Along the way, I’ve developed some tactics to help me get past the how-do-I-even-begin hump. Here are a few:

1. Warmups. Not every project lends itself to warmups, of course (I don’t know what sorts of warmups one can do before scrubbing out the bathroom–and no, I don’t really need to know if there are). But you can ease into a difficult task. No one goes into a rigorous exercise routine without stretching out their muscles. I don’t tackle a difficult piano piece without limbering up my fingers with scales, or something easier.. In the same way, writing warmups can help get you into the mood before you have to figure out how to rescue the beautiful Princess Meliandora from the Dark Lord’s impregnable fortress. I recommend freewriting.

2. Break it down. Writing a novel is a big undertaking. So is cleaning your entire house. Or starting a business. Or creating a historically accurate Marie Antoinette costume. My advice? Break the project down into manageable chunks. Don’t think of it as writing an entire novel, but as getting to that first candybar scene. Focus on one drawer instead of the entire house.

And celebrate the milestones, even if it is with a cookie or five minutes to check Twitter/Facebook/email/[insert social media of choice].

3. Give yourself a time limit. I’ve extolled the virtues of  writing in sessions of 10-20 minutes before. You can do anything for a short burst of time, whether it’s weeding or scrubbing the inside of the oven or drafting a blog post. Sometimes that short time period is enough to get you going so you can continue even when the timer beeps. Or, if you’re like me, you write super-fast in order to cram in as many words as possible before the time runs out!

4. Get support. Make your goals public. Tell your family and friends what you’re going to do. Use the #amwriting hashtag on Twitter, tell your Facebook friends you’re attacking the attic today (and that they should send in search parties if you don’t re-emerge in a few hours). Get your spouse to prod you, and your friends to harass you about your goal (in a nice we-support-you sort of way). Tell your blog readers you’ve decided to post every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday–oh wait, did I say that out loud? *grin*

5. Get it on the schedule. Clear your schedule for your project. For the longest time, exercise wasn’t even in the kitchen for me, much less the back-burner. Now, with my husband working from home, I have a standing date with his iPhone to listen to a podcast while taking a brisk walk during the kids’ afternoon Quiet Time. Hire a babysitter, send the family out of the house, or go out yourself–just block that time off. Put it on the calendar, even. In pen. It makes it all the more real and official.

What about you? How do you deal with procrastination?

It’s also nice to have some tools to make reaching that 50K goal that much easier. Here are some that help me out when I have  a writing goal and a hard time getting down it.

If you’re into tracking numbers and calculating daily goals, try out WriteTrack. It’s a wordcount tool that let’s you adjust your goals as life happens. Full disclosure: My husband–2009 NaNoWriMo winner–created this as he was dissatisfied with other wordcount trackers. But 342 unbiased iguanas and 210 agreeable aardvarks think this tool is great, so you don’t just have to take my word for it. *grin*

I don’t know about you, but I like to write to music. Pandora lets me create stations to fit my every mood. From adventure music (a la Pirates of the Caribbean) to soft dreamy New Age (Secret Garden), I can have a soundtrack for every scene I write.

Sometimes though, I just don’t want to write. My body whines I’m too tired!, my brain whispers Take a break! You deserve it tonight. Starting is the hardest part of writing, and I need to fool my brain and fingers into writing. So, I use an online timer and set it for 10 (or 15, or 20) minutes. It’s only 10 minutes, I coax myself. Give me ten minutes, and then we’ll see about that episode of Numb3rs. Usually, after the timer beeps, I can persuade myself to do another session or two, or three. Before I know it, I’ve hit my target wordcount.

It’s the how-to-eat-an-elephant-principle. One bite at a time.

Do you have any tools you use for NaNo?

And so being the writers that we are, we dared each other to write magic school hazing scenes. Jo’s got hers up here and mine is down below:

Senses Box

I don’t know who started them, but the whispers tagged us all day. We shared the news behind raised hands as we ate our accustomed breakfast of oatmeal—lumpy, not mashed like what the First Years got. We passed it along in the white hallways, our words sinking into the padded grey carpet. The news made us squirm, tugged our attention from Master Nyssa in Colors.

Rol’s got a Senses Box! An Upper Level Senses Box!

Master Nyssa took us through the greyscale, then rapped her pointer, just hard enough to make us wince. “Pay attention, class. This next swatch”—she tapped at the black-covered board—“is 5% red in white. We call this tint pink. Prepare your mental walls.”

