Process #5 (in filament)

Broke the 25,000 word barrier. There was a boom and the earth shook. Then a crackle, a sound like tin foil in the wind. Then halfway made a point. The point stood sentinel, then dropped vertically down into the earth. Was never heard from again. Another word came to mind. And carved deep into the screen. Etched like ink set in vaseline remarkable with a backlight. White. The cats purr-boxes radiated peace throughout the room. The space heaters stood by. The vehicular turkey, in my sink defrosting. Then Iphinome sent me a wave. I wanted to duck but I had to tunnel. Otherwise the ink would stain the cuffs, and the jellyfish would be spread thin against the blanket charge. The chips would fall. The abstract, holding hands with concrete,  as you walk on down the hall the hall the hall the hall. This is the end. Of act #1. There will be a long intermission, followed by act #2. The second half. Now blend the field magnetic, all writers everywhere dosing us with words. Catch the ones you want. The ones standing out. Do you see the colors? The midnight blue? The golden hue? I am pulled up into it. In filament.

Process #4

I have abandoned all social media for now. Reached 17,328 words, for my national novel draft. Found myself in a wordcount worrisome, and pulled myself up and out by virtue of deliberated apathy. Not caring was the only way out. Frame of mind began to improve. Then life got in the way, yesterday, and by noon I was pulling my hair. Cursing Zeus and Apollo and maybe Poisedon. I cannot remember. Zeus laughed at my vexedness, and sent a lightning bolt through my problems. Apollo looked at me sideways, and said really? Poisedon stuck a fork in me, cause I was done. No more feeling sorry for K.  To take care of K, was to take the day off of writing altogether. And so I did. Then allowed myself a good night sleep. The moon is wax. Today I sat down to write, all prepared, and felt a sudden pain of the burden of so many words again. I became patient and still. Then I remembered this: why do I write? I write because I am excited about putting words together and sharing them. This is my intoxication. Challenging myself to put a world on paper. Then I wrote 2,000 words, enjoying each word like skipping rocks. I skipped 2,000 rocks today off an Alaskan beach, into the dark and life-giving depths of Prince William Sound. Just outside Anchorage. I feel anchored in this work, this draft, this life, this November. Sometimes you just gotta sit still through the pain, see what it is telling you, let it inform you, and then go on with courage, locate your heart, and do what needs be done. Image

Process #3

Sometimes reality begins to blur and my life feels flux, fluid, dreamlike. I have no influence toward this curious state of spirit. It is not always welcome. I have to surrender to it like one surrenders energetically to a full moon or sun at high noon. Then I may get into the feeling. Once I accept.  Sounds crazy, I know. The good news is this modality draws great creativity. Or potential. Because the imprint of my tale at 13701 words extant, can be aligned to my self in a homogeneous fashion…so I sink myself flux into the material fresh and alive. The tale can contain me for a change, and writing feels certain like some ironed fitted sheets. So goes my notes on process, how I feel this adventure of ‘nanowrimo’ curious and worthwhile. I will light candles through the night in this November sacred space. With great fortune of community on and offline. Carrying out the design of the divine. Word by word, line by line.

Katya Mills, © 2013