Because it ain't over till she sings -- and boy, is she singing. President Obama won both the electoral college and the popular vote, though leading the latter by a hairline margin of a million votes. Talk about close. Still, after a long evening of being glued to the TV, closely following the results of the election with the rest of the nation, I am relieved. Now I don't have to move to Canada for the next four to eight years.
Since I am in the eastern time zone, it was the middle of the night before the results came out, and all the speeches got over. And, of course, Florida is the only state still counting! Why am I not surprised? I think at this point everyone just dropped down from a combination of exhaustion and lack of alcohol.
Anyway. NaNo.
I am STILL behind. Of course, it is really hard to write in the midst of all the excitement, but I think today of all days was a valid excuse. Currently, my word count stands at 9000. Tomorrow, I will have to write 2667 words in order to catch up. Then, after that, I will have to write either 3000 words a day for two days, or 2500 words a day for four days, and catch up with my original goal. After that, it would be back to 2000 words a day.
The biggest challenge I'm facing is the voice dictation. When I type, my ideas flow better. Also, the prose is a lot better, and I find it easy to quickly generate a lot of words and flesh things out. When I use my voice I have to get over the severe mental block I have. Everything comes out much more stilted and awkward than it would have with typing, and it takes me four times as long to write the same material, and that material gives me fewer words. However, I have no choice. Between looking like an idiot talking to myself and writing stuff that is a lot crappier and shorter than it would otherwise have been, and completely busting my hands, I will choose looking like an idiot. Eventually, I think it will settle down, and I will learn how to write by talking also. After all, I learned to type on a Dvorak keyboard. That learning curve was much worse! It is just a matter of teaching the Muse how to work both ways.
Alright. I cannot stay awake any longer. Now I must crash…
11.06.2012
NaNoMongering 6: " " - The Existential Title
NaNoWriMo, NaNoWriMo
I used to have a life you know.
Now I'm in wrimo hell you see,
With a laptop on my knee.
I am really sleepy, so this will be a short entry.
I wrote slightly more than 2000 words today, bringing my grand total for this month to 7400 words. This means that I am still behind, but I should be caught up at least to the NaNo goal of 10,000 tomorrow (Day 6), if I write 2600 words. Then I can get back to my original goal of finishing 60,000 words in a month. Yes, the NaNo goal is only 50,000, but I really need to finish this story by the end of the year. In any case, I found that after getting used to writing 1667 words per day, doing 2000 is really not that much harder. Plus, my OCD self likes the round number better.
Let's just hope my hands cooperate. I make no progress with dictation.
I used to have a life you know.
Now I'm in wrimo hell you see,
With a laptop on my knee.
I am really sleepy, so this will be a short entry.
I wrote slightly more than 2000 words today, bringing my grand total for this month to 7400 words. This means that I am still behind, but I should be caught up at least to the NaNo goal of 10,000 tomorrow (Day 6), if I write 2600 words. Then I can get back to my original goal of finishing 60,000 words in a month. Yes, the NaNo goal is only 50,000, but I really need to finish this story by the end of the year. In any case, I found that after getting used to writing 1667 words per day, doing 2000 is really not that much harder. Plus, my OCD self likes the round number better.
Let's just hope my hands cooperate. I make no progress with dictation.
11.05.2012
NaNoMongering 5 - It All Started When, Or, The Reading List
Guess what made me want to write? That's right, reading. In school, I was the quiet, shy girl who usually sat by herself, and always had a book. I've been a bookworm all my life. My favorite genres are science fiction and fantasy, but I do occasionally read other stuff. I usually read three or four books at the same time, sometimes even more. Most of the time, there is one fluff book that I'll finish very fast, one 'regular' book (usually a science fiction/fantasy novel), and then one that's taking time for whatever reason (long/complicated/ponderous/outside my comfort zone).
That said, I have lately been neglecting this favorite pasttime. Bad writer. Bad. So: in an attempt to guilt myself into getting into gear, I am posting my reading list.
Currently Reading:
Here is where I hang my head in shame. The reason this list is so long is that three of these books are ones which I started a long time ago, and never finished. One of them was a reread. Hurr durr. Now I get to finish ALL of them before I start anything else!
Once I clean out my bookshelf, I'm chasing out the tumbleweed on my Goodreads account. I don't particularly need it as motivation, but the smartphone app has a handy little feature that lets me scan in a book's bar code, and thus automatically add it to my collection. It's a pretty neat way to easily track them...and if I actually muster up the patience to do this, no more racking my brains at the book store to see whether I already bought something!
