It is foolish to expect more from those around you than they can reasonably deliver. The key is knowing what is reasonable and what is not. Balance then, between hope and apprehension, is all.
~Helin Tshamis D’kur Uliekin
My nightmares are ferocious. Their ferocity can be gauged by how close the dream world and the waking world are. The closer the twain, the harsher the nightmare. I feel alien afterward…as if a bit of the ‘otherness’ is now part of me and I am a stranger to this world.
It is a distinct probability I will not “win” this year’s NaNo. I’ll not go into the litany of obstacles typical of many a fledgling writer’s blogs. Suffice to say that baring circumstances, I’m rather disappointed in myself because that’s where the ultimate responsibility lies. Though I still have the approaching Thanksgiving Holidays to look forward to, if these past less-than-1000-word-days are any indication, I’ll not expect more from them than I can deliver.
This is not to say there is no hope (curse it). If nothing else, the NaNo helped jumpstart a writing routine that had been long on the verge and nearly derelict. Though I was writing—like now; this blog entry—all my manuscripts had stalled. Even this present NaNo manuscript is progressing in but fits and starts and I’m not very excited about writing it. I am, however, tired of not making it to the Rough-Draft finish line. Once there, I can cast about for inspiration, but I sense that it will take more than a few lucky sessions at the butt-crack-of-dawn and/or good ideas to get the process running smoothly and reliably again, but it’s a (re)start and I count that as a victory.
The bookcases are in and (may my wife’s name be forever exulted) built, so this weekend’s projects include getting the Library in order. And with that, save for the garage—that black pit of despair, every room in the house is livable. There might be a box here or there, tucked away in the corner or temporarily misplaced on a shelf, but essentially we will be moved in. What genius scheduled a move to culminate during NaNoWriMo?
I have not named the house yet. I may decide to keep “Iona Céin” for as my daughter pointed out “…a rental is your house, what you put in it is your home…”. Home is my family and the material and sub-cultural constructs that are the results of that expression. This rental is simply a shell I am presently constrained to encase it in.
I’ll think on it more. Maybe the dream world can serve up some inspiration to season it’s terror.