Dear October (2015)
Every year, I write letters to the month of October. I’m not always consistent with it, and it’s not always on my blog… but I think about it a lot throughout the year. In 2015, I was blogging on a different site, and despite migrating that site to my own domain, I lost everything on that site through what is known as The Great Database Deletion (it’s really not) where I managed to delete the database for three websites in about twenty seconds, and then listened to tech support give me false information on how to get my site back. Anyway. This is a compilation of my letters to October from 2015 (find letters from 2016 here).
You snuck up on me, October. I knew you were coming, and I’ve been planning to write you letters, but I didn’t expect you’d be here so soon. It feels like just yesterday that your friend May was here, and I was welcoming her with open arms. June, July, and August didn’t seem to stay as long as I would have liked, but I suppose that’s life. September kept me busy, and while I looked forward to your arrival, October, I still wasn’t quite ready for you.
You’re bringing cooler weather to much of the country, but this far South is still warm. It feels wrong to welcome you while I’m still surrounded by the memories of your friends. I haven’t put my shorts away, because it’s still in the 90s outside. I spent today in a tank top. I did order a new beanie, so that’s a step in your direction. I know that once you start moving in, you’ll move in quickly. I’m patient, though, so no rush.
I’m excited to spend our time together doing things. You’re going to keep me occupied as well, my dear October. I’ve got a vacation planned, a ton of homework, and a visit from my grandfather. I’ve got two more weeks of my photography course. I hope you treat me well, October. I’ll write to you tomorrow.
For those of you that aren’t aware, Emily Diana Ruth does Letters to July. They’re whimsy and wonderful, and I thought I’d write letters to October. (Carrie Hope Fletcher did Letters to Autumn last year, and they were wonderful as well.) They’re not going to be long, and might be mixed in with other posts. I plan to post one every day, but that may not actually happen. We’ll see how it goes.
I’m heating up soup as I type this. While today wasn’t exactly cold, it was indeed less hot. It was nice. I still wore shorts, but I know jeans will be coming soon. I need to buy new jeans, now that I think about it. That will have to wait for another day.
It’s late now. The day was eventful enough. I didn’t do any of the million things I needed to, but I did go to the craft store after getting excited over a new idea. I will now sit and cut circles out of felt by hand, because that’s the prep work involved. I’m so excited for the project to be complete. I can’t wait to see how it turns out.
A cricket found its way into my car. It scared me and I refused to drive. I called my dad – I’m 22 years old, and I actually called my dad because there was a cricket in my car and I was too scared to drive it – and he came home. He got it out, and it was still hopping around when we let it go, but I’m not sure it survived the ordeal.
I took a chance today, October, and I’m almost regretting it. I think I said goodbye to someone without being absolutely sure I wanted to. It’s agonizing waiting for a message that may never come. It’s worse when it’s online, because unlike the mail, which runs once a day, this message could come at any time, if it was going to come. I don’t have high hopes that it will.
I’m tired, October, and my soup is done. I’ll write to you tomorrow.
I didn’t leave my house today. I should have done homework, but I didn’t. I should have done a lot of things. I planned out what I wanted my NerdCon weekend to look like, instead.
October, it’s been an up and down day today. I know the outcome of the chance I took yesterday and it was almost bad. I’m not sure what the end will be yet, but I guess that’s life. If I keep my head up, hopefully I’ll get out unscathed.
I’ll keep it short today, October. I’ve got more felt circles to cut out.
I got rid of eight pairs of shoes today. While this is hardly a dent in my shoe collection, it’s a start. I planned to eliminate clothes from my closet as well, but I only removed one shirt. It’s so difficult to let go of things – even things I don’t wear – because either I still want to wear it, or I have too many memories associated with it. It’s hard because everything still fits me. I have shirts from 9 years ago (specifically, some might be from farther back) that still fit perfectly. The t-shirts are hard to get rid of because they don’t go out of style.
I’m trying, October, I’m really trying. Moving on just isn’t something I’m great at. It never has been.
It’s amazing what can become “normal” in just a few years. The past three years has made going to RealmsCon normal. I didn’t go this year. It’s an odd feeling, purposely not doing something that once was a given. I’m not sure how I feel about that, to be frank. There was a time when I was sure I’d come back just for the convention if I moved away.
Facebook reminded me that two years ago today – well, technically yesterday, since I posted the status talking about it at half past twelve in the morning – was day 1 of the convention. I was hipster Rapunzel. I was a volunteer. I made friends, and met friends for the first time. Meagan and I took those new friends to the beach, which had an exceptionally high tide and we FREAKED out.
