NaNoWriMo is in full swing, and although I’m certainly not writing 2000 words a day, I’m writing in most of the free time I don’t give my thesis. This isn’t aided by the fact that I’m on drixoral for the next few days, and that shit is fucking me up royally. I was afraid of a relapse of the nasty bug that floored WO and me this summer until I read on the Internet that dizziness and drowsiness are normal side effects of drixoral. Ugh. (Nice of the doc to not mention it, I’ll add.) Add to that a continuation of some personal life stressors, and I’m just begging to…

I’m not really a writer of poetry. I tried my hand at it back in 9th grade for some English assignments, and the results continue to embarrass me now. I’ve been tempted to post one or two, in fact, but honestly, I’m not sure I could face the questions from high school friends here who would wonder who in the hell I thought I was so in love with at the age of 14 that I should write horribly cynical poetry about. Regardless, last night, as I was lying in bed, my response to a stressful situation came to me in poetry. I blame this on listening to lquiet last…

I feel like I haven’t written in forever. I mean, I blog occasionally, but not at length. I write for the paper, but nothing really challenging aside from infrequent humor pieces. I haven’t written fiction… sigh since early summer. NaNoWriMo’s coming up, and I’m dry on ideas. That’s straight from a lack of practice. Every idea I come up with is suspiciously like a story or character I’ve read of recently, and I’m not up for 50,000 words of fanfic. Even my diary writing has been sporadic and staccato in style. “I went to yoga. Yay! I binged again. Boo. Oh, well, better luck tomorrow.” I’m realizing lately how important…

The man stands just inside the edge of a forest. Ahead of him is the cool calm of forest growing over, around, and occasionally through a gravel path. He was set to move forward, to progress and see what this forest would offer. What he could offer the forest. Behind him, he heard a sound that made him look back. Honestly, it didn’t take much of a sound. He was nervous about moving ahead, as much as he wanted to leave behind what was behind. The field reaching behind him is well-manicured, with lawnmower tracks weaving their lazy way back and forth. The sun shines down beautifully, but mercilessly. Far…

NaNoWriMo has opened for registration for this season, and I’ve already reopened my account from last year. This year will be harder for me than last year; last year I had the entire week of Thanksgiving to pound out 20k words, but this year I will be forced to more evenly distribute the writing throughout the month, since I don’t want to sequester myself once I get to Phoenix. Problem is, the first three weeks of November are the last three weeks of the academic term, which means projects will be wrapping up, last exams and finals will be failed taken, etc. I didn’t touch my story last year until…