Everything on Hold

About two weeks ago I broke my hand, so for now I am putting off all juggling, climbing, and guitar playing. It turns out that blocking a roundhouse kick with one's hand is not a good idea. Right now I've got a big ugly splint on my right middle finger and am becoming quite proficient at brushing my teeth with my left. It's just too bad ambidexterity is not one of my life goals.

Back to the Wall

Years ago I used to go rock climbing at a gym with a couple of friends about once every two months. But we never really tried to work on our technique or even follow set routes, we just went as fast as we could to the top. Back then I never had a problem with acrophobia. Things have changed. I have subsequently developed a fear of heights and am now determined to conquer it while learning to climb properly.

Climbing at the gym tonight with a couple of classmates has left my forearms feeling like jell-o. We just did bouldering to work on technique, and I'm glad for that, because a) I need a lot of practice, and b) it meant I didn't have to get too high. Sweaty palms, heart palpitations, and choking panic attacks are to be expected when I do eventually make the attempt to climb with a harness. Perhaps as soon as next week.

The bouldering was very difficult but a lot of fun. My classmates are stellar climbers and were able to give me a lot of tips - getting close to the wall, matching feet, pinching the smaller holds, etc. The plan is to take an intro course and then go to the gym about once a week. Perhaps by next summer I may be ready to do a real outdoor climb.

Wanted: The White Whale and The End of the BIG BOOK

That damn whale is still being elusive. I wish Ahab would just find him already and either kill him or die trying, as he claims to want to do. The Pequod has already found and mutilated a bunch of other whales, so what's one more? I'm so done with this book and I've still got about thirty chapters to go. Trying to read one chapter in bed every night. Last night it was all about the carpenter fashioning a new peg leg for the captain out of another whale bone. Enthralling.

Have heard nothing about Queequeg for a while. Maybe he and Ishmael are no longer enjoying each other's company as they did back in their cozy bed in Nantucket. A falling out over some petty thing or another. Shame really. Queequeg was such a gentle cannibal.

Chicken

This week I went back to college to study journalism and moved out of my parents' place for the second (third?) time. Had to go back this evening to pick up a couple of things and was asked to stay for dinner. When I got there my mom said we were having chicken. I reminded her that I am a vegetarian and have been for two weeks, but I when I saw the look on her face I said, ok, yes, I'd eat the chicken she was serving. She looked perturbed, and I figured, I'm hungry, the chicken is dead, and I had no part of its death or the funding of its death. So I ate it.

Can I still call myself a vegetarian? Does this make me a lapsed vegetarian? Does it make me a flexi-tarian? I didn't WANT to eat the chicken. I wouldn't have eaten the chicken under other circumstances (eg. cooking it myself). And I don't plan on eating it again if I can help it.

But at what point can I really call myself a vegetarian? It's a conundrum.

#1 - Novel Written

I did it. I started writing a novel on Friday night (Saturday morning, technically) and finished it last night. Three crazy days of creative writing have produced 96 pages,

which are currently sitting in an envelope on my desk. I will mail them in to Anvil Press tomorrow as proof of my participation in the 3-Day Novel Contest and eagerly await the certificate in the mail that acknowledges my effort, if not my talent.

Two things I learned:

      1) Writing a novel does not need to take years. In fact, it is probably easier to keep the facts straight if you don’t wait six months between chapters and forget that a character who has a broken leg in chapter 2 is unlikely to be snowboarding the next day in chapter 5.

      2) If you try to write a novel in three days you really shouldn’t expect to be in the same state of mind at the end as at the start. With very little sleep and Oreo cookies as the main staple of your diet you are going to find that the ending is trite, overly-sentimental, and maybe even incoherent because you were racing the clock and semi-conscious when you finally pounded it out.

Anyway, I’m glad I did it, and now I suppose I can cross another item off my list. Though I’m far from feeling that I no longer need to think about creative writing anymore. This experience was just an appetizer really. A first attempt. The practice round. Now I want to try to write a novel that is worthy of submitting for publication. Something that I can see one day on a shelf in Chapters. For the next one I think I’m going to need more than three days.

Previous posts related to Writing a Novel:

(Aug. 23, 2008)
Seizing the Day

(Aug. 8, 2008)
To be a writer