It was the best of times, October. I miss it so much.
I don’t talk to the friends I met that day much. I don’t speak to one of the friends I made that day at all, and the other, only slightly. A friend I had on that day that made a huge impact, is now an enemy. Everything’s different, and all I can think about was how much fun that weekend was.
It’ll be one for the history books – my own personal history – and it’ll probably come up when I tell stories to my kids. It was a weekend of doing all the crazy things and having no regrets. It was a weekend that could possibly be considered a turning point in my college career, if not my life. Things that led from that weekend lingered and molded the next few weeks… and then the next year, and still to this day.
All of that said, the only thing I would change about that day would have been to take more pictures. I never thought the memories would become things of the past – at the time, I thought that’s how it would be going forward. I thought how great it would be having such awesome con friends. I thought I’d finally done the thing I’d hoped to do for so long.
I was wrong, October. It’s been two years now, and nothing’s the same, and I can’t stop thinking about it.
To the boy that used to read every post: I’m sorry. I know you don’t read these anymore – my analytics tell me that – but if you ever go looking for me and find this, know that I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be the girl you needed and I’m sorry that I wanted to be so badly. You’ve been so true to your word in leaving me alone, so I won’t mess you up by contacting you. That’s not what you need. I know you don’t live here anymore, and I hope you’re doing well. Maybe we met at the wrong time. If there’s a right time in the future, I wouldn’t mind. I still can’t be the girl that you need, but I can always be your friend.
Will there ever be a time when I’m not in a memory-filled funk? It seems like I can’t focus on moving forward because I’m too busy looking back. It’s hard not to, because those memories are GOOD. There are fun times and remind me of the days I took for granted, where the future was more certain and I knew where I’d be in a year.
Today is my cousin’s birthday. Little nugget turned 22. I like her.
Today is the day before I leave for NerdCon. I’m struggling with the fear of missing out… This has always been a problem for me. I’ll let you know what I decide tomorrow.
It feels redundant to tell you that I haven’t written to you in a while, but I’m going to say it anyway. The past four days have been so busy, October. Not too busy to write to you, per se, but busy nevertheless. The days were spent living in the moment. For the first time in weeks, I wasn’t looking back at the way things used to be.
Of all the days that should have been in movie format, the four days I skipped should have been them. I’ll remember next year, October.
Before I say anything else, I’d like to take a second and just really hope that there IS a next year. The convention will happen, I’m almost certain of it, but I’ll be in an unknown chapter of my life. No – I’ll be in an entirely new book. The 19 years that I’ve spent in education, from Montessori school to grad school, will come to an end in May. I can’t even imagine what those days will hold, but I have to hope that they’ll be able to accommodate a convention. This is definitely something I don’t want to miss.
It was the first convention I’ve ever gone to totally by myself. I’ve gone to others alone, but I always knew someone when I got there. I was rarely alone, and I rarely didn’t have something to do.
I woke up early Thursday morning, got on an airplane, got on another airplane, and ended up in a state I’ve never been to before. Dallas by sunrise, and Minnesota before ten. Minneapolis was beautiful – just cool enough where I was glad I had a long sleeved sweater on. The Hilton was amazing and let me check in at like 10:30 or some crazy early time. I’m always on a high floor. That used to be a problem, back when I didn’t even get in elevators, but now it’s alright. It gives me a great view.
I wandered around the city for a while, running on three hours of sleep. I went to The Local, because the FMGF app told me I could eat there. I went to Target (twice), because I needed face wash and hair scrunch stuff, and then I needed party hats and water. I walked around downtown, alone but never by myself. I crossed at the crosswalks when the little green man said it was safe and sometimes when he didn’t. I went back to my room and tried to take a nap, but I was far too excited. The air changed, and it got colder. I got my jacket and a cup of coffee. I kept wandering. I put my jacket away and went to the convention center, even though nothing was happening. I talked to a security guard about life for a while, and then I talked to a guy called Tom for at least that long. It was sweet of them to put up with me for so long. I’m an extrovert, and from Texas. I talk to people.
Friday morning came early, and I actually ate breakfast, which is not something I do often when traveling. Morning mainstage started at 9, and I was early. Another abnormality. I talked to strangers. I learned new jokes. I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
And then the convention began. It was wonderful. There was an energy that I’m sure is present at all conventions, but this one felt better. Maybe because I was there in the middle of the semester, but maybe it was just special. It was a convention, certainly, and not a conference, but it was a convention that celebrated a thing, not a person (or people). We were all connected by our love of stories. There were still the question of “who are you here for?”, but it was less certain. It was the normal thing to ask, but the answer often turned out to be, “I’m here for the stories”.