Our first exposure to a primary color! We all straightened, donned our most focused expressions, clasped our (grey) gloved hands and set up our mental walls against the onslaught.

Master Nyssa went around the room, checking posture, mentally scrutinizing blocks, murmuring reassurances that at our level of training, a tint would not cause permanent damage.

Then she removed the black covering.

Red screamed off the swatch and arrowed for my eyes. My mental blocks were too small, too pathetic. The color pierced my membrane, seared through the liquid in my eyeballs, targeted my nerve. It electrified its way up to my brain, shattered my barriers one by one…

…. hit my primary defenses. And stopped.

I panted. Sweat trickled down my back. Slowly, I came back to my surroundings, dazed, crouched over. Many of my peers had collapsed. Trig was a heap on the floor, several classmates held their heads and moaned. Retching sounds came from behind me. Only Ava looked serene as usual, though her hands clenched each other so hard it was a wonder her nails hadn’t poked through.

Master Nyssa briskly administered restoratives. “Not bad for your first time. Good work, Ava and Fali. Run along to Master Derk now. He’ll understand.”

Master Derk had been warned; he was unsurprised to see only the two of us out of the entire Second Year class. We spent Sounds listening to single musical notes, separated by vast spaces of silence.

Lunch was mashed potatoes without even a shake of salt. Someone had judged that the Second Years had suffered too much sensory assault already.

Back to baby food. I sulked, craving the tingle of salt crystals on my tongue.

The Masters had warned us about addiction to the senses. It was a common failing of those of us born to see the world in all its riotous glory, and to manipulate the fabric of its being. Most of our kind didn’t make it out of babyhood, burned to the core by the colors and curves of everyday things, driven to anguish by the touch of a mother’s hand or the crocheted trim of a blanket. Those who survived shut themselves up in their minds behind walls of impenetrable darkness or abandoned their bodies for a brief passionate life entangled in a wall-hanging, a flower, a sunbeam.

They tell us that we are the lucky ones, kept in ascetic surroundings since our babyhood. The Masters slowly introduced us to sights, smells, tastes, sounds, and textures, and coached us to not be overcome by them. Afterwards, we’d move on to the Collegium where we’d learn to manipulate what our senses perceived.

***

Rol swaggered by with his tray, dramatically tripped on my chair leg (perhaps an inch or two out of its regulated space—Sounds always made me hungry), and sent his dishes flying. Carrot chunks pattered onto carpet, gobs of applesauce rained on Kiri, who beat at the clinging ooze on her robes with rising hysteria. The Second Years let out whispered shrieks at the clatter of bowls and tray and the fleshly thump of Rol hitting ground.

I looked down, mashed potato halfway to my mouth.

Rol grinned at me. His eyes were just shy of unacceptable coloration. “An hour after Lightsout. In the Smell Lab. The Senses Box.”

The Masters swooped down on silent feet. One clapped a mildly-scented washcloth on Kiri’s face, calming her down immediately. Another made a gathering gesture and the offending carrots disappeared. Master Derk hauled Rol to his feet.

“’Sokay, ’sall right. Thank’ee for asking.” Rol brushed his rumpled robe and spoke too loudly in the fake commoner’s accent he affected. He piled his tray haphazardly with bowls and sauntered off.

I stared after him. I’d been noticed. I’d been invited.

I was… somebody.

***

The lab was locked and they were late. I’d been trained—as we all had—to stand still for long periods of time, but it was hard not to fidget.

Rol’s gang didn’t make a pretense at being quiet. Their smothered laughter, the scuff of their feet, the scritch of their clothes made my heart beat faster. As Rol unlocked the door, the hulking Nar showed how he’d pinned paper on the inside of his robes to make them crinkle in that ear-grating way.

In spite of the greasy-feeling bespelled air, the ghosts of old scents lingered inside the Lab. I picked out something citrus, something metallic, and stinky feet.

“This way.” Rol strode to a smooth-surfaced white table and withdrew the Senses Box from his robes. We took in a collective deep breath. It was white and rectangular, with a Fourth Year sigil on the lid.

“How’d you get this, Rol?” breathed Fi, a wispy Third Year with a paler-than-normal complexion.

“I have my ways.” Rol stood up straight. “All right, let’s do this. Nar, you’re first.”

“Awww, Rol. Why me?” In spite of his grumbles, Nar stepped up to the table.

I stared fixedly at the signs on the sides.

