I'm writing this on Day 11 of Camp, so I'm a little late!
My experience so far is going really, really well. Better than any of my previous attempt at NaNo. I was a little contemplative over entering this month due to my April NaNo. I completely failed, bailed, and then cried wimpishly at myself.
I can recognise why I failed: I didn't dedicate enough thought to my story. I outlined it but everything was like a spider web and rather than being the spider, I was the fly--caught, trapped, unsure which way was forward. I didn't know what to do in my tangles of words. I think I barely got to 11K in three weeks. It just didn't work for me - and as someone who prides themselves on word counts, I struggled with that.
At the time, I was trying out several different manuscripts - none of them were quite clicking to work with me. Nothing was coming out right on the page. So I took a long, long break from writing. I worked on my TBR pile instead and tried to find the story out there waiting for me to reclaim my writing. I read avidly, knowing I wouldn't find my answer in books but knowing it would distract my brain from overthinking the problem.
Eventually, it hit me. I wanted a story with the more relaxed ruling of Lords; I wanted another female-centred cast, and I wanted adventure. My world-building absolutely sucks so this new story had to test that. Had to build on my lacking skills rather than run from them. During my long break from my laptop, I picked up a fresh notebook and began visualising my new story. Character names came swiftly; they all fit the images I had in my head. The world they all lived in fleshed in my mind; the layout and system of the world came to me. I took my notebook to work with me, as well as on holiday, and planned like I'd never quite planned before. With over 50 pages just in notes alone, I came back from my holiday in time for Camp, feeling determined and insistent that I could succeed.
So, for my Camp NaNoWriMo I'm working on a story about four girls, all from very different backgrounds and cities, all sent on one mission to retrieve a precious Jewel that controls the world they live in. It belonged to the High Queen, ruling over the whole world, and controlling the Lord who claim each city, and was stolen. There are high stakes, good ships, and hopefully varied locations!
At Day 11 I'm already several thousand words ahead of schedule, at just over 25,000 words. Share your NaNo stories with me over on Twitter @ShaneDReid!
Wednesday 11 July 2018
Tuesday 10 July 2018
Two Months Post-Shave - Why I Did It.
Two months ago, I did something so entirely me--yet it seemed as far from me as possible. In a way that can only work when your entire personality is split and you don't know who you are exactly most days.
Two months ago today, I decided that having hair--no matter how short it was already--simply wasn't enough for me anymore. I decided to shave it off--not to my bare scalp. I did a #3 on it. It was a decision I'd thought of for months. It was a decision I researched, I debated over with friends/family, and a decision I still don't have a solid reason for. Living in a home with a mum who loves reasoning, that was a difficult conversation. And when the person (me) who needs to explain, and can't? Everything was so much harder.
Now, I'll laugh and say, "Why did I do that?" But at the end of the day, I'll tell people one thing and admit another thing to myself.
"I needed to focus on my disliking for my own face. Apparently this is a method to help with that. There's no hair to hide behind," was one explanation. "I just don't like my hair," was the main one I spouted to my mother. "Aesthetic!" Was what I laughed over with my cousin.
"Honestly, I don't know," I said to myself. Here's the story:
I've always been hit-and-miss with my hair. Ever since I was 14 (I think, my memory is repressive and likes to become a net in which things slip through easily), and had my first proper short haircut, I was hooked. I preferred the way short hair looked on me; I preferred the lack of maintenance. (Which is a lie--haircuts need to be more frequent, so goodbye savings!) I liked the upkeep and feel of a new, fresh haircut every so often. Except it was every so often. Finally, for my Year 11 prom, I got the closed-cropped haircut I'd always wanted. I was excluded from most group photos, I heard my friends talking s*** about my new haircut, and felt the stares. But who cares? I felt comfortable with my hair. I've always been extremely firm in the belief that it's my hair, my consequences, and nobody else's business. I fell out often with my mum when it was Time For a Haircut because she loves long hair--loved long hair on me.
