The funny thing is, I’m being put back to super-part-time at work for the month of November. If all goes as planned (which, admittedly, at my workplace rarely happens) I’ll be working one day a week. This will be hard on my pocketbook, but definitely a plus for NaNoWriMo (and the other idea I’m cooking up).

I’m slowly getting enough ideas for my novel to at least get started, but to be honest I’m terrified by the lack of planning. I keep trying to remind myself that half-baked always seems to work better in November. Overplanning is definitely a bad thing for the thirty-day novelist. My characters are getting names, backgrounds and motivation, my town is getting a map. Once I have an ending, that’s all that really matters. Right? RIGHT???

For me, names are a requirement for creativity. If I don’t name a story, a character or a place before writing about it, it nags at me and drives me crazy while I work until I stop to name the thing anyway. So I might as well just start off with figuring out the name in the first place.

This year’s NaNoWriMo novel is tentatively titled Dragontree’s Curiosities. I like it because it rhymes, and because it has that cool word “dragon” in it. If I keep working and I still like it, and nobody’s face contorts in disgust when they hear it (at least in my presence), I’ll probably keep it.

The name gave me a burst of ideas, which names always do. I’ve been scribbling them down as fast as I can think of them, and I have a book on its way from Amazon that should spark more creativity. I have a location (somewhere near here), a story arc for this first book, and a series story arc as well, which all sort of came together at once by happenstance once I had the name. I’m already weaving in the story’s symbolism. Yes, yes. It is going well.

Obsessed with French culture as I am, and especially intrigued by the enigmatic French woman (as I see her anyway), I try to pick up any book that can give me insight on her (generalized) psyche. Veronique Vienne and her work are often hailed as an inspiration to women. Her other books must be better.

It’s a pleasant little book to hold and page through, with a lovely design and charming illustrations by Ward Schumaker. Unfortunately, the contents are less captivating. With the start of each chapter devoted to a basic aspect of daily life (”You”, “Other Women”, “Men”, “Sex”, “Fashion”, “Entertaining”, “Family” and so on), I felt hopeful that I’d gather some new insight on how life can be lived more authentically, how to better appreciate the small details of my existence. After being fooled time and again by a promising opening, in the end each chapter managed to simultaneously tell me what I already knew, and impart some goofy wisdom like, “A bow is not unlike a heart. It even looks like one.” “A knight who disappoints a damsel does her the greatest favor–that of reminding her that she doesn’t need to be rescued at all.” (Um, we all do, sometimes. Them, us, it goes both ways. It doesn’t change reality to deny it.) “Loving him translates into loving yourself–loving the love that burns inside your chest.” Sorry, but I can safely say, in a pig’s eye. That’s called narcissism.

Not that there’s nothing good about this book. Occasionally, Vienne makes a worthwhile observation, as in her chapter on shopping: “The goods we get in exchange for what we pay are only a small portion of the full value of a transaction. A chance to put money back into the economy and give it to deserving people or causes in fact an important part of the equation . . . Buying stuff is a way to invest in the things we value and support the people who profit from it.” But then she’ll follow that up with dumb advice like, “What makes you rich is not how much you keep but how much you can afford to spend on things that are usless or superfluous!” (A dangerous attitude in a culture wherein acquisitiveness has become a life-threatening disease, if you ask me.) She goes on to claim that using cash to pay for things will somehow, magically help you acquire better taste, and then you’ll spend more wisely. What nonsense. Every day I deal with people paying with both cash and credit, and believe me, they are equally tacky.

This sort of weird logic flows throughout The Art of Being a Woman, and although there were a few things that made me nod in agreement, they were far outnumbered by the times I rolled my eyes or sighed impatiently. Most annoying, Vienne talks out of one side of her mouth at the beginning of a chapter, the other by the end, changing her mind innumerable times in the middle. It would seem that to Vienne, being consistent wouldn’t be womanly, and this only feeds the stereotype of women as irrational creatures. This book is incredibly silly, even for a book about “everyday love and laughter”.

No, it’s not Mork’s catchphrase! It’s National Novel Writing Month! And I swore I wouldn’t do it again.

Probably every year after the first, I’ve been less than enthusiastic about participating, mostly going along with it because I knew other people who were. Whenever the first emails would show up in my inbox I’d kind of shrug and ignore them, then end up participating anyway. Last year I decided I was done, it was time to stop; I couldn’t work in that sort of time frame.

A few days ago, however, I got the email announcing that the site was closing for changes, and that signups would be open October 1st (tonight), and I felt an unexpected surge of anticipation.

I have a good idea.

I will have the time.

I need a way out of my job selling clothing to snotty Paris Hilton wannabes.

So I will do what I always do when despair seems determined to swallow me whole: I will write!

The Anti-Pedantry Page, a link everybody should add to their bookmarks.