The panels were funny. We were all on twitter, live-tweeting and live-favoriting. The panelists knew it, too, and gave us fuel for the fire. Anything that happened was sure to be remembered, because we were all writing it down, one way or another. We made whale noises and watched a group of bestselling authors pretend to be the crew of a starship (Artemis) – and when one was asked for a shield report, he said “owwie”. Maureen Johnson lamented the fact that books are not made out of human skins. They talked about adaptations, and John Green said that he only sees the world through text (to which Auntie MJ countered “says the man who makes videos for a living…”). Interesting camera angles by request prompted the first shout out to the AV people during the Nerdfighter Q&A panel (the first of MANY times), which was hands down one of my favorites of the weekend. I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time. The ASL interpreter had to sign that people were clapping in the audience without ACTUALLY clapping, as to not anger MJ. As John said, “he’s the real hero of this convention”.
We learned that Hank doesn’t back up his novel, which resulted in annoyed frustration from both John and MJ (and many of us in the crowd), who had instant answers to “well how do YOU back it up?!” (Note that John emails himself the document every week and MJ has automatic backup to an external hard drive. Hank said he didn’t have one. She told him to buy one.)
MJ then got the “no tears at TFIOS” dollar from John, plus $5 of interest (which was actually Hank’s…), but she said that later, he got it back.
They talked about the tides coming in, which wasn’t actually the question, but it prompted a discussion over the fact that we were in the middle of the country, so NO THE TIDES SHOULD NOT BE COMING IN. There was also a discussion about which ocean would reach us first in the event that they did come in. At some point, Hank yelled, “IS THE ATLANTIC HERE?” when talking about not panicking.
I didn’t go to the race between JG and Maggie. I don’t do well in 40 degree weather. Instead, I went to the Live Superfight, which, turns out to be Superfight (a card game), played live. It was a very good choice. We formed a cult (the Guacanati, complete with a hand symbol that we raised frequently throughout Saturday, often having to fill people in on what it meant), we witnessed fan art happen in an absurdly short time, we decidedly didn’t vote for the wet kittens in iron pants, and we heard the context behind the very correctly put “if I could just tornado Mister Rogers away from me, then he couldn’t kiss me” line from Sarah Mackey.
We then watched The Extraordinary Adventures of Baron Munchausen, which was wildly hilarious and partly inappropriate. I greatly underestimated the use of a fan when telling a highly suggestive story. They used a throwback from the morning MainStage (there’s a country’s museum that’s buying back artifacts that were stolen hundreds of years ago, no questions asked, because they’d rather have the artifacts than punish the people that bought stolen goods or whatever. Anyway, one person brought back a thing that the museum didn’t own before and because of the NQA policy, they don’t know WHERE THE HECK IT CAME FROM, but it’s extra lines from the Epic of Gilgamesh that we just didn’t have before, which is cool. The museum paid $800 for it).
MJ told a story about a horse killing a man with a kite, thought that wasn’t at all where the story was going when she started it. We learned in a later story that central heating is just fire pants for rooms. Hank Green measures diamonds in baby’s kneecaps.
Saturday morning, Jeffrey Cranor read a beautiful and sad poem that I wish I had recorded. Dessa read a haiku, and then goes, “the problem with haikus is the only response is…” *counts syllables on fingers*.
Téa Obreht commented that being a writer is basically choosing to sit in a room alone and make imaginary friends. Rainbow Rowell said that she’ll start emails, “bluntly: let’s talk about the logistics”, and I really want that on a t-shirt. John Green told us that he’s reconsidered his winning conditions of life, and found that he’d dramatically underestimated happiness. Dessa told us that a good life tip was distinguishing the urgent from the important. Patrick Rothfuss told us that he’ll give advice to people with babies, and when they ask what he does, he says he writes books. “About babies?”, they ask. He doesn’t.
I will take a second and say that I was unimpressed with the way the signings were handled. I’ve thought a lot about it and I understand why it happened, but I don’t think it should have. I wasn’t concerned at all about there being a cut off or anything – people can only sign so many autographs, come on now – but for I think maybe the second time in my life, I was moved by a crowd and had no control of where I was going. I was mildly worried that someone would trip. It was not good. Once the lines were formed, the crowd dissipated without an issue… it was the forming of the lines that was a problem.
