where the writers are
NaNoWriMo-Yeah I'm doing it.

I've been feeling odd the past couple of days. I think it's election burnout. And I lost $200 in my 401k. I know, I know, that's not a lot of money. Some people would like to chase me around because well, they lost their life savings. I hate losing money. I hate it with a passion.

The Jennifer Hudson story has also very much upset me-I watched her on American Idol and she blew me away, then I saw Dreamgirls and her performance of Effie was so layered, so tinged with the American Dream gone wrong, then it went right. When she won the Oscar, I cheered. Now she is going through a hell no person should go through, and it doesn't make sense.

And boy, I'm so sick of this election. I'm sorry, but I'm tired of both the candidates. I'm tired of Sarah Palin and Joe Biden. I'm not sick of Piper Palin, because she's cute as a button. I'm tired of the fighting, the ugliness, and the fact I still have no idea what's going to happen.

I told my friend Laura the other night I was crabby. "You're allowed," she told me.

"I'm tired of everything. I'm tired of the news."
"Baby, you can't watch the news anymore. It's going to drive you crazy."
"I think I'm already there."

And NanoWriMo is coming up. I've made notes for a novel, but the nagging voice in my head says: "Well! That's all nice and good. But what about the two novels sitting on your laptop? Are you going to work on them? Or are you just going to ignore them? And are you thinking about going to Starbuck's to write? Do you know how much a cup of coffee costs at Starbuck's? In fact, why write at all? What good is it going to solve? You heard it on the news, the printed word is going the way of the icecaps." Did I mention this voice sounds like Margaret Hamiliton, the woman who placed the Wicked Witch of the West?

Now when I write this down, my first impulse is to throw a bucket of water on her and watch her melt while drinking a cocktail. However, sometimes I wonder, why bother? Five years ago I tried to get an agent for a novel I wrote and it kept getting rejected, one by one. I worked on the novel for seven years. Now it sits in my top drawer, whittling. Why bother writing?

Then I remember a short story of Kurt Vonnegut's. It's called "The Kid Nobody Could Handle," about a music teacher who is popular with his students. He gets a new student who is just bad news. I know, I know, this story has been done to death. However when Vonnegut wrote it this idea was still fresh. Anyway, at the end of the story the teacher says to the class that they can all bring beauty in the world. Startled, the boy asks how. "Love yourself," the teacher tells him (and the class) "and make your instruments sing about it." Then he raises his baton and directs them to play.

It reminds me yet again you must do what you love do to do, in order to make yourself sane, in order to heal yourself. Yeah, it sounds New Agey and Artist's Way, but it's the truth. Otherwise, if we all stopped doing something artistic, let's face it, it would be pretty boring.

So if I'm on RedRoom less the next couple of weeks, you'll know why. I'm raising my baton, trying to bring beauty to the world.