I’m failing miserably at writing in preparation for nanowrimo. I fear that I will not be in shape to crank out 1613 words a day (if I write every day of the month), let alone a full 50k by the end of November.
The writing I most enjoy reading is that which tells of the ordinary. Daily life is interesting or we’d all be walking around like the Monty Python monks, smacking our heads with heavy books, singing “Dona eis Requiem”. So, I shall write about daily life. Eventually it will improve. I’m serious about this now. I’ve had my chocolate muffin and it’s time for some work.
A story. The story of dinner last night.
The restaurant chosen is the friends' favorite. Years of visits and one restaurant. Sushi. Plates of sushi that weigh down the mind. I sit across the booth and watch these normally moderate eaters consume a vast array of sushi; at first with childish glee and at the end with the determination of a seasoned glutton. The enjoyment seems to morph from the delight of rediscovering a favorite to the pain of too much pleasure. I enjoy their show as much as my own modest plate vegetarian options. I sip my beer and watch them ponder which piece is going to be the last one eaten – the mackerel or the eel. The mackerel, to me, is the appealing of the two choices – a lovely white fish nigiri topped with shredded scallion; the eel is a greyish, unappetizing slice of water animal covered in a glistening brown sauce. No contest there.
My friend tells the story of his first experience with mackerel at a sushi bar. Sitting at his table enjoying his sushi, a strong childhood memory of the smell of mackerel was invading his foodgasm. Then, he remembers. He remembers feeding raw fish to the dolphins at Seaworld. Mackerel. Smart dolphins, he says and smiles as he eats the last bite of the appealing white fish nigiri.
When not watching my friends eat their sushi, I enjoyed the other restaurant patrons. The hipster boy in his “first come first served” t-shirt and his cute little faux-hawk, joined by the circuit-boy date in the red and white striped polo, collar up, sunglasses on the head. I don’t know what they were saying, but it wasn’t important. They were fun to watch in their animated conversation. The trio sitting outside, through the window from our booth, were a source of amusement. The couple sat down on one side and their friend and his dog sat down on the other. The dog had his own chair. Drinks were brought out – some lovely green martini thing – and a little to-go box, with food in it, was brought out for the dog. Later in the evening, as their party grew, chairs were added to the table, but the dog continued to hold his place.
There was a double date further down the row of window booths – cute college girls and their fraternity-boy dates. The boys reminded me of Old English Sheepdogs. Cute as can be, but you want to take a hairband and pull up the hair from their face. Do you have eyes? Let me see. I have difficulty trusting a person who won't show their eyes. I do wonder at the styles cultivated by some. The fraternity-boy style and the circuit-boy style are both curious to me. Though, at least the circuit-boy isn’t trying to be casual and unaffected. There’s none of that “oh, I just threw this on” pretence.
After dinner we had coffee.
After dinner we chatted.
After coffee and chatting, we slept seven hours.
I drove my friends to the airport this morning. They are headed to Wisconson for the wedding of a mutual friend. A friend who has long wanted to be a married person. I wish him the best. The drive was surprisingly easy. School is starting next week, so I think many are taking a last minute vacation to get ready.
That, ladies and gentlemen, was about 700 words. Three times that many words each day I must write in November. AND it must be a cohesive story with an arc of character and plot. ‘Tis a foolish endeavor, but it still makes me happy to think on it. I shall write a novel, a crap novel, but it shall be mine. I will no longer wonder if I had some wonderful bit of writing that I was simply too intimidated by the muses to release unto the world. So, my writing will get better and one day I will write of the ordinary in an extraordinary way. See, I am a Dem. I'm an optimist! Rah rah rah! Go me.
No comments:
Post a Comment