WARNING—PRIMARY COLOR OVERLOAD

CAUTION–CURVES

BEWARE—OLFACTORY AND GUSTATORY EFFECTS

And in the biggest letters of them all: MUTABLE

Which was code for organic. My palms grew sweaty.

Nar leaned forward; Rol flipped the lid open. Nar peeked in, eyes screwed almost shut, then reared back and hurried away. Rol shut the lid, but not before I caught its smell through the sluggish air…

Fi was next. One quick look, then her face took on an unhealthy tinge and she scuttled away, holding her stomach.

Flip, peek, hurry, flip. Flip, sway, get pushed aside, flip.

Then it was my turn. The foreign scent of the object inside, heavy and warm like a hand against my lips, fired my nerves. I wanted whatever it was. I wanted to taste it so badly my hands tremored.

So when Rol flipped the top open again, I thrust out my hands, grabbed the object—oh so wonderful and smooth, firm and yielding—and stuffed it into my mouth.

An explosion of color like sunglare in my eyes, rubbery sensation on my tongue that gave way to taste… by the One, the taste of the thing!

Last things I saw, before I was overcome with bliss, were Rol’s gaping mouth and rounded eyes.

***

Three weeks later, once the explosions stopped and the cacophony died to a murmur, they told me what happened. How Rol had fled to the Masters as his gangmates shrieked and scattered. How I’d been stripped and immersed in natal fluid like a baby. How I’d screamed at the light from a single candle, the sound of a whisper.

They told me what it was I put in my mouth. They pulled sad faces, spoke in weighty whispers, told me I’d learned my lesson.

When they left, all I could think of was what awaited me in the world beyond these walls. Of all the wonderful sights and smells, tastes and textures I was missing.

And how I could get my hands on another banana.

So, no summer vacation for me this year (but the kids are getting one–barring light school in math and reading–and I’m off the hook for prepping lessons, yay!). The Plan is to be done with the revision by the end of August. To keep myself honest, I’ll be posting weekly progress updates and I expect you guys to poke and prod me if I get lazy, k?

What about you? What are your summer projects?

The bulk of my reading was in the fantasy genre. No surprise there. Fantasy is my first love, and what I write. I discovered several trilogies and series that I enjoyed–Garth Nix’s Keys of the Kingdom, Angie Sage’s Septimus Heap books, the Crosspointe novels by Diana Pharoah Francis, Brandon Sanderson’s Mistborn, Nathalie Mallet’s Prince Amir series and Robin Hobbs’ Liveship Traders trilogy. I read Neil Gaiman and Elizabeth Bear for the first time. I rediscovered Diane Duane’s Young Wizards series. A lot of Young Adult and Middle Grade books made it into my reading pile.

I balanced the shorter books with doorstoppers like Charles Dickens and A Suitable Boy. I wanted to read more classics, but only managed a small handful. Pearl Buck’s The Good Earth ranks as the book I’m most ambivalent about, the one I found both fascinating and repulsive. It was like a horrific trainwreck that I couldn’t wrench my gaze away from.

I read some non-fiction, but not as much I would’ve liked. Mark Kurlansky’s Cod and Salt rank as the two of the more enjoyable ones. I only read one book on American history–Joseph Ellis’ American Creation. Outliers was fascinating, Your Child’s Growing Minds was informative and The Creative Habit inspirational. Karen Andreola’s comprehensive A Charlotte Mason Companion rekindled in me the desire for a literature-and-nature-rich education in our home. It made me view parenting and schooling as two sides of the same coin; it brought home to me the importance of character in a child’s education.

My reading goal for 2010 is 75 books (but no beating myself up if I don’t get there), and expand my non-fiction reading. I want to read at least three books each in the categories of American history, creativity and theology. I want to read much more about history and other cultures. I want to read science books (any recommendations?).

If I get any classics in this year, it’ll be gravy.

I’m also changing the way I review books on this blog. I’ll list my monthly reads with little to no commentary, and do separate review posts for those books I feel the need to say a lot about it.

Do you have reading goals for the year?

The Chinese New Year

Once upon a time, the Chinese people lived in China. One day they woke up. It was Saturday and they thought they would eat blueberry muffins. They made red envelopes and put money in them and scotch-taped it for the Chinese kids. Then the Chinese kids opened up the envelopes and found a nickel. After dinner, they had the parade. They had a dragon and drums and horns and lanterns and a lion. It was the Chinese kids’ bedtime after the parade. They went to the bathroom and washed their hands and brushed their teeth and their daddy read them their bedtime story. After when the Chinese daddy read the Chinese kids the bedtime story, he said their prayer, then the kids fell asleep and the Chinese daddy turned off the light and turned on the music and shut the door.

