Last year was my first year of homeschooling.
(Well, other than once in fourth grade. But my schooling past, involving skipped grades and half-levels, is too complicated for me to delve into at this point.)
And through the various homeschool emails and webbernet groups my mom subscribes to we found this super-fabulous curriculum called the One Year Adventure Novel (loving shortened to OYAN by its devotees. Pronunciation is a subject of debate).
So, there I was with this book in my hands, pages all crisp and white, that new shiny textbook gloss glistening up at me, so much potential and excitement within that brick of papery goodness. I was set, I was ready to go. TIME TO WRITE A NOVEL IN A YEAR!
...Well, here I am again nearly a calendar year later, with 140 typed pages under my belt. And barely six chapters of the outlined twelve. I can feel my interest in my own story dwindling further by the day, sputtering out of the balloon that was so inflated at the beginning of this that it was near exploding; in my mind my plot becomes sillier and even more needlessly complicated in a story world that can't sustain it by the day. I'm a procrastinator, plain and simple. A procrastinator and a perfectionist, two labels that when mixed produce an almost deadly concoction of lazy.
I'm still going to finish this thing, though, if it takes me another six months to get my second wind.
But make sure you don't get me wrong: the curriculum itself is brilliant. I've learned more about writing- well, not just writing, but how to truly tell a story- this year than all the other years in my life combined. And the summer workshop? Absolutely AMAZING. The community that has formed around OYAN is something simply wonderful. Deliciously nerdy, enthusiastic and fun, bursting with the Holy Spirit. Someday when I have a couple hours of boredom I'll tackle trying to describe that five-day interlude of nerdfighting, Doctor Who cosplaying, cheering for Jeff Gerke whenever he took a drink on stage, craziness, worship, and of course, writing.
Until then,
May the soot gremlins hide faithfully in your attic.
~Elizabeth
P.S. My brother, who has been gone for five weeks at smarty scholarship camp, is coming home today! We cleaned his basement cave of a room (a task that should have involved shovels and pickaxes) and painted it, so I think he'll be pleased.
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