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How much my word count improves when I have an accountability buddy!

Actually, I have two.

One is geographical, we meet every morning in the same location, to do work.

The other, on the other side of the world, keeps track of my word count progress, and I hers.

Now, of course, in an ideal world, I would be able to keep myself in line, be able to complete all I set out to just through will power and intention alone. But not only am I human, I’m a human with a brain that doesn’t generally like to do the executive function things. So while it’s hard to show up for myself, it’s easier and more interesting to show up for others. 

We all need someone to shout at us sometimes.

In fact, I got a text from my accountability partner asking how I was doing. I confessed I was at Barnes and Noble, struggling to come up with blog content. She recommended the use of accountability buddies in writing, pretty much proving the point of how valuable she is.

So, shout out to Alexandra in London, for giving me the inspiration and the idea for this post, and for encouraging me every day. And thank you Susan, for meeting me at six o’clock nearly every morning in coffee shops across the city.

Between the pair of them,  I think I’ve doubled my word count?

All this to say, that the last book in the Relearning Magic series (which I’ve decided to call The Nature of Magic) is nearly done! 

Not only do I have missing scenes needed to fill in a few gaps, it still has to run the battery of edits and rewrites. But the end of this experiment is finally approaching and I can move on to other projects, my darlings like Where Power Lies, and my travel adventure series.

(Fun news, but the location for the first book in the travel series is decided, and I’ll be traveling there in October. More on that as it draws closer, I don’t want to jinx it. But I am very excited to travel again with my family, and I hope that aside from a bunch of wonderful memories, I also get a book out of it.)

It will be my first attempt at a modern Mary Stewart, to be available by the end of the the year.

Now I’ve told you, now all of you have to hold me accountable to that! Pester and demand! Or you could be nice and comment words of encouragement. They are both effective.

It has been a while. Only because nothing of import has happened (in my personal life, though the world has been happening non-stop).  I’ve written words and read books and continue to slog through the summer heat with everyone else. I’ve been nowhere. I nearly boiled myself alive in the cabin a couple weeks ago, and despite that, I still enjoyed it. Going again today, as it will be rainy and overcast and below 100 degrees F (37.7778 de C). 

Along with sweating and reading and writing, I have, of course, been doom scrolling, pulling out my hair, protesting, and spending hours at a time curling inwardly, cravenly cutting myself off from the world until I feel like I can brave it again.

For those of you who don’t know, I live in Oklahoma, the worst state to be a woman. And also, just one of the worst states to live in, generally. Terrible health outcomes, low insured rate, poor access to healthcare, poor representation, poor voting rights. Poor poor poor. Most recently, since the Supreme Court overturning Roe v. Wade, it is illegal for a woman to get an abortion, and it looks as if soon it will also be illegal to travel out of state in order to get a safe and legal one.

Dystopian future novelists have plenty of inspiration these days. I know people who are now calling our home state Gilead.

And yet.

And yet.

When you go out, just like no one wears a mask, as if the pandemic isn’t happening, people go about their days smiling, as if we are not descending into a hellscape. 

What does one do? Move out of state? Not an option for so many. 

“No! Stay and change the system! Vote them out!” 

Yes, yes, but remember those voting rights I mentioned earlier? That includes the ability to legally gerrymander, AND local states can change their voting results to whatever they want it to be instead of what the people actually voted for. They know how they failed in 2020 and they are going to make it so that in 2024…

I rile myself up, even if I’m not reading the news.

And yet.

And yet.

I still stubbornly ride my bicycle (on streets not meant for feet or bikes, but only cars) with books, a baguette, and a bouquet of flowers in my basket. Because I like to pretend that I live in a place where that’s actually a thing, and I’m not a weirdo who looks like they are posing for an instagram post.

I’m growing aggressively greener. I’m that annoying person who gives you a judging look if you don’t bring your own travel mug to a cafe but use and throw away a to-go cup. I use a debit card that plants a tree every time you swipe, I offset my carbon emissions by giving to Wren every month. I’m doing these things that don’t feel like much. I am composting, riding my bicycle when I can, trying to reduce waste as much as possible, attempting to grow my own food, (though this summer has been so scorching I lost my blueberries and strawberries. Only my lemon tree, goji-berry shrub and my neglected dragon fruit cactus survive, but none are fruiting. 

But the world is still on fire.

What are you doing to stay sane? Reading is both an escape and not. Writing is both an escape and not. Because it’s impossible not to compare the world in the book to the world in which you live.

Friends are essential, but you inevitably end up discussing the disasters of the day. 

