I have finished the very rough draft of Carrying Light. Because of revelations I had while writing, some loose ends got fleshed out and worked on and rearranged. But this book will need lots of work.
Now I think I am going to cry. No real reason; this book put me through the wringer.
I can’t wait till the school year is over. Have I mentioned that I can’t wait?
The students and I have made this journey for the year, broken into two semesters, and we’re tired. The semesters culminate in final projects and exams, and none of us are at our best. I remind myself of grace and the fact that I was once a student, and not one a teacher would ask for.
I have 75 students in classes and about 6 interns each semester. We all have our issues that weigh on us. Some of my students have issues with depression or anxiety or other mental health concerns. Many work at least part-time besides going to classes. Some have learning differences and need accommodations. A few have family issues that pull at them. People have died in their lives — some too young. All of this at the same time as an educational experience.
This summer, I will supervise somewhere between 14 and 20 students. But it’s a different experience. Summer is more relaxed for me because I lead the internships mostly from home over the computer. I don’t have a lot of exhausting face-to-face time (as an introvert, this is so big) and no meetings. I think it’s more relaxing for my students as well, as their performance anxiety is less in an internship where they’re learning by doing. My students are still working at regular jobs, sometimes even full-time, so they’re still under stress.
I can’t wait till summer, and it turns out I don’t have to wait long. I have the rest of this week, and then next week is finals. I’ll have a bunch of grading, and then I will be done. I will turn in grades Monday the 8th and then start my interns with a presentation on Wednesday.
Wish me luck.
Yesterday was a grueling day putting together my book materials and making sure they’re formatted right. Everything’s uploaded to KDP; there’s no turning back.
I could, if I wanted to, turn my back on it and not give it any publicity. I could do that. But I won’t. I will do the best I can on publicity, although this too scares me.
Publishing Kringle Conspiracy is an experiment, to see what goes well and what I could do better next time, if there is a next time. It’s a way of seeing whether this is a way I would want to go again.
At the moment, I feel more exhausted than excited, probably because I spent six hours on it yesterday. I need to work on the positives to keep going.
Wish me luck!
Right now, my writing routine is disordered. It’s the first week of Spring semester, and I expend a lot of energy setting the scene in my classes for the semester. The creative space in my mind is filled with strategies for getting students to interact more in my class. My cognitive skills grind in the background on new tricks for explaining concepts.
When I get home from work, I’m tired. I’m “I can’t think anymore” tired. “Let’s watch some cat videos — aren’t those cats darling? (*sniffle*) tired. I study potential garden plants for my edible landscaping project, and somehow noting that Nectaroscordum tripedale is in the Allium family and will grow in USDA zone 5 takes up fewer brain cells than writing.
The exhaustion gets better once I get back into my routine. Three weeks from now I won’t even flinch at the everyday chaos — trudging through blowing snow into the building; the rare bedbug scare; the projector that refuses to project. My class plans will need adjusting but, hey, I’m a professional here. But those first two weeks wring me out.
I force myself to write during those times. I write this blog, even though I stare at the screen at times like this, searching my brain for topics. I set a task on my reminder software to write an hour every day.
It turns out that I don’t want to lose my writing, even if I never get published. I want the discipline, I want the joy of finally doing something with my creative side. I’ll have to take breaks, I’m sure. But I’ll fight myself — my exhaustion and my discouragement — to keep writing.
I’ve met my NaNo goal in half a month.
Phew!
But this novel writing is just beginning…
There’s about 40,000-50,000 words left to write, and then there’s editing, editing, and more editing. There’s letting other people read it for reactions. There’s marketing it to an agent.
But that’s okay.
Phew!
Words Like Me 