NaNoWriMo '14

To NaNo or not to NaNo? That is the question.

It’s that time of the year again when NaNoWriMo starts up. This year, for the first time, I’m uncertain whether I want to participate.

The main reason is that I already did a large writing project a couple of months ago. I started it on August first and I wrote every day that month (there was only one day that I skipped). By the end of the month, I was quite proud of myself to reach around the 46,000 mark (so that made it my best ‘NaNo’ word count yet).

But because the story wasn’t quite done, I kept going into September. After a total of 48 days of writing from start to finish, I completed the project at around 74,500 words.

So basically, I did a belated Camp NaNo. Or an early official NaNo.

But now November is arriving and I don’t have any idea what I could write about.

I mean, I have more time to write than in the past years because I don’t have classes or homework interfering.

Part of me is playing around with the idea of simply writing short stories throughout the month instead of just one big project (which is what I did in 2012). It’s less of a commitment since I dedicated a lot of time on my other project.

And then there’s another part of me that says maybe I should settle for a much smaller word count goal for November so I don’t feel too pressured to try and beat my amount from last year. Like maybe try to just hit 15,000 words for the month or something so I don’t feel too bad if I don’t write something every day.

But if I’m being totally honest with myself, I become competitive when it comes to my writing (I’m not usually a competitive person). Even if I say that I’m going to have a low-key NaNo, I’m not going to do it.

I’m going to want to surpass whatever word count goal I have established and try to beat last year’s (so it’d have to be over 36,000). And I’m going to force myself to write daily because of that stupid chart that tracks how much I write. I love seeing those bars of the graph grow.

But if I succumb to that temptation, that’s going to be a lot of short stories. And I don’t know what I can possibly write that will carry that large of a story arc.

Sigh.

Decisions, decisions.

…What if I freestyle and focus on just one story? I mean, I used to make up short stories on the spot for NaNo ’12. What if I did it on a larger scale, no matter if it makes sense or if it has plot holes? It could just be a story for my own eyes.

Even though I’m more of an outline person. I like to have an idea of where my story is going. Otherwise, once I hit a roadblock, I don’t know how to overcome it.

It’d be quite the challenge for me, though.

Hm. I guess I have a few options before me to choose from.

Teacher Appreciation

While it’s quite early (or late, depending on how you look at it) for teacher appreciation week, I just wanted to write a post thanking a particular teacher that I had back in high school. Because I think we sometimes forget how influential teachers are in a student’s life.

My favorite teacher was my English teacher in tenth grade. Her name was Mrs. Schubert. She was short and small in stature, pixie-cut brown hair, and magenta glasses.

She was one of those rare teachers where she cared about her students, but still genuinely taught them. She handed out blankets that she kept in her metal cabinet for students because the room was always sub-zero in temperature (she even kept a heater under her desk). If she realized that no one was paying attention to her, she would make her way to the back of the class and dance. If you weren’t watching her, then too bad, you didn’t get to see her hilarious dance moves.

During the first semester of that year, my lunch fell during her period. After sitting by myself at lunch, I would race back to her room to get away from the cafeteria. Usually because of this, I would be the first to arrive back to class and she would always talk to me, asking me how I was doing. Every Friday, she would ask what I have planned for the weekend. This became our tradition.

She was also the first to believe in my writing abilities. From time to time, she would assign journal entries for us. For extra credit, I would write stories. She was impressed with them and was thinking about entering a couple of them in contests. She was also worried that I worked too hard and was not getting enough sleep.

As the year was drawing to a close, she pushed me to consider taking AP English next year. I had never taken an AP class before, and I was afraid that the course load would be too much for me. But I registered anyway, mainly because she also taught one AP English class and I was hoping to get her for another year.

Much to my disappointment, when I got my class schedule for eleventh grade, I did not get Mrs. Schubert. So I went to visit her after school on the first day and she told me that I was welcome to visit her before school starts. (Turns out, everything worked out in regards to me not having her as a teacher because I befriended a girl in my AP class and I still talk to her to this day.)

So I did visit her in the mornings. I would arrive about 5-10 minutes before the first bell would ring. There were a few other students that would come and go, as well. Sometimes she even put me to work, decorating her room for the holidays.

When the next semester rolled around and it was time to switch teachers, I was surprised that I actually got Mrs. Schubert for English. But this time, I wasn’t pleased. I started to view her more as a friend and I was unsure whether I could handle her as my teacher again. So I cut the days I spent visiting her in the mornings, usually only going twice a week (I wasn’t going to give up my Fridays for anything. I wanted her to ask me what I was going to do this weekend.) I figured that I see her every day for class, anyway.

It didn’t take me long for me to regret not seeing her more often.

By early April, during our Spring Break, she was diagnosed with Pancreatic Cancer. She left to get chemo, so we had a sub for the rest of the school year.

She never returned.

Today marks exactly five years since she died.

After all this time, I still think about her and wonder how things could have been different if she were still around. Would I stop by my high school, pull up the metal stool to her desk, and tell her how college life is treating me? What kind of advice would she dole out?

I don’t think I ever thanked for all that she did for me. But just in case she wasn’t fully aware:

Thanks for being there. Thanks for talking to me when I had no one. Thanks for challenging me academically. Thanks for encouraging me as a writer. Thanks for building my confidence.

Thank you.