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

encourage

Let the willows 

weep

our past

collective

buried in back 

yards

 

Leave the path

of light

unobstructed

 

Worry

we could

would

did

 

Lunar 

solar

eclipse

 

Let us dig

our toes

in earth

See

sky-like 

potential 

 

What compelling

differential!

 

Milk

with

upsidedown

cake

Image

Process #2

Writing Process. Process is not content. Process is the experience between the lines. For instance. K went to the store. K got a stick of butter, a loaf of bread, a quart of milk. That’s content. K was worried, on the way to the store, that she would forget what she wanted to buy. Her memory kept slipping. She focused on the gardens in the yards around her, to keep calm. The warmth of the sun on her face. K was feeling good about herself for remembering all 3 items in the store. K’s happiness and self-confidence radiated such that other shoppers started saying hello and talking to her. This made K happy. This is process.

I experienced psyching myself out today, on day three of national novel writing month. I read some Moby Dick last night for inspiration. Melville had an excellent vocabulary. I met some of his words like old friends whose names I had forgotten. This was all very sweet, to be reacquainted like such. Helped me fall asleep and the nightmares weren’t so bad. Okay, I lied. I still had bad nightmares. I do almost every night. Anyway, I was coming off day 2 with a disappointing 400 wordcount, but I was still very happy with the condition of the piece. Quality over quantity. Better to not get too obsessed over word counts, and definitely avoid the urge to cheat and falsify counts in order to ‘win’. That would make me a sure loser in the end, right? But my mind always thinks funny things, like its best to exaggerate the numbers, Katya! Go ahead and do it! It will make you feel better and feel part of the other nanowrimo writers achieving. You dont wanna look stupid like you have fallen behind already on day 2, do ya? Well, do ya?? Shut up, brain!

kself5nov13

So I wrote about 2000 words today. But only after psyching myself out completely in the morning. I had been obsessing over my low wordcount and my mind was playing tricks. I was out all morning. Checked the bookstore where they are keeping my paperback on the shelf in the front by the door, where the local artists should be. It was there. I appreciate the owner of th store doing that, and I cannot believe nobody has picked up that masterpiece of mine after one whole week! Haha.

Anyway, by the time I got sitting down to write, it was already 11am. It was Sunday, so my mind was again being a real bitch and telling me But Katya, its Sunday, let us relax for a while in front of this lightbox, the boob tube! Come on, Katya, day of rest, remember? You were once a good little Protestant girl, you got confirmed, you had a brief acquaintance with Jesus and all his disciples before you spun out on Buddhism. Come on Katya, on the Sabbath its time to rest. I don’t want to be exerted, I am your mind! Now be a dear, and lie down on the couch with me. We will write later. Maybe you will decide to find better use of your time than that silly nanowrimo thing anyway? We could go crunch numbers or something. Think about it! 

Wow. Shut up already, you mental mind. You beast, you. Stop pushing me around, or I will have to lobotomize you. Tin Pan Alley. Whatever. Okay, so I shut it off and got down to business for about a half hour before I folded. Only about 300 words and they were painful.  I felt really really tired all of a sudden. Truth was, my mind had psyched me out. I could not get into the novel, characters, nothing. I got suddenly very depressed and overdosed on coffee. Which just made me more tired. I yelled at my cats, felt bad about myself, and my cats put me in timeout. We all took a nice long nap together. Woke up very refreshed. Cats were curled up on either side of my legs. Very loyal little guys. They made me feel like a winner. Okay, now I am a winner. WINNING. I hit 2000 words today, when i started over after the nap. I also took a walk around the neighborhood after sunset, which helped clear my head alot. which brings my total to 4200 in 3 days.  i am really happy i decided to join this nanowrimo thing. A very good choice!