In late 2016, I had cherry-red hair and sported an undercut: a result of showing the hairdresser a picture of Min Yoongi and saying, "I want that." Of course, this is strange, I know. So I loved it; my mum hated it. Same old story. But fast-forward a few months, to April 2017. I suddenly got the idea that I should grow my hair. Not long, never past my shoulders, but maybe just see what change would occur in myself. 2017 was a year of utter lost for me. My decisions and choices were very skewed, but I persisted in growing out my hair. Every week or so, I texted my friend saying, "I just want to cut it all off again." And she recognised my fierceness and saw past the structure in my thoughts and suggested self-destructive tendencies. Safer tendencies; wanting to take out some repressed anger at the world on my hair.
And people loved me growing out my hair. My family who'd always endured my short hair started patting my head, complimenting the growth, saying how good I looked. They began to compliment me so much more. Of course it helped that I was discovering proper makeup during this growing-out stage--so my appearance overall glowed up, I suppose.
But then I recognised the problem that sat uncomfortably: I was no longer growing my hair for me, to see how I'd feel. It started to become for others, for their compliments, for the notice that something was changing about me again. My hair began to exist for their pleasing. When I looked in the mirror, my hair was just the same-old; I no longer found it satisfying. Whenever I styled it how I wanted and liked, my mum sort of laughed or told me to do a different thing to be more presentable.
I grew my hair from June 2017 - April 2018. And then one day, I'd had enough. I wanted a style for me again. I wanted to reclaim control of my hair. So I got it all cut off into an extremely short, #4 shaved sides, crew cut. Most in work complimented it, told me I suited the short hair so much better, and I felt more confident in who I was again.
But then I got something into my system that wouldn't shake loose until I satisfied it. I began romanticizing shaved hair intensely. I saw a lot of females on Pinterest and Instagram shaving their hair off and talking of empowerment. As someone who'd never felt much in control of their hair, this was like music to my ears. I yearned for that feeling of power over myself, to completely take it away from my family, and anyone else who thought they had a say as to how I should look. I was so inspired and insistent, driven a little mad by this idea; I messaged many people for their opinion even though I already knew I was going to do it.
So I was inspired, yet I looked for a hair colour I don't have. I only ever saw and admired girls with dark hair who'd shaved it all off. A ginger buzzcut, in my experience, is a very different story and look. In my experience, a bad one. As soon as I began to shave mine, I knew it wasn't the right decision. Instead of that control I'd wanted, I felt sick and anxious as I ran the trimmer over and over my head, taking off chunks of hair. So much hair I didn't even think I still had after my crew cut restyle. Instead of loving my new buzz, I felt anxious every time I looked in the mirror. I was left with the complete opposite of what I'd desired.
I'd had people support me, telling me what I wanted to hear, not what I needed to hear. All that came from my family and I wrongly resented it. Yes, it's just hair--but hair adds significantly to an overall appearance and when I sported something I did not suit and couldn't carry confidently? Nooooo.
Sometimes doing this is the right thing for people. Other times, it isn't--for people like me. Right now, I'm growing my hair back to a length I'll hopefully be happy with--at least for a while. The style I'm planning to get is another entirely new one.
So the end point is: I shaved my hair off chasing something that wouldn't have ever existed for me with a shaved head. I don't have a proper reason as to what came over me when I held the trimmer up to my hair, but maybe sometimes weird actions don't need one. I did it, I regret it, I look back on my pictures from that short time thinking how ugly I am, but it's hair: it's growing back. It's reconciling.
Two months ago today, I decided that having hair--no matter how short it was already--simply wasn't enough for me anymore. I decided to shave it off--not to my bare scalp. I did a #3 on it. It was a decision I'd thought of for months. It was a decision I researched, I debated over with friends/family, and a decision I still don't have a solid reason for. Living in a home with a mum who loves reasoning, that was a difficult conversation. And when the person (me) who needs to explain, and can't? Everything was so much harder.
Now, I'll laugh and say, "Why did I do that?" But at the end of the day, I'll tell people one thing and admit another thing to myself.
"I needed to focus on my disliking for my own face. Apparently this is a method to help with that. There's no hair to hide behind," was one explanation. "I just don't like my hair," was the main one I spouted to my mother. "Aesthetic!" Was what I laughed over with my cousin.