...And there is a reason that the word NaNoMongering is in the title, isn't there. Well, end of Day 4. Word count total is 5,767, which means I am now 900 words behind.
That said, I have lately been neglecting this favorite pasttime. Bad writer. Bad. So: in an attempt to guilt myself into getting into gear, I am posting my reading list.
Currently Reading:
- The Hidden Reality by Brian Greene (Nonfiction/Physics)
- False Colours by Georgette Heyer (Romance)
- The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman (Fantasy)
- No Plot? No Problem! By Chris Baty (Nonfiction)
- Lord Of The Rings: The Two Towers by J.R.R. Tolkien (Fantasy)
- Ringworld by Larry Niven (Science Fiction)
Here is where I hang my head in shame. The reason this list is so long is that three of these books are ones which I started a long time ago, and never finished. One of them was a reread. Hurr durr. Now I get to finish ALL of them before I start anything else!
I've lately acquired a TON of books, and my bookshelf is a godawful giant messy book pile. It's gotten so bad that I sometimes am at the bookstore and can't remember if I bought a particular book already or not! RED ALERT. Given that I'm the neurotic type who must group everything by awesomeness, by genre, by author, by size, by whether I've read it or not, and by cover style, this chaos is making my inner librarian (who is also my Inner Editor, Frankie) acutely uncomfortable. Oh, and don't even mention all the horizontal books. A book placed horizontally on a bookshelf is an unforgivable offense.
It's worse than a misused semicolon; Q.E.D.
...And there is a reason that the word NaNoMongering is in the title, isn't there. Well, end of Day 4. Word count total is 5,767, which means I am now 900 words behind.
11.03.2012
NaNoMongering 4 - Of Shoes and Shit and Sabotage, and Carpal Tunnel Things
These slippers are so comfortable, like bunnies made of bubbles on my feet.
And that's it for shoes.
They say, No Pain, No Gain. In fact, it was no gain, all pain. I had meant to hit 6000 words today, but my hands are acting up again, and I cannot type. They do not hurt exactly, but I just know that I cannot push it. I have mostly been staying off the forums because of this. For the rest, I have just been dictating on my phone. I managed to do about 500 words today that way. This brings my word count for November up to 5000. I suppose I can't really complain, since that is where I am supposed to be at the end of Day 3 anyway.
However, my hands are not the root of the issue, nor even the fact that I feel intensely self-conscious speaking the words out loud. Those are all things I can defeat. The real issue is dithering. That is what I spent all day doing. I dithered in the afternoon by reading a book. Then I sat at the computer and stared at the screen. Then I got up, and made myself a sandwich. And then I ate the sandwich, and had to put off writing, because I could not speak and eat at the same time. Then I paused, stared at the screen again, and made myself some tea. Finally, I managed to eke out a few words, although even then, I kept switching to my Internet browser every few seconds, to refresh every single forum I am on. A few minutes later, I had to leave. In this way, I managed to somehow go the whole day by neither doing other things to entertain myself, nor getting any writing done. At best, it is inefficient. At worst, it is self-sabotage.
This happens, in some form or the other, every day.
Time and time again, I have reasoned it out. Either I must write, or I must do something else instead to keep busy, and not worry about it. It sounds simple, in theory. But it is not.
Why do I do this to myself? What is holding me back?
It is not the blank page. I do not actually fear the blank page. I used to, at one time, but I conquered that by simply flying by the seat of my pants. Now I can fill a blank page with anything. This might be my answer.
The blank page could be ANYTHING.
More often than not, it is utter crap, and it scares me. And how is that? Because one crappy page is not so bad. However, an entire draft's worth of crap is daunting. The story is still in there, waiting to meet excavated like fossil. However, the worse the draft, the more complicated the fix. Plot holes are not always easy to resolve, not to mention the innumerable stylistic changes that will need to be made, the scenes that have to be moved around, the things that must be cut, the things that must be added, the things that must be rewritten.
So, do I fear hard work? In a way, yes. Excavating the fossil is a long, hard road. Progress will be slow, and halting. There will be times when I wonder I am moving forward all, or if I am even moving backwards. How do I know that at the end of the road, I will find what I'm looking for?
And that's it. I fear failure. I am so afraid that I will never finish, that I feel like giving up at every step. I am afraid that I am doing all of this for nothing. In short, I am doing my very best to ensure that what I fear will come true.
I sabotage myself.
Well, shit.
