One-third of the way through the month, and that wasn’t so bad, was it? Only six more days until a bonafide habit has been established. So the work is all for something, awesome. But it’s Day 10, so that means we’re well into the weeds of this project, and if the manuscript draft is a third of the way through, we’re at or nearing a transition. Exposition is over, and we’re in the meat of the story. For me, that means I’m focusing on scene work. Read More…
If there’s a moment when the realization that everything one has been writing sounds hollow, forced, and insipid, this is it. This is optimal burn-the-paper-and-run time. The Let’s Pretend This Never Happened, that’s what this is for many people. But as I carefully considered my story line before November began, thinking about what would be a familiar yet novel idea, generating likable characters and figuring out transitions and the mechanics of the arcs, I shouldn’t back away now. No, it’s not because I’m more than 50 pages into the thing. It’s because when I had my wits about me on October 17, I knew there was a good book here, and I just need to trust myself. Read More…
I’ll just put it right out there: this could be one of the toughest days of 
NaNoWriMo. For the whole month. I’ve been squeezing in my writing time, getting attached to my story and characters, and I’m just about to hit 10,000 words and now, what? Now I have a weekend day. A Saturday of amazing proportions and I could do all kinds of things like go to the market, visit with friends, anything and everything and yet, it’s still NaNoWriMo. This is the day that I could pat myself on the back for making excellent progress, and break all of my good habits. And I shouldn’t let that happen. Read More…
Today I’m focusing on character. I mean, I’m writing writing writing and trying to bang through as many words as I can, especially as my productivity was down a bit yesterday. I’m still ahead for the 4-day mark of NaNoWriMo, so all is well. Day 5 reminds me that this is a marathon, not a sprint, and if I’m a little above average one day, then I shouldn’t sweat it when I make less than stellar progress on another day. It will all even out by the end of the month. Read More…
Three days of writing accomplished and I’m at 6,500 words. In a typical writing project I wouldn’t be concerned about the number, but at three days in, I would start examining what I’d written for pacing. On the 25th page, is it still interesting? Here’s the text just before I left off last night: Read More…
I know, I said yesterday that reviewing one’s previous day’s progress was a good thing. And I stand by that. But that was in the context of getting back in the writing groove, hanging on to the tone and set up so that transitions will come easier when November is over and the work of rewriting begins.
Other than the urge to start rewriting, there is one other clump of weeds that threatens to ensnare the intrepid writer when looking at past sections of text: the realization of plot creep. For example, there are two entire paragraphs that I didn’t intend sitting in the middle of yesterday’s words, smug and defiant, knowing they have at least another 28 days to zombify—I mean, to remain in the text. And perhaps by then I’ll have bolstered them with other related sections and then they’re as good as carved in marble. They are a crafty couple of paragraphs, and maybe they’ve started plotting my demise. Anything is possible. Read More…
Whether I feel like I’m cruising through a bit of writing or struggling against it, I’m always more soaked into the story at the end of one working block than when I sit down the next time. This is mostly okay, in that each new stint at the keyboard brings in some freshness and more opportunity for the ideas and characters in my head to steep in my subconscious a little more. And yet, though there are those positives, I still feel a pull to go back to what I wrote the day before to steep myself in the tale all over again. It’s difficult to do this without rewriting things at least a little bit. Read More…
It’s All Saints Day and this was the best day to be a Catholic school kid, because it’s a holy day of obligation, so I for one enjoyed the day off from classes, especially as it meant some quality time with my candy bowl. It seems fitting, then, that I began my month-long quest with a snack-sized Almond Joy and Nestle Crunch bar. Instead of going for the standard 50,000-word mark this year, I’m shooting for 60,000 words. Fingers crossed! Read More…
I’m gearing up to write a novel for National Novel Writing Month this year—for 2010 I plan to write a young adult speculative fiction story that will have LGBT themes and some homages to the 1970s, adventure tales, and classic time travel sci fi—so I had to put together my “to do” list before All Saints Day rolled around. For this novel, named PARALLAX, my list looks like this, in no particular order: Read More…
This is an excerpt of the novel I’ll be drafting this November as part of NaNoWriMo—National Novel Writing Month. Just a teaser. I may post excerpts on this blog from time to time as I make my way through.
One itchy elbow, right foot falling into a pins-and-needles sensation, and the slight stress from wondering if the glob of putty above my left eye was going to run down my forehead: this was the sum of my bodily annoyances. I tried to see the clock on the wall ahead of me, but with my glasses off I needed to squint to read the hands. Hopefully I was near the end of this test.
I heard a metal click but knew not to move in response to it.
“How are you doing, hon,” asked Cindy, the lab technician. That must mean it was okay to move my jaw to answer her.
“I’m okay. Itchy, and I think my right foot’s asleep.”
“Go ahead and scratch if it’s not your head, and shake your foot a little.”
I hadn’t moved more than two millimeters and the seismograph thing set up next to me went wild, scratching out thick, dark lines on the paper. Well, I presumed that’s what it was doing. I didn’t need to look at it to know what my brainwaves looked like. I scratched my elbow through my shirt, but that wasn’t good enough. I couldn’t dig under my sleeve without upsetting the wires. I pounded my foot on the floor, trying to get it startled enough to wake up. Without thinking, I reached up to stop the glop on my head from getting in my eyes. I knew better than to touch anything other than the tip of my nose, but once I’d started moving itches popped up everywhere, and I forgot myself. Read More…
Trans/plant/portation 