So I'm doing National Novel Writing Month, which is in November. The idea is to write a 50,000 word novel in one month, in between cooking the turkey and thinking about Christmas gifts, that is. It started November 1, and thus far I have about 6,000 words of something vaguely resembling a memoir/chick-lit story.
I've been writing in the morning, in the evening, and any other time. I am avoiding all books this month because I don't want to accidentally take their voices. Which is kind of a bummer, but that's ok. One month without a book won't kill me. Especially since I am ordering the new Matthew Shardlake mystery and can look forward to that. Tudor mysteries do it for me, what can I say.
I also spent the weekend being super-domesticated. I made pumpkin bread with real pumpkin. And then practiced making my Thanksgiving Turkey, with homemade stuffing (I cut up the bread myself). I have discovered a great appreciation for cooking in the past few months. As in cooking from scratch. No mixes, no boxes. When I go to the grocery store I buy fresh ingredients. It's been theraputic and meditative, and I love opening the fridge to see lots of fresh veggies that I've never heard of before. Like a celery root. What's a celery root? Who knows, but it sure was yummy in my turkey/leek/celery root soup.
And I'm super-excited to vote Obama tomorrow.