Yet, much as I would love to know for sure that the story will be what I want it to be in the end, the truth is, the only way I will ever know is to see it through. Sounds like it's time to head back to the Chasm of Despair.
And here is where it gets nuts. Even in the deepest, darkest chamber of the chasm, I haven't lost all hope. There is still the insane part of me that tells me that I can do it. It is the part that made me start doing these writing competitions in the first place, and the part that makes me want to write at all. It is the part that will not let the story inside of me die unborn, but instead keeps prompting me to go sit at that computer.
It's my Muse, and she has spoken. It is up to me to do the rest. Where there is a will there is a way. I know that once I open up Scrivener, I can stare at the screen, and then fly off to Google, to look for motivational websites and pictures. However, that kind of motivation is a crock: at best the truth, at worst, entertainment, and in all cases procrastination. It can make me think. It can even inspire me. It can't give me will, though. The truth is, nothing can make it easier. Nothing on the Internet can finish my stories for me.
Only I can do that.
One word of time.
And I will.
And that's it for shoes.
They say, No Pain, No Gain. In fact, it was no gain, all pain. I had meant to hit 6000 words today, but my hands are acting up again, and I cannot type. They do not hurt exactly, but I just know that I cannot push it. I have mostly been staying off the forums because of this. For the rest, I have just been dictating on my phone. I managed to do about 500 words today that way. This brings my word count for November up to 5000. I suppose I can't really complain, since that is where I am supposed to be at the end of Day 3 anyway.
However, my hands are not the root of the issue, nor even the fact that I feel intensely self-conscious speaking the words out loud. Those are all things I can defeat. The real issue is dithering. That is what I spent all day doing. I dithered in the afternoon by reading a book. Then I sat at the computer and stared at the screen. Then I got up, and made myself a sandwich. And then I ate the sandwich, and had to put off writing, because I could not speak and eat at the same time. Then I paused, stared at the screen again, and made myself some tea. Finally, I managed to eke out a few words, although even then, I kept switching to my Internet browser every few seconds, to refresh every single forum I am on. A few minutes later, I had to leave. In this way, I managed to somehow go the whole day by neither doing other things to entertain myself, nor getting any writing done. At best, it is inefficient. At worst, it is self-sabotage.
This happens, in some form or the other, every day.
Time and time again, I have reasoned it out. Either I must write, or I must do something else instead to keep busy, and not worry about it. It sounds simple, in theory. But it is not.
Why do I do this to myself? What is holding me back?
It is not the blank page. I do not actually fear the blank page. I used to, at one time, but I conquered that by simply flying by the seat of my pants. Now I can fill a blank page with anything. This might be my answer.
The blank page could be ANYTHING.
More often than not, it is utter crap, and it scares me. And how is that? Because one crappy page is not so bad. However, an entire draft's worth of crap is daunting. The story is still in there, waiting to meet excavated like fossil. However, the worse the draft, the more complicated the fix. Plot holes are not always easy to resolve, not to mention the innumerable stylistic changes that will need to be made, the scenes that have to be moved around, the things that must be cut, the things that must be added, the things that must be rewritten.
So, do I fear hard work? In a way, yes. Excavating the fossil is a long, hard road. Progress will be slow, and halting. There will be times when I wonder I am moving forward all, or if I am even moving backwards. How do I know that at the end of the road, I will find what I'm looking for?
And that's it. I fear failure. I am so afraid that I will never finish, that I feel like giving up at every step. I am afraid that I am doing all of this for nothing. In short, I am doing my very best to ensure that what I fear will come true.
I sabotage myself.
Well, shit.
Yet, much as I would love to know for sure that the story will be what I want it to be in the end, the truth is, the only way I will ever know is to see it through. Sounds like it's time to head back to the Chasm of Despair.
And here is where it gets nuts. Even in the deepest, darkest chamber of the chasm, I haven't lost all hope. There is still the insane part of me that tells me that I can do it. It is the part that made me start doing these writing competitions in the first place, and the part that makes me want to write at all. It is the part that will not let the story inside of me die unborn, but instead keeps prompting me to go sit at that computer.
It's my Muse, and she has spoken. It is up to me to do the rest. Where there is a will there is a way. I know that once I open up Scrivener, I can stare at the screen, and then fly off to Google, to look for motivational websites and pictures. However, that kind of motivation is a crock: at best the truth, at worst, entertainment, and in all cases procrastination. It can make me think. It can even inspire me. It can't give me will, though. The truth is, nothing can make it easier. Nothing on the Internet can finish my stories for me.
