here i was, all excited cause every day i’ve been ahead of my word count for NaNoWriMo, and suddenly i’m behind! i ran out of steam. will have to work on that.
characters. i tell you.
so, almost twenty-thousand words into my novel, the main character decides that she wants to be a private detective. or rather, she’s trying to be one. also, she’s not just trying to write a great novel–she wants to write the best mystery series ever written. it wasn’t classic books that her great-aunt got her hooked on, it was mystery novels. i’m glad that we’re getting this all cleared up, but really sydney, couldn’t you have revealed this to me before?
that’s okay, though. i am going to continue the novel with this new premise, pretending that i’ve rewritten the beginning. i will actually rewrite the beginning after NaNoWriMo. i’m actually excited by this change because it has spawned new, fun, interesting characters. should be fun. did i say fun enough? fun, fun, fun.
fun.
miles and chuck
another writing prompt. i’ll probably try to do one of these every day. hopefully they will start to get better…
write a pure dialogue story. make your story move along by using dialogue only, no narration, no description.
“My good man, what exactly is that you’re holding?”
“You can see exactly what it is. And if you don’t shut up, I’m going to be forced to use it.”
“Cut my throat, will you? I’ll admit that that’s not an appealing option. Can we talk about this?”
“I told you to shut up. Do you think I won’t use it? I will, I’m not afriad to hurt you.”
“Oh yes, I believe that. I can tell by the glint in your eyes. I never knew what a glint in the eye really meant before, but I see now. I just wish that—okay, okay, I’ll shut up. No need to get rough.”
“I could just press a little harder and cut you. I could do that.”
“Indeed, you could.”
“Don’t make fun of me. I’m the one with the power here.”
“You are, sir, you are. I am not questioning that. I do wonder if you could remove your foot from mine; my big toe is being crushed.”
“I’ll crush your toe if I want. You’re a real stupid guy, you know that? You don’t tell the man with the knife what to do. You do what he wants, you say what he wants. And right now he wants you to sit down and stop talking. Stop talking, you hear me? I said, did you hear me?”
“I thought you wanted me stop talking.”
235 words.
apparently this is a english butler and his vicious captor? i named them miles and chuck.
in other news, NaNo is coming along. that’s it, it’s coming along. it is work, it’s hard, i have to push to stay ahead of my goal each day. i’m hoping to have 20,000 words sometime in the next few days. i really don’t know if i’ll want to do anything with this story when it’s done, but i’m trying very hard not to think about that. the point of this exercise is simply to write 50,000 words in november. they don’t have to be perfect or even remotely close to good. they just have to be written.
in other news, i’m considering writing another short novel in december. i was thinking 20,000-30,000 words. i thought it’d be fun to come up with a really silly plot with ridiculous characters and just have fun with it. but set a goal and work on reaching it. this’ll help me learn to finish things. so we’ll see.
will i ever make it home?
Been sort of stuck with my NaNo novel. I know what’s going to happen in the story (maybe that’s the problem?) but every time I sit down I write…I stare blankly at the screen. So I’m doing a writing prompt this morning to do something a little different, shake up my creative juices, etc. etc. This is completely unedited and I make no promises about it being any good. It’s just a prompt, after all!
300 words. words to use: principal, lunchbox, girl with a pink ribbon.
The girl with the pink ribbon in her hair, Mary Johnson, opened her lunch box and pulled out a container of sliced carrots and apples. She opened it, pulled a carrot slice out, and began to chew slowly. She focused on a spot on the table in front of her, ignoring the stares and whispers. She knew she looked ridiculous, with her ribbon and dress and makeup-less face. This was junior high, not kindergarten. She looked like a child and the thought made hot tears sting her eyes.
Her mother had been so excited when she’d presented her with the homemade dress.
“This way you’ll make an impression on your first day,” she said. “This’ll show everyone the kind of sweet girl you are.”
She’d considered bringing a change of clothes and changing in the bathroom, but why bother? It wouldn’t make a difference. Even if she wore jeans and a t-shirt and put her hair up in a messy ponytail, she’d still be the outcast. She always had been. That was not something that would ever change.
