Hap­py Nation­al Day on Writ­ing, friends!

Yeah, that’s lit­tle me. Some things haven’t changed much since 1980, parked at a desk in my par­ents’ Wasil­la, Alas­ka, vet­eri­nary clin­ic. I still keep a stash of ani­mal crack­ers near­by as moti­va­tion, and still absent­mind­ed­ly tug my low­er lip when the words aren’t com­ing as quick­ly as I’d like. I still believe writ­ten words are worth spend­ing the after­noon with.

(From a slight­ly com­fi­er chair now, though, and with­out the red pants.)

You, sweet friends, have shown your own belief that words are worth spend­ing time with. Last week includ­ed a big day here: on Octo­ber 11, Hooked crossed 50,000 views. That’s an achieve­ment that I wouldn’t have dared dream of when I launched this blog a year and a half ago, and one whol­ly thanks to you. I’m grate­ful for such gen­er­ous read­ers, com­menters, and promoters.

Off the boat for three weeks now, Cap’n J and I have ful­ly set­tled back into land life. Joel’s tak­en this month to do as much pho­tog­ra­phy as he can, get­ting up into the moun­tains before the win­ter weath­er hits.  (Here’s a shot from his recent trip to Mt. Rain­er.) I’ve jumped back into the Red Wheel­bar­row Writ­ers com­mu­ni­ty, thrilled to have week­ly writ­ing dates and a fan­tas­tic cri­tique group.  Mean­while, Bear’s reclaimed her favorite rota­tion of dai­ly nap­ping spots, and is mak­ing up for all the meals she didn’t eat while at sea.

Nation­al Day on Writ­ing offers a moment to give thanks for the mag­ic and sal­va­tion of words record­ed and read. A day is a good start… but my goal is to prac­tice lit­er­ary zealotry for the com­ing months. While Joel shoul­ders anoth­er win­ter of boat projects, my job will be to write the mem­oir that doesn’t seem to be writ­ing itself, no mat­ter how many attrac­tive out­lines and wall-sprawl­ing charts I make.

I’m a lazy, dis­tractible writer. You’d think that the head-down, teeth-grit­ted endurance that makes me a good fish­er­man would trans­late, but I haven’t fig­ured out how to chan­nel that ocean-based work eth­ic to the page/screen. Hav­ing a team helps keep me hon­est – account­able – so in addi­tion to the local writ­ing meets and cri­tique groups, I’ve signed up for this year’s Nation­al Nov­el Writ­ing Month.

On its 13^th year, NaNoW­riMo chal­lenges folks to pound out 50,000 words in Novem­ber – the equiv­a­lent of a 175 page nov­el. Qual­i­ty work? Eh, not so much; the point is to get the words out, pro­duc­ing a first draft you can then work with. For writ­ers like me, hes­i­tant folks who stut­ter over every key­stroke and hit the back­space more than any vow­el, this is a ter­ri­fy­ing endeavor.

All the more rea­son to take the leap.

(NaNoW­riMo purists, I’m cheat­ing at the most fun­da­men­tal lev­els. Not writ­ing a nov­el. Not start­ing from scratch on Novem­ber 1. Total­ly hijack­ing this oppor­tu­ni­ty to work mad­ly on mem­oir chap­ters, hop­ing to steal strength and per­se­ver­ance from the col­lec­tive ener­gy of tens of thou­sands of writ­ers all rolling the same rock up the same hill at the same time. I know NaNoW­riMo has very few rules, and I’m break­ing sev­er­al of them. Can we be bud­dies anyway?)

So if Hooked seems a bit qui­et over the next six weeks, you’ll know why. After all, as Sher­man Alex­ie chid­ed in his recent  “Top 10 Pieces of Advice for Writ­ers”, “Every word on your blog is a word not in your book.”

Ouch – bull’s eye, sir.

But ours is a con­nect­ed age. Even if I’m not blog­ging as fre­quent­ly, we have lots of oth­er ways to keep in touch.

On Face­book? You can “like” my writer’s page to see peri­od­ic updates on how it’s going.

In Okla­homa? Check out FISH and lis­ten to a record­ing of “The Sis­ter­hood,” an essay explor­ing what it means to be a woman in the oh-so-mas­cu­line world of com­mer­cial fish­ing. (That’s take two you’ll hear. Take one was care­ful­ly record­ed when no one else was home, amidst very pre­med­i­tat­ed qui­et. I’d made it to the con­clud­ing para­graphs, thrilled not to have stum­bled over my tongue over the pre­vi­ous six pages. Then Bear start­ed throw­ing up at my feet. Loud­ly. I tried not to take this personally.)

In Sit­ka for Whale­fest? Come to the mar­itime-themed Grind on Fri­day, Novem­ber 2. The Month­ly Grind is an amaz­ing demon­stra­tion of local tal­ent; I’m excit­ed to hear every­one’s per­for­mances and thank­ful for the invi­ta­tion to read.

Attend­ing Seattle’s Fish Expo? Be sure to check out the Fish­er Poets on the main stage, 11:30 – 1:00, Thurs­day, Novem­ber 29. Get there ear­ly to grab a seat: Abi­gail Calkin, Dano Quinn, Dave Dens­more, Patrick Dixon, Thomas Alan Hilton, and I will each have 15 minute per­for­mances. (Free expo reg­is­tra­tion until Novem­ber 26!)

That’s what the next month holds, friends. If our paths should cross any­where along the line, please do stop and say hel­lo – I’d love to thank you in per­son for shar­ing your time with these words, and con­tribut­ing your own. Until then, my good thoughts to you, and best wish­es for a rich, reward­ing Day on Writing.

Are any of you gear­ing up to be fel­low WriMo’ers? If so, good on you brave souls!  Look me up next time you’re on the site (user­name Tele) and we’ll sup­port each oth­er in this crazy coura­geous lit­er­ary marathon. I hope to see you there.