There was a NightVale Q&A, a lovely panel on serial storytelling, and the last mainstage. There was a mock debate – first sock-sock-shoe-shoe vs. sock-shoe-sock-shoe, and then one about duck sized horses or one horse sized duck, but then there was some confusion about what the actual question was, so we all just sang the Lil Sebastian song (5000 candles in the wind) and moved on. Téa did MadLibs. There was a puppet show, in which they intentionally spilled potatoes on the stage (remember the potatoes). It was glorious.
From there, the HPA had a 10th birthday party. It was admittedly not what I was expecting, but that’s alright. Hank sang, Maureen read A Study in Sink. Open mic happened for a bit. Jake the tech guy had a signing line. And then we moved on to Too Much Light Makes The Baby Go Blind, a performance by the NY Neo-Futurists. I am absolutely amazed by that group. They do theatre as sport, with a race of the clock to do 30 plays in 60 minutes at random order with no fourth wall. Some plays are short [but also serious] (Every Single Word Spoken by a Person of Color in the Blockbuster Film Adaptation of Into The Woods), some of them are fun (the one where the ladies put nylons on to “I Feel Like A Woman” – it was called Sausage Fest), and some of them were dramatic realism (Gun Show). I loved them all. I will 100% go to another one of their shows, and you should, too.
Oh, before they started, they got us to count from 1-20 in Roman Numerals using our arms. It is my new favorite way of counting. During the show, they had water balloons on stage, which made me very nervous.
At some point here, a security guard asked Hank Green if someone had lost a potato. This prompted an entire twitter saga (which you can find here).
After that play, the convention was officially over. Except, it wasn’t, because none of us wanted to accept that. (Note that I’m sure some people did, as we didn’t have all 3,000 people with us. But still. Go with me on this one.)
I had made friends, miraculously, and we went to a British pub (because what do YOU do at 10:30pm on a Saturday in Minneapolis with nerds you met that weekend?). Turns out, there was a soccer game (but in the British pub, it’s football) playing, so the inside was PACKED. We headed up to the roof, which was also packed. There were maybe 8 of us (that’s a guess) to begin with, but that number grew to at least 25. A Slytherin and I had a fake “which House is better” shouting match, and then proceeded to rapid-fire-question-sort a Gryffindor. All before alcohol. (And then, of course, alcohol was brought into the picture.)
We talked for a couple hours. It was merriment and laughter. We moved to the Nicolet Diner, because it was open 24 hours and they had ice cream. They were good sports about seeing 22 or so nerds walk in at like 12:30am. It was the third time they’ve ever filled up the bar-style table we were sitting at. We played telephone pictionary and laughed. I think I left around 2 or 2:30.
I left Minneapolis at about 11:30 the next morning. I hate leaving conventions. It’s a sad time. The shuttle ride to the airport was probably the best one ever, though, because it was full of convention people and we talked about it the whole drive there. By the time I finally got home, I was tired and not in the mood to do anything except talk about the weekend to my parents and then sleep.
Today was back to grad school, with homework and class. I’m going bed now, October. I’ll write to you tomorrow, because I’m not finished reliving the weekend.
There are a lot of thoughts bouncing around in my head – thoughts that I’m not ready to tell anyone. They’re not bad thoughts, so no need to worry. I have things to say but I’m not exactly sure what they are yet. It’s frustrating, especially when I have a conversation that seems to heat them up, but I still can’t say exactly what I’m thinking. It’s not about having issues making decisions. I know what I’d like to say, but I can’t because it’s too mean. Or I know what kind of message I want to get across, but I don’t know which words will do the trick.
It feels sometimes like the things that I write (or say, but mostly write in my case) are like ingredients. But instead of normal ingredients, it’s like ingredients in the Potterverse, where you’re making a potion, and you’re adding things and hoping that you get it right so the whole thing doesn’t blow up in your face. You need it to be strong enough to work, but you have to add the ingredients in the right order (and the right quantities), because it will ruin the potion – possibly violently, or permanently – before you get a chance to correct it.
There are things I want to say, October, but until I get the ingredients right, I’m not able to say them. I’m trying to avoid something blowing up in my face because I was too quick to say something without the things to counter it.
