Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

calling

A novel experience

Waking up at 5 a.m. is crazy, right?

Waking up at 5 a.m. every day for a month, even crazier.

I mean, it’s not like I had a baby to feed. My kids wake up early, but even 5 a.m. is early for them.

So, what would have compelled me to lose sleep, drink more coffee and wake up before the sun?

One word: NaNoWriMo.

Okay, so that’s not really a word. But it is the reason. I first heard about National Novel Writing Month last year while it was going on, and I was unprepared to participate. It’s been on my radar ever since, so when November approached this year, I created a plan to complete the goal of NaNoWriMo: write a 50,000-word novel from November 1-30.

The plan included waking up at 5 a.m. daily to write as much as I could before the first child woke up for the day.

Some days, I succeeded. Success to me was 1,000 words or more per day. Other days, I failed miserably. And by that I mean I didn’t even get out of bed.

But as of today, November 30, the final day of NaNoWriMo, I’m proud to say that I have written 35,000 words this month. Added to a previous 7200 or so that I’d written before the month started, and I now have over 42,000 words of a novel written.

What?!?

I knew going into this that I probably wasn’t going to make the 50,000 mark. My kids woke up earlier than usual. The words wouldn’t come. I had other writing projects to finish. My husband needed the computer. But I knew that whatever I accomplished was success because I rarely make writing a priority. How can I? I full-time parent two full-time kids.

This exercise proved to me that it can be done, but it requires sacrifice, namely sleep, but I’m convinced that’s why God allowed coffee to be created. Mmm … coffee.

Where was I? Oh, yeah. What I learned from NaNoWriMo.

Not only did it teach me discipline in making room in my day for writing, it also confirmed my call to write. At the same time, it frustrated my call to write. On the days I got in a good chunk of writing, I felt like a better mom because I wasn’t thinking about writing all day long. I’d already done it. Other days, I barely scratched across 500 words because I was out of the chair every five minutes to grant a breakfast request for my kids or change a diaper or wipe a bottom.

I haven’t gone back yet to review what I’ve written, but I’m in awe of the story that has unfolded. I don’t say that to brag on myself. I am convinced that God has called me to write, and to write this story in particular. Maybe that sounds weird or arrogant, but that’s the best way I can explain it.

Writing a novel is hard work. Duh, right? I think I have as many questions in the margins as I do words on the page. I’m eager to do some research and fill in the blanks. I don’t know if this story will ever see the light of day beyond my computer, but I’ve started the journey and I’ll go as far as God allows me to go.

To all you WriMos out there who made the 50,000 mark — way to go!

To all who participated — you rock!

And if you thought about it but didn’t — maybe next year?

Thanks, NaNoWriMo, for the inspiration.

It’s been a November to remember.

Snapshots from my recent guilt trip

I feel the need to confess. I’m not 100 percent satisfied with being a mom.

I love my kids. They’re a great joy. They make me laugh, and I’m grateful that God gave them to me. I’m still amazed at the whole womb to birth to child development process.

But.

I need more than this. More than dirty diapers, jarred baby food, car seats, breastfeeding, potty training, waking up at 5 a.m. to crying children and a constant state of unclean. People tell me I’m going to miss these days. Really? I’m going to miss graham crackers stuffed into a piggy bank?
Stepping on toys in the middle of the night? Temper tantrums? Getting up 20 times during a meal to meet the needs of a  2-year-old, then a 10-month-old, then back to the 2-year-old? Stickers in every corner of the house, and on the van?

And for this, I feel guilty.

I know moms who seem to be totally content in their role. I love that you home school, make Halloween costumes, create fun activities and projects to do on rainy days, and enjoy your kids so much that even a day without them is hard.

I’m not you.

For this, too, I feel guilty.

Why is it that no matter our situation, we moms seem to always be on a guilt trip? And is it only moms or are women, for some reason, prone to book themselves on a one-way flight to can’t-measure-up land?

I heard at Bible study tonight that women find it tough to be “too much and not enough all at the same time.” (Our video quoted Staci Eldredge, “Captivating” author, among others.)

So, we can’t win? If we’re too much we feel guilty and if we’re not enough we feel guilty. That’s enough to make me feel guilty.

God has given me a passion — OK, I’ll call it a gift even if I don’t always want to believe that — for writing. And I’m insanely frustrated right now because there are words, stories, projects, scenes in my head, fighting for attention, trying to make their way from my brain to a computer screen somewhere, and I can’t make it happen. I can’t find the time. When I do have some time, I feel like I’m too wiped out to put in the effort writing requires. I need to read and research and write, and instead my days are spent with my two darling adorable children who will only be this age for so long, and at times, I’m resentful that I don’t seem to have any time to do what I was made to do.

And, you guessed it, I go back to feeling guilty.

So, what’s a mom to do? I can’t stop raising my kids. I’m not even sure we’re done having kids. I know that raising them is a worthwhile experience, but I can’t ignore the passion to write that burns inside me. I’m really bad at waiting. And I think to myself: if God is making me wait on the writing, then why is my head full of ideas?

I feel stranded, and I need a way out. I’d like to settle in the land in contentment, but I’m not sure I have the resources to make it there right now.

If you know a good travel agent, let me know. I’ve taken my last guilt trip.