Na-No-Wri-Mo-Oh-No
Our story begins in a parking lot by a Trader Joe’s. Where I run into my friend before I get to my car to leave for home. We shake hands, catch up, and then he says something along the lines of, “my daughter’s doing NaNoWriMo instead of her college apps.” Everything else is a blur.
NaNoWriMo. A stupid sounding word short for National Novel Writing Month. Also stupid. NaNoWriMo, where you’re supposed to write an entire novel in the month of November. Dumb. I remember hearing about it in undergrad and how it’s supposed to be this fun little challenge mainly directed towards kids. And I still feel the same way that I felt about it back then. In what world are we living in where anyone has any time for that?!
Even back in the prehistoric area, the caveman did not have time for writing silly novels as his time was instead occupied with hunting, gathering, picking up the kids from soccer practice, getting groceries, stopping by the inlaws’ house to pick up his caveman father-in-laws trusted club because his broke in the last T-Rex attack (it’s a damn shame too because he just bartered two goats for that last week), drop the kids back at home, run back to the grocery store because he got the wrong cream cheese (whipped, the right one is always whipped), and by then he’s just trying to catch the last glimpse of the game before he have to go to sleep and do it all over again at the crack of dawn. I mean– if you think it was a tough world out there for cavemen back then, just think about the modern cavemen now!
You couldn’t couldn’t pay me to write a book in a month. Demanding that of any sane person is absolutely, positively mad. You’ve got to be half-crazy and full-stupid to partake in that form of masochism. And yet, here I am, always complaining about how I never make anything anymore. How there’s never enough time in the day to make the things I want to make. That all TV is bad. And all movies are bad. And how I don’t even have the time to listen to my audiobooks– forget reading! And now, this stupid challenge is asking me to write?!
No sir, not me. Leave it to the stupid 17-year-olds and all the time they have to pursue their dreams and explore those silly ideas and put them down on the page and have fun doing a writing challenge with 400,000 other idiots. Some people just have the gift of writing and start early and are destined for greatness. A literal silver spoon in their mouth as they write the next great novel that they’ll add to their oeuvre. Can’t believe I just said oeuvre. Gag me with that spoon. Some people just don’t know how good they have it. Youth really is wasted on the young, huh?
Back to the Trader Joe's parking lot. My friend’s long passed talking about NaNoWriMo and moved onto talking about how the surf has been amazing but he just hasn’t had the time to paddle out in months.
The words slip out of my mouth, “so I’m assuming your daughter’s gonna study english or creative writing, maybe journalism?”
“Oh no– she’s doing biology. Wants to become a PA or something like that. She just does this stuff for fun. Kinda weird, I don’t get half the stuff she writes but yeah, she likes it.
“Oh… well tell her I said good luck with that and the college stuff,” I mumble.
He tells me he needs to run into Trader Joe’s because he needs to get creamed cheese. NaNoWriMo. Kind of a silly word if you think about it. It’s actually kind of fun to say, too. NaNoWriMo, NaNoWriMo. I wonder if it’s too late to start? Eh, but the game’s on and I want to catch the last bit of it before bed.
by
Nate Velasco
DEC 2023
