I was able to do an astronomical amount of writing
and I was finally able to finish my novel.
My first ever.
Happy happy Thanksgiving!!!
Showing posts with label NaNoWriMo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label NaNoWriMo. Show all posts
Winding Down
I've been noticing something strange. When I write fiction, I don't mind interruptions as much. It seems like a story will go like white water rapids for a time and then you hit a deadzone. I try changing things for about half an hour. IN the back of my mind is a little voice saying, maybe something will happen and I'll use it for my story.
Strangely, I've hit 38,000 words with this one. I wasn't sure how it would flesh out. It's a way to go and I think it could be next year's Kairos Prize entry.
I find writing fiction very different becauseI'm a bottom-liner. I think that's why scripts work for me. You have to present the most information in the fewest words.
Fiction is almost opposite. I'm not sure if NaNo has a screenwriting genre available. But I would have done best there. At anyrate...if I decide to pursue this as a novel, it's got great bones to work with. I'm hoping to write 10K words in the next few days and be a winner by the time the Turkey goes in the oven.
One of my brothers is coming for dinner. I can't wait! ( I bet there will be stuff I can use in the next story...wink wink!)
Strangely, I've hit 38,000 words with this one. I wasn't sure how it would flesh out. It's a way to go and I think it could be next year's Kairos Prize entry.
I find writing fiction very different becauseI'm a bottom-liner. I think that's why scripts work for me. You have to present the most information in the fewest words.
Fiction is almost opposite. I'm not sure if NaNo has a screenwriting genre available. But I would have done best there. At anyrate...if I decide to pursue this as a novel, it's got great bones to work with. I'm hoping to write 10K words in the next few days and be a winner by the time the Turkey goes in the oven.
One of my brothers is coming for dinner. I can't wait! ( I bet there will be stuff I can use in the next story...wink wink!)
The Road Less Traveled
I get emails from the NaNo forums everyday. I am truly amazed at how much whining and procrastinating goes on when people have a goal. Maybe the reason writing is such a solitary practice is because people can't stand to listen to us...
I have found it pretty empowering to drink tea all day and write until I run out of ideas. Then I get on the elliptical, watch a movie while I do it and come back to the story refreshed and with a brain sparked up on endorphins. Woo! talk about a buzz!
"I know it feels like you have all these options
and when you make a decision, you lose a world of possibilities.
But the reality is, until you make a decision,
you have nothing at all."
as told to Janet Fitch by her therapist
Distinguishing Traits
Drinking without being thirsty
and making love at any time, Madame,
are the only things that distinguish us
from other animals.
~Beaumarchis
~Beaumarchis
Idea Makers
While writing my story for NaNoWriMo I find inspirations wherever I can. I went out Friday night to listen to a band at the local coffee house for a few hours. The lead singer had a set of pipes on her that would make a pipe organ shudder!
A bouncer guards the entrances after ticket takers let ticket givers through the revolving gates. Around back of the concert venue, a few roadies are having cigarettes and beers.
A gang of girls in micro skirts and halter tops and far too much costume jewelry, attempt to crash the back stage door. The bouncers are as quick to deflect them as they are determined to get inside. Crescendo steps forward, speaking for the entourage because she explains it in her very best Cockney accented English.
“You have to understand, mate, we’re the Muse. They’re expecting us.”
“I can check that. What are your names?”
“That’s Melody, Harmony, Symphony, Lala, Rubato, Sforzando and I’m Crescendo.”
The concert guard looks at her in utter disbelief but disappears through a door. He returns moments later and waves them through. One of the girls hands the bouncer a camera.
“Will you take a click of us?” he agrees. “Girls look at the camera and say phallus!” The group of girls pauses and waits for the click. The shout the word, break into laughter and run inside.
A gang of girls in micro skirts and halter tops and far too much costume jewelry, attempt to crash the back stage door. The bouncers are as quick to deflect them as they are determined to get inside. Crescendo steps forward, speaking for the entourage because she explains it in her very best Cockney accented English.
“You have to understand, mate, we’re the Muse. They’re expecting us.”
“I can check that. What are your names?”
“That’s Melody, Harmony, Symphony, Lala, Rubato, Sforzando and I’m Crescendo.”
The concert guard looks at her in utter disbelief but disappears through a door. He returns moments later and waves them through. One of the girls hands the bouncer a camera.