Mary saw the principal heading towards her; she ducked her head and chewed faster. This was not good. Principals didn’t talk to the kids at lunch, they just didn’t. Now everyone would know that he was dating her mother. And the teasing would start all over again.
Mr. Grimes slipped into the seat across from her and asked her how she was.
She shrugged, still looking away.
“Just let me know if you have any trouble, okay?”
Mary’s face felt hot; she knew it was bright red. She hated this.
Maybe, she thought, maybe I should cut my hair and dye it black and wear heavy eyeliner. I’ll cut class and be rude to teachers and then I’ll have some friends. Finally, I would have friends.
She almost smiled at the thought of her being rude to a teacher. She’d probably start crying afterwards and apologize profusely. This was who she was—that was unchangeable.
348 words.
And now, I’m going to work on my novel, even if I have to throw in pirates who have a penchant for stopping all the action to have a cup of tea. Yar!
post title song is “will i ever make it home” by ingram hill
it’s not meant to be a struggle
Here is an example of the writing that’s pouring out of me right now:
“She looked like a banana.”
Wow. What a description. I mock myself.
post title song is “voice in headphones” by mount eerie
i’ve seen mornings white as diamonds
I don’t write by hand; I write at the computer, and I have to say that there’s hardly anything more frightening than that blinking cursor. It mocks, it says, “Time to write something grand, something beautiful! Come on, what are you waiting for?” And then I look down. And I see twenty-six letters staring back at me, and I think, “This can’t be so hard. There’s only twenty-six of them, and they’re small. I’m bigger and smarter than them. They can’t do anything to me, but I can control them.” That’s all writing is, controlling the letters. Arranging them, word after word after word.
There’s a serious disadvantage to writing on the computer: the internet. Get stuck? Search the web for articles on writer’s block. Then click the related article on characterization. (“Exactly what I was going to work on next!”) So on and so forth until two hours have gone by, it’s lunchtime, and I feel like it’s all way too much work. Who am I to be an author anyway? Are books really that important? Do I really care enough to commit myself to this insanity?
Somehow, I do. It’s ridiculous, in a way, but I do care. Enough to write painfully bad sentences that are leading me through a plot I don’t understand and which might give me a terrible novel at the end of it all. First draft, first draft. That’s what I gotta remember. I can change all this. I can craft the slab of granite into a statue. But I have to get the granite out of the mountain first.
I can do this. (I will start writing less NaNoWriMo-centric posts when it’s over!)
post title song is “white as diamonds” by alena diane
am i dimmer every day? am i just a little glimmer?
NaNoWriMo 2009 has been, so far, more productive and exciting and confusing than I expected it to be.
Day 1: Played with the characters like they were dolls–”oh, now walk up those stairs! good, now talk! good!”–and rewrote the beginning about three times. Went to bed unsure.
Day 2: Woke up with a clear head, feeling motivated and energetic. Used Holly Lisle’s free Professional Plot Outline Mini-Course {link} and was shocked to discover that my story did have a real plot waiting inside it. Wrote about 7,000 words in one day.
Day 3: My villain sort of messed things up, by deciding that maybe he didn’t do this, and maybe he did do this, and then my MC jumped in and said, “Yeah, why am I doing this thing? Maybe I’d do that, or that.” Encountered a problem I’ve never had before: too many plot ideas, too many directions the story could go. And no idea which direction was the right one. Decided to sleep on it, everything would fix itself in the morning.
It’s currently 9:14am on Day 4 and I’m still not sure what’s going on. It’s the characters took my story for a joy ride and won’t tell me what time they’ll be home. So the plan is, write down all these different ideas I have for where the story could go…and see what happens. Maybe one will seem right, or not, or they’ll all be terrible and I’ll stick with my original idea. Either way, I’m hunting these characters down and forcing them to give me my story back, whether they like it or not.
I suppose I could stop planning and fretting and just continue what I had before, but wouldn’t it be terrible to have a 50,000 word novel that just felt, for the reader, like we turn a wrong turn somewhere and never bothered to turn around or ask for directions? I think I’d rather spend a little time now figuring this out (because I will figure it out, I know that) and have something at the end of the month that, no, will not be perfect, but at least won’t be untrue to the characters or situation.
post title is from the song “dimmer” by bishop allen
