Posting Everyday

So I've decided to participate in NaBloPoMo - National Blog Post Month - and post everyday for a month.

Motivation: because of the Ravaging Guilt I feel over my failed attempt at NaNoWriMo - writing a novel in a month. This, however, I think I can do.

But the nature of my blog is going to change. So far, this has been an experiment in hiding behind a pseudonym so I can say dumb and wicked things. As I write this, I can't for the life of me figure out why. I guess it's that old writer-trick of having an Audience in mind that helps draw out a different voice, different content... some people use blogs to barf up their inner children. I was using it to play a part.

But I started a couple other blogs "for serious" that I never have written - one for my Soul Diet project, the other for my thoughts on Motherhood. And in my writing project world, I have the lurking project of a Memoir, which has gone through various iterations...

What I realized just now - I was pseudo-napping - I find I always think up exactly what I want to write and the most brilliant and witty lines right when I'm about to fall asleep, so I'm constantly faced with the choice of kicking myself out of bed out of loyalty to my "art" or delving into blissful (and these days, rare) sleep - I hate this choice -

Anyway, I realized that I've been trying to compartmentalize by separating my writing projects into these distinct texts, and that it's just not going to work that way. I don't have a complete thought for each of these, because they are the threads that weave together my life - to undo them, tease them apart from each other, detangle the strands, doesn't quite comb them straight but disconnect their roots, leaving them lifeless.

Which is funny, because I feel like older women are always telling me that men are the ones who compartmentalize, and women muddle every emotion and thought together. But I tend to try to categorize and box and label and file all the time, and I'm a girl, so I don't know what that means, except that it's not working, and I need to let it all be a muddle mess if I'm going to get anywhere.

So for the month of November, I'm going to write about my past, about my father, about the cult into which I was born, about my philosophy, about being a mother, about all of it, past and present, and it may be a total chaotic wreck, but it might be more accurate in telling these stories I need to tell than the other way.

I don't know. I could be wrong. I will attempt to find out. I may spend the whole month writing about how hard it is to write about these things. There could be knashing of teeth (and bridges) (ha ha). There could be more bad puns like that one...

But that's the drill of this effort, the drive of this endeavor... it may not work in the form of this blog... I can feel the doubt shuffling off to Buffalo...