“Will you take a click of us?” he agrees. “Girls look at the camera and say phallus!” The group of girls pauses and waits for the click. The shout the word, break into laughter and run inside.
...Lala turned around and saw a cop in his cruiser. Her heart sank. She’d had her fair share of run ins with cops. Some of them ran her off thinking her a prostitute or a bad element that had moved in. The cop put his vehicle in park and left it idling. He clicked out of his seatbelt and got out of his car.
“Yeah, is that a bad thing?”
The cop chuckled.
“I can tell by your tags that you’re not from around here…” he said walking all around the van. “So what are you doing here?”
“I just got a job here. I worked the lunch shift.”
“So you think you’ll be sticking around, then Miss--?”
“Parrish.”
He was fortyish with chiseled features. He stuck his thumbs in his waistband. After looking at the van he took a long look at Lala.
“Well, Ms. Parrish, I like the van. It looks like a labor of love.”
“You paint officer?”
“Officer Davis…When are you working here again?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Welcome to town, Ms. Parrish. See you tomorrow.” He sauntered off to his car, got in and drove away. Lala raised a brow wondering if she’d just become a target. And if so, of what?
“Yeah, is that a bad thing?”
The cop chuckled.
“I can tell by your tags that you’re not from around here…” he said walking all around the van. “So what are you doing here?”
“I just got a job here. I worked the lunch shift.”
“So you think you’ll be sticking around, then Miss--?”
“Parrish.”
He was fortyish with chiseled features. He stuck his thumbs in his waistband. After looking at the van he took a long look at Lala.
“Well, Ms. Parrish, I like the van. It looks like a labor of love.”
“You paint officer?”
“Officer Davis…When are you working here again?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Welcome to town, Ms. Parrish. See you tomorrow.” He sauntered off to his car, got in and drove away. Lala raised a brow wondering if she’d just become a target. And if so, of what?
Lala
Lala made a right turn onto mainstreet. Standing in front of the concert hall was Brodie the roadie. He sat on a drum case smoking a cigarette. He had greyed around the edges maybe gained ten pounds, but he looked much the same as he had the last time Lala had seen him. Only he wasn’t with the old group anymore. He was with Vegas Vertigo. .. 1822 and counting...
First Day of Nano
Lala awoke with her hair as fuzzy as her mind. The bandana was still there, slightly skewed. She felt her ears for the earrings...both still there. Good. The silver hearts had been a gift from her daughter.
When she strethed, the silky sheets slithered comfortably around her body, smelling of lavendar. The dull haze of dawn knocked softly at the windows and Lala didn't want to open her eyes.
Instead she played a game with herself. A game she'd played hundreds of times. The game was called, "Where Am I?" She tried to think how many years it had been since high school when she'd begun asking herself a series of questions. Thirty five? Forty? It always began the same:
"What's the last thing I remember?"
When she strethed, the silky sheets slithered comfortably around her body, smelling of lavendar. The dull haze of dawn knocked softly at the windows and Lala didn't want to open her eyes.
Instead she played a game with herself. A game she'd played hundreds of times. The game was called, "Where Am I?" She tried to think how many years it had been since high school when she'd begun asking herself a series of questions. Thirty five? Forty? It always began the same:
"What's the last thing I remember?"
NaNoWriMo
Hypergraphics of the world, unite!
I'm throwing my hat in the ring. I'm really going to do this.
It seems that the one thing I can do is write like a maniac. but if I do, I may let e-mails slide, I may not fix my gourmet meals, or even eat them...
(Although that pent up anticipation to start could be chanelled toward preparing a month's worth of meals...)
and I may not even answer my phone.
You've been warned! You've been notified! Yes, I will smile politely in conversation if you happen to catch me between chapters. All the while gleaning the moments for the story, and plotting the foundation, the character arc and the dialog - OH! the dialog.
I will, however, post excerpts from the story as I go. If something truly news worthy, or exciting pulls me from this enveloping, 50k word ride, then you will hear about it.
I will celebrate Thanksgiving. But I will not shop on Black friday.
That'a my plan. See you in the papers.
I'm happy to announce that I have finished my second screenplay. WHEW! And right on time! Starting Nov. 1 it's NaNoWriMo!!!
If you're interested, you still have a few days to clear your writing plate! Yeah, I can't believe it either, but after thinking about it for two years, I'm jumping in.
How about you? Are you the next National Best Seller? It's just under 2000 words a day...If I just channel all my talking to writing....
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