A Terrible, Horrible, Splotch

This is it, people: the worst inkblot on the face of the planet. Jason and Destiny don't really look like that, and neither would Jason let Destiny dangle helplessly as he flies to save the world like superman. Moreover, the ground is not imprinted with badly erased outlines of various Storyland characters. It is also all too obvious that I got a little too enthusiastic using my water-soluble graphite pencils!

Glorious, glorious suckage. :-D

Bring it, Rorschach.


Belated, Beloved, Besotted, Besplattered.

Point 1. Only the first word of the title is actually relevant to this post. The rest are just there for alliterative purposes. But on that head, here's what's been going on these past few weeks:

Plot outlining continues. You'd think I'd be done by now, but I hit Plotter's Block for most of the time. I'm trying now to figure out what the conflicts are for each character. Just the sheer pandemonium that will break out as they all step on each others' feet to get what they want should create some sort of plot.

Point 2. I know I said I'd put up sketches. I had created a few more sketches of characters to put up here, but they turned out to be dismal. Who knows when I'll do more?

Point 3. Randomly, I decided that I am going to up the ante on the NaNo challenge. One, I will not allow myself to count deleted words, or to write endless 7k word scenes. Each 2k (approximately) must move the plot forward. The point is to have a finished story at the end, and not just an endless beginning. Two, I am going to do two NaNos! That's right, I'm aiming for 100k of completed story goodness! For NaNo 1, under bobo_the_bard, I am doing Storyland. For NaNo 2, under Agent Double Oh Zero, I am doing a science fiction story about a cybernetic raven who is enslaved by time-traveling aliens and who, during his travels, learns to question the meaning of true freedom.

All this, and I'm supposed to be working on my thesis as well. I am arguably insane. But madness adds a strange spice to life, doesn't it? That's what writing is. You shut yourself up, you face parts of yourself you would rather not face in order to evoke tragedy or comedy, you drive yourself insane listening to the voices in your head as they tell your what they want, and you turn yourself into the only socially acceptable form of schizophrenic, and thus you learn how ordinary people work. You can never truly appreciate the symmetry of a sane world without taking a walk on the other side of the mind.