I like how the Chinese kids get American money. *grin*

In fact, the more, the better!

Since this is a new year and all, I signed up for a reading challenge: 52 books in 52 weeks. I started strong with a theology book (Tim Keller’s The Reason for God) and some kids’ books (Septimus Heap and The Mysterious Benedict Society). I was bogged down for over a week in Your Child’s Growing Mind, but finished up today with a chapter on encouraging the kidlets’ creativity. Good stuff, there.

Now to choose the next book.

In my library bag are:

• tons of picture books (alas, those don’t count even though I spend about an hour a day reading them aloud)
• Mister Monday and Grim Tuesday by Garth Nix
• The Good Earth by Pearl Buck
• Cod: A Biography of the Fish That Changed the World by Mark Kurlansky

My reading is all over the place, but I’m trying to make sure to hit a few categories this year: American history (this is an ongoing course of study!), theology (I’m in a book discussion group focused on this topic), education (methods, philosophy, anything and everything that’ll help me be a better teacher), books about or set in other cultures and countries, and, of course, continuing to read widely in the spec fic genre.

And I’m leaving lots of room wide open for recommendations, books that catch my eye and the following of rabbit trails.

Do you have any books to recommend?

All my stories need simmering, but there are only so many mental burners available. All too often, bossy overbearing thoughts shove the stories out of the way. If I’m lucky, the stories end up in the deep freezer, lying dormant next to structures of organic molecules, second order differential equations, the names of my elementary school teachers and mystery meat. Perhaps I’ll find those stories again some day. If I’m unlucky, the stories fall to the floor and fly apart in gushes of half-done soup and pot fragments, never to be reclaimed.

Sometimes, I wish my stories would shove back (and some do). Most, however, are quite shy and passive. The bullying thoughts are many, and come in many shapes and sizes, but fit in one of three not-story categories.

Category one is the minutiae of daily life. Planning meals. Making shopping lists. Juggling schedules. Returning calls. Writing emails. Checking Google Reader. All of these take up valuable headspace. Take planning meals, for example. It’s not enough for me to declare, “Tonight we are having pizza with scallions and peanut butter sauce.” Nope. I have to go through a list of questions, such as: Do we have scallions and peanut butter in the house? Do we have room in the budget to buy scallions? Will D. be able to find scallions at the grocery store? What the heck are scallions, anyhow? Can I find a picture online of scallions to show D.? And, will my family stage a revolt if I served them pizza with scallions and peanut butter sauce?

Yep, that one meal snitched about half the headspace required by the sequel to Out of Shape.

Category two: worries, concerns, anxiety. These range from the small (“If I let my kids out of the house in their current choice of clothing, will I be arrested by the fashion police?”) to the large (“Oh my. Our IRAs took quite a hit last year. Shall I sell an ovary now, or take a job as a Wal-Mart greeter when our youngest starts college?”).

There goes the second half.

Category three: My other interests. Theology. Homeschooling. Blogging. Giant squids. The endless quest for the perfect chocolate dessert. These can be the hardest to curtail because they too are worth pursuing. It’s just that my headspace, like my time, is a finite resource. Here is where I need to make hard choices.

I will probably never learn to knit. My crocheting will continue to be… interesting (as D. says, “Handmade is supposed to look handmade”). Riding horses may just happen in my imagination. And the writing will be slow during the years I’ll be teaching the kids at home.

This I know. But I am content.

Now. If I schedule chicken nuggets and fries for dinner every night of the week, do you think I can reclaim headspace for that sequel to Out of Shape??

It’s not the lack of money more than it is the lack of readership that bothers me. My husband says that it’s a pride thing instead of an avarice thing for me. Darn right. If I’m spending all this time crafting and polishing my stories, I’d like to have lots of readers, please. Preferably tens of thousands of them.

That said, I got a thousand words on the last story of this month. So, despite my pessimism, I’m still planning on inflicting my work on the unsuspecting populace. Oh, and ALSO, I got my contributor copy of Neverlands and Otherwheres which includes my story Second Sight (written as R. A. Gale). I got a real kick out of watching my husband read my story in its published form. Hee.