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I have no energy. I have been thinking about writing a blog, because this is one of the two days a week that I write one. But I feel as sapped as if I laid out in the sun for a few hours.

It’s National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) and I have decided to go ahead and participate, even if it means that I get to break a rule or two. For example, I am working on a mystery that I have been working on for the past 5 years. One way or another, I am going to complete that mystery. It might be shit — and may possibly be pure shit — but it will be finished.

Today, for the first time this month, I woke up feeling like I have some energy. In big part, this lethargy from the first few days of November is due to my saddest anniversary — Ruthie, my tiny stillborn baby, would have been 20 years old on November 3rd. This particular yahrzeit (the anniversary of death, for Jews, is remembered by lighting a candle for the loved one who’s passed away) wasn’t as painful as it once was, but is now just plain old sad. I felt sad for days prior to the 3rd, and now it’s like a low-grade, heavy ache in my gut. Grief, distilled somewhat by time, hangs on my shoulders as if I am carrying a pole with two filled buckets at both ends. It leaves me listless and lethargic, exhausted, as if I’ve worked hard physically. But since I haven’t worked out, this lethargy also makes it difficult for me to fall asleep.

But I also found I have no enthusiasm for this year’s NaNoWriMo. It actually took me a few days even to decide if I even wanted to participate. Today, I am convinced that it was the right thing to do. I am compelled to participate, because when I call myself a writer and don’t take part in NaNoWriMo, I feel like a grade A hypocrite.

Not to say that you may be a serious writer and never, not even once, participate in NaNoWriMo. You absolutely may be, and feel pretty good about your life. NaNoWriMo is an extensive, all-consuming project demanding an enormous time commitment, when things like laundry and cooking and hobbies fall by the wayside. That’s one of the reasons I’ve participated in four of them, but completed only three. One of the completed manuscripts devolved into soft pornography (or at least a few pages of smut) by the end, but I finished it and that’s all that matters.

So, I find myself unable to gather enough vigor to focus on things like blogs, although it is blogs that give me what little money I make as a writer. BE WARNED! Dear Readers, that this month I will definitely be shortchanging you — making small, inconsequential, rambling blogs instead of my usual, wonderfully witty, sharp, and informative ones!

So good night and good luck (to me as a writer and you as a reader). We’re gonna need it.

Written by

Writer and storyteller, immigrant, wife, mom, knitter, collector of jokes, lover of cheap, sweet wine.

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