National Day of Writing

Today is the National Day of Writing. All over the country writing is springing forth in honor—and now, as my day winds down, I can join the fray. I’ve thought about it all day, as I conferenced with students, reviewed and commented on portfolios, and sat through a school meeting. Does that count as writing?

Actually, I have craved some writing time for several days now. Last night I wrote briefly about how difficult it is to write in the midst of portfolios, which happens twice per semester. I find myself spent by the end of the day, all creative fire properly extinguished with gallons of metaphorical water and stirred to make sure no hot spots remain. Every time I experience this, I have the same fear—what if, this time, the muse doesn’t return? What if I’ve finally pushed her away once too many times? What if she just throws her hands up in the air and pronounces herself done with me? Why is she a she?

So far the fear hasn’t materialized as reality. Maybe she just likes me that much.

Next month I am embarking on an episode of total insanity. I will be participating in National Novel Writing Month, in which I will attempt to write 50,000 words in 30 days. That’s a lot of zeros after that five. And it’s not a lot of zeros after the three. Please don’t ask me why I would do this; I have no real answer other than life is short and so is November. Worse case, I’ll be wearing a brace for carpal tunnel by Christmas. Best case—I’ll finally get the book drafted, the one that has chased me around for years. Imagine its surprise when I turn around and say “Fine! Let’s do this!”


Today is also Spirit day. I wore purple in honor and memory of six young men and boys who have recently committed suicide: Tyler Clementi, Asher Brown, Seth Walsh, Justin Aaberg, Eric Mohat, Meredith Rezak, Raymond Chase, and Billy Lucas. All of these males were gay, and all were bullied. I don’t care what anyone’s personal beliefs are about homosexuality, we must take a stand against the hate-mongering that leads our youth to taking their own lives. We cannot come to this dance and just lean up against a wall. We must take care of our children.

And, of course, my heart is not only with these boys and men, but all those who face the hatred of others for any number of reasons, whether it’s their sexuality, religious beliefs, race, color, appearance, the way they talk or walk or dance or take out the trash—we must say it very clearly, very loudly:

No more.