My dad and I took a morning drive in his little convertible. It was gorgeous outside – a sign that autumn is finally coming this far south. We drove past Heritage Park, where Jazz Fest was happening. People were walking around, so they’d wave, and we’d wave back. It got to the point where we were just constantly waving. Dad asked, “are we in a one car parade?” We drove past an elderly man standing on the sidewalk. He waved. We waved back. “I guess so,” I said.
One car parades are fun.
I spent most of yesterday making Halloween cards. They’re so cute – I’ll post pictures and super easy instructions once I send them out. No spoilers!
I can hear sirens. My neighbors two doors down are screaming their heads off. The sirens are almost certainly getting closer. We’ve left the Christmas lights up in our backyard all year, and they’re so nice to look at. No one else sees them, so it’s not tacky, but Mom and I love them. I don’t know if my parents will ever take them down.
I’ve been bad about writing to you. This is normal for me. I’m sorry for that, my dear October. Life is busy and I often forget that I need to make the time to sit down and write to you.
I ran through the house a few days ago and Halloween-ified it. Mom was not impressed. Most of it stayed put (whooop), but a couple things had to be rearranged. I’m a little scared about what my future living space will look like around the holidays.
I made and decorated a cake, but I’m not totally super impressed with it. I like decorating cupcakes much better. Maybe it’ll be different when I make a taller cake. (Or, maybe when I don’t use purple frosting. Maybe.)
My days of writing to you are almost over for this year. I haven’t been the best correspondent; I’ll be better next year. Everything will be different by then. I can’t wait to tell you all about it.
I’m preparing for November’s arrival already. In years past, I’ve started preparing much sooner, but this year, it feels too early to welcome her. I made the countdowns for my birthday, Christmas, and graduation yesterday. I ordered and received one part of Travis’ birthday present. He’ll be 25 in 10 days, October. That’s just the craziest thing.
National Novel Writing Month has been a fixture in my life since 2009. I’ve participated every year except last year, because with the last semester of undergrad and a 30 page capstone paper (plus a 9ish page paper for finance…), there wasn’t time. That’s what I told myself. Then I spent the whole month, wishing I was writing.
I’ve spent a long time trying to get my voice back. Trying to get my head back to a place where I could write someone else’s story without mine getting in the way. I think I’m there now.
October, the night you leave, I’ll start work on the story of a girl that doesn’t have a name yet. She has an attitude and a setting, and I have an idea of where she’ll go, but that’s all. I have some words on a yellow legal pad and I think I have a title. I can’t wait to meet her, and November.
I promise I’ll write again before you leave.
if you’re not familiar with national novel writing month, check out their website. or check out the videoKristina Horner made. or check out the SECOND definition from urban dictionary. that should explain things.
Today, my management professor took our entire 90-person graduate class outside at like 8:45pm and had us do an activity. There were four leaders. Each leader had a piece of paper with a different shape on it. They knew the shapes; we did not. They had to tell us how to move to arrange ourselves into that shape, one leader at a time. The catch was that 1) they couldn’t say any shapes (“make a circle”), and 2) they couldn’t SEE us.
It was complicated.
The first one was a testing of the waters for all of us – leader and followers alike. We figured out the shape based on the directions, but we weren’t sure if WE could say it and take over the leading. Turns out, we could, and we did… but when someone’s told to listen to one person, they’re not so keen on listening to someone else.
Also, apparently grad students don’t know what shapes look like.
There was an aspect of people emerging as leaders. I’ve always been one to take charge. I want things done right. The second shape was a five point star. One guy was just standing there. He didn’t bother to look around and see if he was in line with the people next to him. I was one of the points, so I couldn’t move. Another girl came forward and got people to line up between the side point and myself, and then brought the middle. (This is hard to explain in words, but If you’re looking at a star, I was the point on the bottom right, and we made a line from me to the point in the middle on the right. Then, the MIDDLE of that line came in, so that the sides of my point and the other girl’s point, were formed.) It shouldn’t have been complicated. We’re all adults, in an MBA program, assumed to have some level of competence. Yet there were several people that also moved in when they shouldn’t have – completely cutting off the bottom right point. I actually said, out loud (but not TOO loudly), “do you not know what a star looks like?” My professor heard, and laughed, but also said that we shouldn’t criticize. To be fair, she looked more amused and not at all annoyed. She saw what was happening.
People weren’t listening. They were just kind of existing. Even with someone that could SEE us, specifically telling people where to go, they still didn’t listen. It was amazing and also really ridiculous.
I’m tired, October, and I’ve got a lot to do tomorrow. I think it’s bedtime.