Most mornings, I meet with my mother for coffee, we chat for a few minutes and then ignore each other and do our own work. It might be the nicest thing.

Seriously. What are you doing to bring yourself joy? I’m looking for (inexpensive/free) ideas to bring more wonder, joy, or beauty into my life.

Any ideas?

I’ve been working on finishing the tiny cabin. I’ve heard the coyotes and the owls, seen deer, mink, armadillo, followed tracks of racoon, bobcat and, worryingly, wild boar. (My greatest real world fear is having a run in with a wild hog. A bear or cougar, you could make yourself big and loud and convince them that you aren’t worth the trouble. But that would only exacerbate the situation with a wild hog. There is, in fact, nothing you can do in case of a hog encounter but try not to die. Best case scenario you scramble up a tree and live the rest of your life up there as an incompetent monkey.)

But beside that, I’ve learned a bit about myself during this project. 

First, that perhaps my calling in life is not writing after all, but being a woodland creature. Failing that, I think I could be a creditable witch of the woods, brewing my little concoctions and getting the news from my crow informants. 

The only downside to this existence would be the lack of library access.

Witches must frequent their local libraries now and again, mustn’t they?

Not that I don’t have a nice little collection of books there already. 

I’ve got bird books and plant books and wildlife books and tracking books so that I can tromp about and identify the species of the faeces and tracks I come across. 

There is something wonderful and cowardly about being out there. Because of Covid, I can’t go anywhere, but at the micro cabin, I can forget about covid and everything else. I don’t have internet so I can’t read the news. It’s just me and the junkos most of the time. (Juncos are like sparrows, but… you know, juncos.) 

I’ll spare you all the nature writing I’ve been doing lately. Turns out I go all Walden while I’m out there (though no pond for me.)  But it’s nice to take a break and write poems about crows and coyotes, juniper trees and ladybugs. 

I think this could very easily turn into a wilderness blog—just nature writing and photos of bits of poo that has me very excited because it’s a new animal for the log. But! I will try my very best not to let this be the only thing I write about, here. 

So! I will say that I enjoyed a book recently. The Maid, by Nita Prose, is a murder mystery about friendship and neurodiversity and I ate up the entire story in one day. No regrets. Let’s see, I did that with another book recently—a retelling of Beauty and the Beast, called Bryony and the Roses. A short and entertaining read. I think I’m on a B&B retelling kick? Because I also read For the Wolf this week. 

Despite having literally hundreds of books on my TBR list, sometimes when the library tells me it’s finally my turn to check out this book I reserved a spot for weeks ago, I’m no longer in the mood to read that book now that it’s mine. I want something else.

What is everyone else reading right now that they would recommend? I want…. Something. I’m not sure what. Need a wide variety of recommendations. Dark and wholesome? Is that a thing?

Sometimes, creative life (the imaginary worlds in your head) gets muffled by the real world. And rightly so. 

Earlier this week everyone in my state was awaiting the governor’s decision: whether or not to commute a death sentence.

Why was this even a matter for debate, you may ask.

It wasn’t, actually. Far from debate, the decision was left in the hands of one man. 

Setting aside for the moment that the death penalty is still somehow legal, the combination of drugs used to perform them is not effective. The company that makes the chemical no longer sells it if the purpose is to kill someone with it. So Oklahoma has been making do with a different mix of chemicals, the result being that the last several executions have been ‘botched’ (which is an absurd euphemism for men spending nearly an hour writhing in agony before they eventually died.) 

What could Gov. Stitt possibly have been considering? What pros could he have weighed against all the cons? I cannot think of a one.

So, as a state, we were wondering if our governor would choose to torture a man to death.

It wasn’t until the 11^th hour, so to speak, when the governor announced that he would follow the boards decision and not execute Julius Jones (a man who did not have a fair trial for a murder that someone else admitted to doing. So, doubtful he should even be in prison in the first place.) 

That is the absolute bare minimum he could have done, ensured that someone wasn’t tortured to death. Julius Jones still faces a life in prison without the possibility of parole. 

There was cheering in the capitol, the streets, the schools, everyone elated that an elected official chose to do the humane thing. The victory at once momentous (a man keeps his life) and yet so small. Nothing has changed. It can happen again.

Currently rereading: The Rhinoceros by Eugène Ionesco. 

I am in an airport, on my way to Spain for a month—a long delayed graduation celebration for my sister. It was meant to be Morocco and Spain, but alas, Morocco was cut at almost the last minute. I am delighted to see that everyone is wearing a mask. 

But that’s not what I am going to write about today. Instead, I’m going to recount a scene I witnessed, that unaccountably touched me.

