Today is April 1st. In many places this is known as April Fools Day, but not in my house. I have an absolute hatred of pranks as 99% of them are mean spirited at best and absolutely cruel at worst (if not criminal) and designed to have amusement with someone else’s pain. Even the things that are considered harmless involve laughing at someone and then forcing them to clean up the mess of what you did. Luckily for me, my husband was born on April 1st. He spent years hearing the ever so witty joke, ‘Oh, so you ARE the April Fool,’ and agrees with me that this day sucks (except as his birthday.)
This year, in addition to celebrating his birthday, I am celebrating another day. April 1st marks the first day of the first session of Camp NaNoWriMo. (Don’t forget to sign up!) November was exhausting for me, but it was also effective, which naturally means I can’t wait to start again. I have my story picked out, my outline done, my opening line. In fact, as soon as I am done writing this, I’m onto my next novel!
I thought that I should take a moment this morning and explain why I might not be writing as much this month. You know, since I am pushing hard to write elsewhere. Then I realized, I haven’t been writing much anyway, so you might not even notice.
When I first started this blog, I wrote much more frequently. I actually had a schedule for myself, telling myself when I was going to write about what, and I often pre-wrote and scheduled my posts. What it really came down to was an excess of ideas. There were so many things I wanted to say, I felt like I needed to say them all, right away. Sometimes I would have a random thought and start writing with it, other times it was a weird observation. None of the things I wrote about at the beginning seemed like they were a big deal until I started writing.
I think with my fingers. It’s something I’ve noticed about myself. Something might be just a thought for a long time, and then when I sit in front of my keyboard and start writing a lot more can come out of it. Sometimes it is good, sometimes it is bad, but either way, I don’t know until my fingers do their little dance. Many of these random thoughts I had felt like they were something that might just be funny, and then I would start typing and everything would change.
Go ahead. Go back to a year or so ago and read some of my earlier posts. Somehow, no matter what I started with, typing it out seemed to give me some bigger or deeper meaning into who I am. It wasn’t what I set out to do, but there it is. Good for me, right? Sigh.
It’s not like I don’t like learning more about myself, or realizing why I do the things I do. It’s nice to occasionally realize that I was not just insane, some of these thoughts made sense, in some world, somewhere. But the constant making something small into something huge felt incredibly pretentious. I mean really, who wants to spend all of their time listening to someone drone on narcissistically about how the way they eat breakfast in the morning actually points to the greater issue of how to feed the world? (Don’t bother looking, that isn’t one of the early posts.) I didn’t want to be that person even more than I didn’t want to read about that person.
So, I started writing less. If I wrote less, and concentrated, fewer of my posts would end on a pretentious note. I started trying not to ‘wrap up’ my posts, leaving out anything that could be misconstrued as a larger purpose or thought. Basically, I was writing worse, and feeling like less of myself was really here.
This was where I started to hit my biggest fear. Was I writing pretentious posts because I am in fact a pretentious person? First of all, to be pretentious is to, in essence, pretend. A person who is pretentious is one who pretends to have knowledge or status when they really do not. You pretend that everything you have is greater and better than it really is. At least this is the technical definition. Generally speaking, a person is considered pretentious when those around them feel like less, rather then when a person acts like they are more. So, yes, sometimes my posts were pretentious, not because I was faking finding insight into who I am, but because I was attributing this knowledge of myself to the tiny moments which were not really that significant.
I stopped writing as many posts that could accidentally lead me to something bigger because I didn’t want to be that person. Then I realized, that maybe I am that person. Maybe I am just someone who will find deeper meaning in little things. I’m still not sure how I feel about that.
So, yeah. Writing for this blog has changed the way I write. I don’t want to be the person who is the person who I am, but the more I get to know the person who I am the more I see the person I don’t think I am. Is this a midlife crisis, or a middle school flashback now? Either way, it is very confusing.
Now is when I would normally try to give this post a neat wrap up, almost like what you would find in a sitcom. Everything has changed, yet nothing has changed at the same time. I give insight into why things are how they are for me, and realize that maybe I am smarter than I often give myself credit for being. Then, I read through and realize I kind of like what I realized, but worry about how the post sounds. Do I sound like a real person, the person who wrote this post while drinking their morning coffee wondering if they can skip washing their hair that day, or do I sound like a person who wears real clothing on a regular basis and leaves the house daily? If someone who only knew me from this blog met me, would they think I was the person who wrote it, or would they be instantly disappointed?
And see, I am doing it again. Maybe it isn’t the deeper insights I should worry about, but the fact that I care so much about what people think. Ugh.
So, yes. I am going to Camp, and yes I will post occasionally throughout. Maybe it will have deeper meaning into my life, and maybe I will write a poem describing the way my toe nail clipping fly, because honestly, both posts would be very me. But today, I have other things to worry about.