Only I can do that.
One word of time.
And I will.
NaNoMongering 3: A Ray of Light in the Chasm of Despair
End Day 2. Currently, I am at 4,030 words.
A small measure of progress. I think I have finally figured out what Dark Arcana means. I found myself using the words "dark" and "arcane" to describe the use of magic and technology, which, currently, all the citizens of Engleter fear. In fact, it's the job of the Lord Protector to guard against it.
I found out that Dark Arcana refers to any knowledge which people fear, and which they would almost prefer not to know. At first, it refers just to magic and technology, but later, to knowledge of the ways of other "alien" cultures, and finally, to the big unanswerable questions in life, the answers to which are in the "dark," so to speak.
I also found out that my opening scene totally fails. I am going according to the "Hunger Games" opener rules I saw in this blog post. I shall paraphrase.
1. Show what your character cares most about, by showing them overcoming an obstacle because they care.
2. Threaten to take away the thing the character cares about, and thus pitch them into the story.
Yeah, I did neither. It's like Oscar is really hard to write about, and I feel like I have to ease myself into his story by circling around him through other characters. The first scene is really about Mrs. Penicott, the mistress of the ramshackle orphanage where Oscar grew up...and whom we will probably never see again! I know that fantasy epics (to which my story is most similar) tend to take their time about these rules, but this is pushing it.
Oh yes, and twelve year old Oscar is pretending to be a necromancer, just because he can, to scare people. Then he goes and stuffs his face with too many peppermints. One minute he's tiny Lord Voldemort, and the next, he's a scared little kid who wants to go to the circus with his taxi fare.
That's all I know. For all my 4k words, I've spent precious little time actually inside Oscar's head. It's all been Mrs. Penicott. It's like every time there is someone else in the room, I just write entire scenes of dialogue from their POV, and avoid having them DO anything, and avoid Oscar's POV. I need to work on having more action in between the dialogue, and showing where the story is taking place, so that not everyone is a talking head in a void. Oh, and I should probably write ABOUT Oscar at some point.
The worst it can do is to give me more words, after all. :-)
Listening To:
A small measure of progress. I think I have finally figured out what Dark Arcana means. I found myself using the words "dark" and "arcane" to describe the use of magic and technology, which, currently, all the citizens of Engleter fear. In fact, it's the job of the Lord Protector to guard against it.
I found out that Dark Arcana refers to any knowledge which people fear, and which they would almost prefer not to know. At first, it refers just to magic and technology, but later, to knowledge of the ways of other "alien" cultures, and finally, to the big unanswerable questions in life, the answers to which are in the "dark," so to speak.
I also found out that my opening scene totally fails. I am going according to the "Hunger Games" opener rules I saw in this blog post. I shall paraphrase.
1. Show what your character cares most about, by showing them overcoming an obstacle because they care.
2. Threaten to take away the thing the character cares about, and thus pitch them into the story.
Yeah, I did neither. It's like Oscar is really hard to write about, and I feel like I have to ease myself into his story by circling around him through other characters. The first scene is really about Mrs. Penicott, the mistress of the ramshackle orphanage where Oscar grew up...and whom we will probably never see again! I know that fantasy epics (to which my story is most similar) tend to take their time about these rules, but this is pushing it.
Oh yes, and twelve year old Oscar is pretending to be a necromancer, just because he can, to scare people. Then he goes and stuffs his face with too many peppermints. One minute he's tiny Lord Voldemort, and the next, he's a scared little kid who wants to go to the circus with his taxi fare.
That's all I know. For all my 4k words, I've spent precious little time actually inside Oscar's head. It's all been Mrs. Penicott. It's like every time there is someone else in the room, I just write entire scenes of dialogue from their POV, and avoid having them DO anything, and avoid Oscar's POV. I need to work on having more action in between the dialogue, and showing where the story is taking place, so that not everyone is a talking head in a void. Oh, and I should probably write ABOUT Oscar at some point.
The worst it can do is to give me more words, after all. :-)
Listening To:
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| Dear Agony by Breaking Benjamin |
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| Theatre Is Evil by Amanda Palmer |
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| No World Order by Gamma Ray |
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| This Type of Thinking (Could Do Us In) by Chevelle |
11.02.2012
NaNoMongering 2: It's All Downhill From Here
Story Status:
This just in, straight from the Chasm of Despair!
| From the Mouths of Morons, Part I: Me: "You don't wait for the words to come. You just have to force them out one by one." Sister: "Just like poop." Brother: "That's why you sometimes write shit." |
Sage words, and appropriate. Sorry for calling you morons on the internet, brother and sister. I sacrifice your intelligence in the name of alliteration.
