White whales and secret shame

My friend Katie is worried she doesn't read enough books each year, but does the quantity matter if you're tackling the literary equivalent of Mt. Everest?

The Washington Post book critic is asking about readers' literary challenges. His are staggering accomplishments (Beowulf in Old English, anyone?). While I'm proud that I'm a dedicated reader, I don't feel obligated to tackle long, arduous works just to make a point. I need to enjoy the process, too. 

When I think of books that I've struggled with, Faulkner comes to mind. In high school, I waded through The Sound and the Fury; I wonder  if I attempted a re-read now, would it go any smoother?

There are books I've given up on -- Seeing, by Jose Saramago, is one. The long paragraph structure, the lack of character names, the endless sentences. The promise of a later payoff in the bookwas not worth my pain. 

Do you have a white whale, a book you just couldn't get through? What's your shame? Or maybe you'd rather brag about the one that you conquered, owned, dominated and now brag about to your literary-type friends. So... which is it?

Confessions from an Anxious Mind: A NaNoWriMo Writer's Story - Week 3

How to go about adjusting expectations? I wasn't as able as I expected to freeze my life; in fact, my commitment recently increased, so setting aside space to write has been a Tetrisian time-management challenge. I've spent much of the last week falling asleep with my fingers dangling over the keyboard, waking up with streams of nonsense garble all over my computer screen. I've decided to play fair and delete those unconscious sentences, even if they contribute to my overall word counts, and am currently sitting just above 15,000 words.

So, the expectation-setting. 50,000 words, the ultimate goal and what would launch me into the upper pantheon of WriMos is more daunting than anticipated and trying to accomplish that will just produce more negatively impacting anxiety. I've pulled back to striving for 30,000 words, a more reasonable endgame with just eight days to go, and more exciting a trial for the upcoming holiday weekend.

My story has begun to take shape, too. It's flattening out into chapters and sections, the characters have purpose and conflict, and the vignettes tying the central plot together seem relevant and interesting to the themes of family, upbringing and identity I'm exploring with this novel. So bring on Turkey Day and I'll stuff myself full of words and motivation to push forward to my (revised) goal.