, but at least I have the oomph to go to school and work on some transcripts before attending my last class for the week. Ooh, there's another one: it's Friday, and I made it this far.

Lost: One Mojo

I've been looking for it everywhere. I'm really hoping it didn't get left on the train or in a hotel room in California. Anyone seen it (my mojo, that is)? I definitely need it for the weekend--I have about fifteen pages of term and conference papers to cohere, one twenty-page paper to revise, and one creative non-fiction essay-like article to write between Friday night and the wee hours after the end of Saturday Night Live (which I better not be watching this week).

We'll call it, not the three-day novel or NaNoWriMo, but the day-and-a-half pile o' non-fiction, academic and otherwise, I've got to write. (Titles are everything, no?) Anyway, once this is done, I'm hoping to plow into some novel manuscript re-writes during the rest of November. But I have have have to get this done first.

So it's important that I find this mojo by tomorrow noon. Please let me know if you happen upon it somewhere (and feel free to heckle me throughout the next couple of days if I'm not getting the writing done)...

Oh, and for someone who's been reading archival theory (i.e., reflections on the preservation and loss of our pasts) all semester, this book reviewed by Gregory Wolfe over at Good Letters intrigues me. Alright, to school, to school...

Swallowed Up...

I'm finally feeling better from my sinus infection, but have been knocked over the head and ignominiously dragged off into a cave by the assignments that were lurking outside my door while I was sleeping off the infection. They tell me, if I'm good, I can get out for Thanksgiving dinner and a few hours in October, but other than that, there's no chance of being let out for three more months. I feel like Jonah.

It's sort of warm in here, in the belly of grad school. Sort of womb-like, and comforting in a way (though there are emotions in here, they're not so frequent as in the world of creative writing). And it's not so bad, seeing around me by dim light. I know those shadows back there, in the corners, are tunnels leading to the concrete parts of the world I've left behind, along with those other worlds whose characters are waiting for me to bring them into a more concrete-ish existence in words.

I know there are people out there in the world, on vacations, getting errands instead of research for papers done on Saturdays, allowing themselves those odd distant things called "hobbies." Or at least allowing themselves to get that tire finally replaced on the car. Maybe I can stage a revolution in a week or so and bust out into the open air for some time--maybe even a Saturday--of non-grad school-related activities, maybe even some novel editing (while sitting at Goodyear, of course), once this presentation is done. It would be a daring expedition, involving much planning and diligence for me to not feel ridden with guilt.

See, the problem is that if I'm not careful, I'll be forming bonds with my captors (something to which my pattern of empathizing with my characters leaves me vulnerable). It's likely to happen any minute now...

Poor Timing, Once Again: A Lament

Rilla and one of her friends are doing the annual Labor Day weekend 3-day novel(la)-writing contest this weekend and have some interesting commentary on the process over at TextFIGHT.

Here's my two cents' worth of complaining/lamenting on these weekend-long and month-long creative writing contests (yes, that's you, too, NaNoWriMo):

Can't anyone arrange one for those of us involved in the educational-type systems? Yes, that's right: Why Labor Day weekend, right after my first week of doctoral classes? Or why November, right when all my final papers are coming due and, when I'm teaching, the students are handing things in? Why not something in May or June or July, when I could actually shift a few things around to commit some time to these important creative things?

I'd love to do one of these things sometime--well, at least NaNoWriMo, since I thoroughly believe those who created the 3 day contest were somewhat possessed--and I would love the support of others engaged in the same pursuit on the same timeline.

Alas, (poor Yorick,) my chances of doing NaNoWriMo, at least within the next few years, are slim to none. (Speaking of which, the most I can commit to this blog at the busiest times of the semester is a posting or two per week--I'll try to do at least that, even during the busiest times.)

It makes me sad.

NOTE: Please excuse the two sequential days of lamenting--the downturn toward fall and winter often brings on such moods. On the up side, I'm back from my trip, which had the desired results--I think my editing skill is back and ready, just in time for the semester. Plus, after a truly delightful time away, I might even be sane again, which is always a strong plus for the beginning of paper-production season.