In that vein, I tried to tell my sister what Dark Arcana was about. This was the result:
| "Um, it's...character driven. Uh. So there's Oscar, who is a boy with the ability to manipulate reality with his dreams. I mean, he has no control over it. He dreams it and it turns real. And he can't control it, so his nightmares turn real too. And there's Ethan. He's a scientist. He's a genius. And...well, okay, first, there's this time agency that watches over history. And Ethan finds them, so because he found them, they try to recruit him. Except Ethan doesn't believe in destinies and prophecies, so he's all "...No." Then there are these aliens that keep messing with history. The time agency and the aliens are in a time war. Uh." |
Major fail. Yeah, there's a third moron in the room also.
I didn't know what my own story was about. All the happiness I felt at finally having a synopsis done just drained away like warm deflated soda trickling down a rusty drain. It means that the only thing holding my plot together is some time war that takes place outside the universe. I have nothing actually happening in the world itself.
This manifests as talking heads: either people are having trippy dreams with no transition between them and reality, or they're just having conversations.
Everything is virtual.
There is no action.
There is no sense of place.
This is why I'm trying to stuff in all this political stuff with all the different plot lines, even though I have no idea how it will work. My bunny cries out for some foundations.
Aaaargh!
Don't get me wrong. I will figure out what this story is about eventually. I am going to take the shitty road, and force it out one word at a time. Just expect a lot of ranting and raving this month. I finished my 1,667 words for the day. I know what is supposed to happen, but not much of it turned out that way.
In the meantime, let's just say that the Chasm of Despair knows me so well that they have a cave with my name on it.
Nice to see you again, fellas. The usual.
Listening To:
| Warp Riders by The Sword | Across The Dark by Insomnium |
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| By The Light of The Northern Star by Tyr | Darkness in the Light by Unearth |
|
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| Van Halen by Van Halen | 1984 by Van Halen |
|
 |
| From the Mouths of Morons, Part II: Me: *starry eyed* "So Stephen King writes 2,000 words a day. Every day. He said-- what's so funny?" Sister: *is trying not to laugh* "I'm still thinking about poop. And I know he's thinking about poop." Brother: *nods* Sister: "So while you're talking, we're having a telepathic conversation about poop." |
11.01.2012
NaNoMongering 1: This Novel Will Self-Destruct In...
Story: Dark Arcana: The Amber of Time
Word Count: 1,122 words.
Listening To:
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| Apocryphon by The Sword |
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| Dethalbum III by Dethklok |
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| Epica by Kamelot |
Status:
This moment in time is best summarized by a whale who made friends with the ground and a bowl of petunias which said, Oh no. Not again!
I have so far written a thousand completely trippy words about Oscar's imminent birth, from the point of view of his teenage mother. Too many spoilers? Ehh, if it makes up for it at all, I still have no idea who Oscar's father is.
I have so far written a thousand completely trippy words about Oscar's imminent birth, from the point of view of his teenage mother. Too many spoilers? Ehh, if it makes up for it at all, I still have no idea who Oscar's father is.
The fact is, I have no idea what I'm doing. I have a million notes scattered all over the place regarding motivations, conflicts, philosophy, and worldbuilding...but still, this is a load of crap. What's a plan worth, after all? What I have is too loose, and meandering. It takes place in a void. Where the hell IS this street? What else is going on in the background? I don't know. For a pantser who's supposed to make all of this stuff up at the last minute, I sure am horrible at it.
I am just trying to remember to write, and not make notes on the side about where it could go.
If I don't write it now, it will never get written.
I know I will never go back and actually write notes that I've planned. It doesn't work that way. That way sucks out all the magic, and leaves only drudgery. When I write, I keep starting scenes, and bits of scenes, and then leaving that line of thought when I get stuck. If there's one thing I'm bloody fantastic at, it's writing long, pointless, meandering scenes that never resolve anything.
Well, when rereading, it was really irritating. I wanted to strangle my earlier self. I wanted to see where I was going with it!
Well, when rereading, it was really irritating. I wanted to strangle my earlier self. I wanted to see where I was going with it!
So, this time, my practice will be:
No notes. Just write.
It's just me, and the heartbeat of the keyboard.
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Psst. The bowl of petunias is right.
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