"Honestly, I don't know," I said to myself. Here's the story:
I've always been hit-and-miss with my hair. Ever since I was 14 (I think, my memory is repressive and likes to become a net in which things slip through easily), and had my first proper short haircut, I was hooked. I preferred the way short hair looked on me; I preferred the lack of maintenance. (Which is a lie--haircuts need to be more frequent, so goodbye savings!) I liked the upkeep and feel of a new, fresh haircut every so often. Except it was every so often. Finally, for my Year 11 prom, I got the closed-cropped haircut I'd always wanted. I was excluded from most group photos, I heard my friends talking s*** about my new haircut, and felt the stares. But who cares? I felt comfortable with my hair. I've always been extremely firm in the belief that it's my hair, my consequences, and nobody else's business. I fell out often with my mum when it was Time For a Haircut because she loves long hair--loved long hair on me.
In late 2016, I had cherry-red hair and sported an undercut: a result of showing the hairdresser a picture of Min Yoongi and saying, "I want that." Of course, this is strange, I know. So I loved it; my mum hated it. Same old story. But fast-forward a few months, to April 2017. I suddenly got the idea that I should grow my hair. Not long, never past my shoulders, but maybe just see what change would occur in myself. 2017 was a year of utter lost for me. My decisions and choices were very skewed, but I persisted in growing out my hair. Every week or so, I texted my friend saying, "I just want to cut it all off again." And she recognised my fierceness and saw past the structure in my thoughts and suggested self-destructive tendencies. Safer tendencies; wanting to take out some repressed anger at the world on my hair.
And people loved me growing out my hair. My family who'd always endured my short hair started patting my head, complimenting the growth, saying how good I looked. They began to compliment me so much more. Of course it helped that I was discovering proper makeup during this growing-out stage--so my appearance overall glowed up, I suppose.
But then I recognised the problem that sat uncomfortably: I was no longer growing my hair for me, to see how I'd feel. It started to become for others, for their compliments, for the notice that something was changing about me again. My hair began to exist for their pleasing. When I looked in the mirror, my hair was just the same-old; I no longer found it satisfying. Whenever I styled it how I wanted and liked, my mum sort of laughed or told me to do a different thing to be more presentable.
I grew my hair from June 2017 - April 2018. And then one day, I'd had enough. I wanted a style for me again. I wanted to reclaim control of my hair. So I got it all cut off into an extremely short, #4 shaved sides, crew cut. Most in work complimented it, told me I suited the short hair so much better, and I felt more confident in who I was again.
But then I got something into my system that wouldn't shake loose until I satisfied it. I began romanticizing shaved hair intensely. I saw a lot of females on Pinterest and Instagram shaving their hair off and talking of empowerment. As someone who'd never felt much in control of their hair, this was like music to my ears. I yearned for that feeling of power over myself, to completely take it away from my family, and anyone else who thought they had a say as to how I should look. I was so inspired and insistent, driven a little mad by this idea; I messaged many people for their opinion even though I already knew I was going to do it.
So I was inspired, yet I looked for a hair colour I don't have. I only ever saw and admired girls with dark hair who'd shaved it all off. A ginger buzzcut, in my experience, is a very different story and look. In my experience, a bad one. As soon as I began to shave mine, I knew it wasn't the right decision. Instead of that control I'd wanted, I felt sick and anxious as I ran the trimmer over and over my head, taking off chunks of hair. So much hair I didn't even think I still had after my crew cut restyle. Instead of loving my new buzz, I felt anxious every time I looked in the mirror. I was left with the complete opposite of what I'd desired.
I'd had people support me, telling me what I wanted to hear, not what I needed to hear. All that came from my family and I wrongly resented it. Yes, it's just hair--but hair adds significantly to an overall appearance and when I sported something I did not suit and couldn't carry confidently? Nooooo.
Sometimes doing this is the right thing for people. Other times, it isn't--for people like me. Right now, I'm growing my hair back to a length I'll hopefully be happy with--at least for a while. The style I'm planning to get is another entirely new one.
So the end point is: I shaved my hair off chasing something that wouldn't have ever existed for me with a shaved head. I don't have a proper reason as to what came over me when I held the trimmer up to my hair, but maybe sometimes weird actions don't need one. I did it, I regret it, I look back on my pictures from that short time thinking how ugly I am, but it's hair: it's growing back. It's reconciling.
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