I was at a cafe working on the next in the Relearning Magic trilogy. There are not a lot of us here when it opens at 6, but there is me and an older man, also wearing a mask and work clothes. He’s perhaps in his  60s (though I don’t really know, I’m terrible at these things.)

Mary—everyone’s favourite employee because she’s just so genuinely kind (and at also somewhere in her 60s maybe? Older? Who knows) had been out sick for some time—she has blood cancer and reacted very poorly to her booster shot. Mary wasn’t there, but this man asked another employee if she would be in. He had heard from another regular that she had come back to work the day before. The employee said she didn’t know (which is appropriate even if you do know. Don’t tell random men when your coworkers shifts are).  

Anyway, he sat there with his cup of water and his coffee that he looked like he had already finished. Just sitting, not even reading, not on his phone. Then, at 7am, Mary comes in with her smile and all that hair piled on top of her head. 

“Mary how are you doing?”

“I’m good—“ she said, in that automatic way that everyone does, but then she switched into a genuine tone and said, “Oh, yeah, I’m feeling better! Getting better every day.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

Mary disappeared into the back. Only then did he throw away his coffee cup and leave. He had been waiting for her. Just to say that little thing. Just to see if she was okay. 

This broke my heart a little and I don’t know why. So small a thing. That he delayed his departure just a bit to see for himself that she was okay. 

Normally I’d hate this kind of behaviour of male customers to female employees, waiting around until she turns up for her shift and the procede to talk her ear off, and then she has to stay an listen because she’s at work and cannot leave. (Anyone who has ever worked at a cafe or bar knows these guys, has been through this.) But he didn’t press. Didn’t say anything inappropriate or too familiar. Just the sort of thing that anyone could say to anyone with whom they had a nodding aquaintence. —How are you? —Doing better. —Glad to hear it.

Inoccuous, and, to Mary, probably normal. Nothing out of the ordinary. A regular asking how they are doing before he leaves.

But since I’d been there since 6, had heard him enquire after her health, obviously worried, and then when the object of his concern appears, he demands nothing of her. Just seeing her, having that short conversation was enough, and he left. Didn’t impose himself on her or her time.

Maybe he does fancy her, or maybe he just cares about her as a fellow human being who in some way, has touched his life. 

It was so small, this little scene that I witnessed. I don’t know why I’m making such a big deal about it. 

I suppose seeing something so wholesome and untainted by ulterior motive pleasantly surprised me. 

Patreon! Instagram! Goodreads! Facebook! Twitter!

Here is a link to my my Creativity Planner. I created it for myself, and am sharing it with the world in the hopes it helps other fellow neurodivergent creatives be more productive.

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And here is a link to my series, Relearning Magic! The third, Nature of Magic, is now available!

Camp NaNoWriMo

I have participated in NaNoWriMo SO many times. I’ve succeeded… once.

I’m enchanted with the idea. I would love to write 50,000 words a month. I get geared up in October and make grand plans for (finally) winning NaNo. 

But I simply do not work well at that pace. I’m not a speed writer. I am a notoriously slow reader, and an even slower writer. I do all the things they tell you not to do: I edit as I go (not for minute typos, obviously, but I stop and erase and seek for just the right word. On a good day, I hit 500 words an hour for creative writing, and 250 words an hour for academic writing (I do my footnotes as I go, it makes the end much less hectic and bibliographies a breeze.)

Sure, I have good days when the words fly. But most days they plod, or I have to drag them along behind me.

August will mark a year since I started the novel I worked on for November’s NaNo. I’d like to finish the first draft by then, and Camp NaNo this July seems the excellent opportunity for that final push. 

Of course I want to finish this novel. I will be the first to admit it is not the Great American Novel. It’s not a great novel of any kind. It’ just a bit of fun for me and my brain, and I would like to finish it.

But I would also like to pass the big exam I have coming up mid-July, and I would also like to finish building a tiny cabin in the woods, a project that, at present, takes about 20 hours a week.

So perhaps July simply isn’t the best time for extravagant goals. But that’s the joy of Camp NaNo. You set your own goals. If I stay consistent, even if it’s writing a couple hundred words every Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday, that’s still progress, and I’d consider that a win.

So perhaps that’s what I shall do. Set a shamefully modest target and celebrate the achievement. Then in August when my time is more my own (and hopefully I’ll have a little cabin to write in) I can step up my ambition.

Of course, I’m going to sign up and record my progress for camp NaNoWriMo, because it is fun to be in the community. 

Anyone else doing it this July? What are your projects/word goals? Look me up on NaNoWriMo.org and lets be friends!   (My username is KathrynAmonett)