Starting over

Here we go again! It has been NINE YEARS since my first go at National Novel Writing Month, and though I used to take a crack at it every year, I eventually stopped trying. Not every exercise is good for every moment, and I have found myself suffering severe brain drain in the month of November.

A black, old-fashioned typewriter on a dark wood surface. The left side of the photograph fades into darkness.
Photo by Patrick Fore on Unsplash

This time, I’m saying, “Fuck it,” and choosing to have fun with it! I am reviving my old fantasy novel with a new outline and a goal of 50,000 words by November’s end. I’ve been idly adding to the “Research” folder in Scrivener when ideas for backstory strike me, and I’m ready to start doing something with all of that worldbuilding.

To set the scene: our story takes place in a world where magic is divided into colours and oaths can bind one to their word. One man seeks to escape a punishment that does not fit his supposed crime, a promise he made contrecœur, and he will travel the land in search of his remedy. Expect colour theory, queer sex, and genderfuckery!

“What, NaNo AGAIN? What about my cuddles?”

I won’t be keeping the fun to myself: I will invite those interested to join me on Patreon for updates and a weekly reading of my favourite tidbits. Stay tuned for further news of this wild adventure on the road to 50,000 words! Let me know about your project, NaNo or otherwise, in the comments! 📥

Pondering my job

I’ve thought a lot about my job, having decided at a very young age that I wanted to be a writer (with all the misconceptions of what that actually looks like). Then I struggled with the definition of “writer” and whether one has to have published anything to consider themselves “deserving” of the title. (You don’t; you are a writer if you write, regardless of frequency and quantity.) But while I knew in my soul of souls that I am a writer, the bills need paying, and thus employment is needed.

I’ve gone through a lot of jobs since I started as a so-called sandwich artist in a Subway attached to a gas station. I have long thought about a story that would weave them all together into a cohesive experience with a resounding finale, but who can ever be certain they have found THE job for them?

#Confabmtl presents Not My Job: Stories of paying your dues, labours of love, and learning to say no. A hand in a pink rubber glove holds a spray bottle aimed at the words "Not My Job," which drip as if wet.
Click the image to purchase your ticket! Saturday, October 15th at 8:00pm, Mainline Theatre

I’ll be telling a story with Confabulation on the Mainline stage for the first time since February 2020, which was the last time I told a story in public before my manager at Starbucks told us we could go home for two weeks. (Funnily enough, I won’t be talking about Subway or Starbucks this Saturday.) Since then, I’ve been an English tutor online, a customer service rep then call centre manager for a local eyewear company, and finally a massage therapist.

And that’s only a tiny part of the journey! One day, I’d love to spend an hour going through my CV and the various misadventures and lessons learned. For Saturday night, I’ll stick to one career transition, and I hope it resonates and gives people inspiration to take charge of their professional lives (as best they can).