I went for another long run this morning. Just like last week’s long run, I looked off into the distance and couldn’t believe that I would make it. I did. I ran my eight and a half miles. On the way though I spent a lot of time thinking about writing. Last night I had a few friends over to talk about NaNoWriMo, and as I ran I couldn’t help but wonder what running could teach me about writing.
While I was out on a run Monday, I had three things going through my head. I was disappointed that I didn’t have a blog post scheduled for Monday, but I’d spent my evening playing Civ V and I really didn’t have much to kvetch about. I was steeping in my usual disdain for cyclists who wear black from head to toe in low-visibility conditions. The biggest thing on my mind was the run though, and that really came into focus as I turned a corner and saw a bridge in the distance. I thought for a second that there was no way that I could run that far, but then I realized that I’d actually be running past that bridge and over the one after that before beginning to turn home.
I’ve been adjusting. I left my day job just about a month ago and so I’ve had a lot of decompression and processing to do while I adjust to being the hausmann. Mrs. Portmandia has been doing her share of adjustment too, now that she has to bring home the artisinal bacon (and it better be artisinal, I’m not eating any of that major brand dreck). Now that I don’t have a job, it might actually be time to start getting some things done.
Yesterday I gave notice at my day job. I’ve been flipping books there for seven years and I have a lot of great memories and I now know far more about the book industry than I really wanted to. The real question is what do I do with myself now?
Over the past few months, I’ve started a couple of draft posts that haven’t gone anywhere useful. The first one was just some stupid monologue about running that was so full of narcissistic bullshit that I almost puked when I read it back to myself. I’m honestly not sure what filters were missing that day to even allow such idiocy, but I’ve safely banished it to the dustbin. The other post was little more than a title, but it too is now lost to the void.
November was a busy month of keyboard tapping for me. I wrote a novel as part of National Novel Writing Month. It sounds untrue as I say it, but actually did it. I wrote a 50,000 word manuscript. I managed to write more than I have ever written before, and an easy order of magnitude more than I have written in the last 20 years. Continue reading