I logged into my first email account from my computer today, which is something I haven’t done in ages. Usually, I just check it from my phone, since there are very few people that I SEND emails to from that account these days. When I logged in, I was able to see the various folders with ease.
And that’s when I remembered that I have thousands of emails saved in those folders. Hundreds are unread. It’s insane.
My brain refuses to put this eloquently, which is a little annoying, but essentially, even though I hadn’t even thought about these emails in months, I still couldn’t delete them. I haven’t read some, and I probably won’t ever, but WHY DON’T I JUST GET RID OF THEM?
I need to do that. It’s not even like they’re special. They all remind me of a time that is no more, and that both makes me sad and stresses me out. I’ll never look back at them. Yet there they sit.
On another note, there’s also a folder with 15.5K emails that I have read. The folder was created to prove that I was friends with a particular person, in the event we ever weren’t friends anymore. I don’t really know who I was going to prove it to… maybe just myself. Look, I could think. We WERE friends. I have the emails that show it. I’d be lying if I said that I hadn’t actually done that. I totally have – but not for several years. I don’t think we’ll be at a point where we aren’t friends anymore, but I still can’t delete them.
On a totally different topic, I got a new coloring book today. It is pretty and I quite like it already.
It’s past 1 in the morning, but I’ve not gone to bed yet, so I’m posting this for the 30th. I’ve got banana bread in the oven so I’ve got a bit more time before going to sleep. I’m not particularly tired, so it’s alright. My mom just woke up to get ready for work, so being super duper quiet is less of an issue (my dad can sleep through a lot). Of course, now I have nothing really to make noise doing.
I also made cupcakes. Those will get frosted tomorrow. I haven’t quite decided, but I’m almost thinking a thin layer of frosting over the whole top and then a red rosette on top. It’s not Halloween-y, or even autumnal, but I’d like to try it.
Today’s NaNo prep involved names. It’s amazing how everyone searches for “baby names”, when in fact, it should just be “names”. Unless you’re Alaska Young, you’ll have your first name for considerably longer than just as a baby. (Okay, so Alaska had hers for longer than just a baby as well, but it wasn’t meant to last her all her life.) (Go read Looking for Alaska. It’s so good but also tissue warning.)
I think I’ve got my main character named. Her first name is locked in; the last name may change. I’m still trying to figure out relations and how many actual characters I want to juggle. There are many people that exist in the peripherals of her life, but do I actually want to deal with all of them?
The answer is probably no, but also I probably will. Inevitably, I’ll need word count and pull in random people. That happens. Every year, I wish I was writing a fantasy novel so that weird things could happen. Every year, I choose not to write a fantasy novel. Maybe one day I actually will, but the thing that always holds me back is I have this idea that I want all of my books to exist in the same world. Maybe even the same town, or couple of towns, like Sarah Dessen does. Throwing a magical world in there would kind of mess things up.
An option is, of course, to use a pen name. I’ve thought about it, but it just hasn’t happened yet. I guess I should probably write the story first, and then deal with what name to use for it.
Sigh. October, where did you go? It was just the start of our correspondence, and I was in Minneapolis – a city I previously didn’t actually know how to spell – and everything was a whirlwind, both of good and not so good.
Back to NaNo for a moment – I’ve decided to use first person (or, try to use first person, until I get tired of it) this time around. I’m ready to see the world through the eyes of my main character. Spending a month AS her, instead of just watching her, seems like a nice break.
She might, by the way, have to do some serious analysis of Nissan, even though it really doesn’t fit with her story, because I have a report due on the 4th… so we’ll see how that goes. The plan is to not do that as long as I’m on track for my word count goals… so 7k words by Wednesday means no school work in the story. Here’s to that.
Well, November is here. National Novel Writing Month has begun – I’m not quite at my word goal for the day but I should hit it pretty soon. I’m a little wary of the novel; my main character is too nice and I can’t quite get her to be the snarky lady she’s supposed to be.
We had only a few little kids come by for candy. Of the first two that came by, one of them was deaf, so I learned how to say “thank you” in ASL. They were super cute. I also met a baby dressed as a unicorn, and she smiled at me. BABIES / LITTLE TINY ONES.
I didn’t do much dressing up. Black hair and heavy eyeliner, paired with a feathered witch’s hat, and I was good to go. I’ll just have to go extra crazy next year.
So now it’s time for me to say goodbye, my dear October. It’s been a pleasure writing to you. The next time you hear from me, I’ll be somewhere totally different with my life. I hope you’re well then, and remember that you have my love.