Category Archives: NaNoWriMo

Nano 08, Day 29

nano_08_winner_large

It’s done. No eleventh hour finish, here. Remind me to get independently wealthy so I can spend three and a half hours writing whenever I want. Normally I take a great deal of pleasure in writing afterwords. It’s a little perk for novelists, so whenever I finish something substantial I indulge. But I can’t think of much to say about this one.

I’m proud of what I’ve got, but not for the usual reason. Normally I’d be exhausted from that much writing in one month, but I’ve been averaging 1100 words every day this year – so the added workload was actually negligible, which means this doesn’t feel so much like a Feat as it has in years past.

What I am proud of is evolution. On the previous “novels” (Yeah, I know 50k hardly counts, but humor me), I’d have a difficult time summing up the plot, because there was just so much of it. Three years ago, during my first Nano, I resorted to an absolutely byzantine plot. I remember explaining it in brief to a curious friend. It took about fifteen minutes, and by the end she still didn’t know what the hell I was talking about. By comparison, this book (title TBA) is difficult to sum up because it’s so simple: it’s about the life and death of a relationship. That’s it? Yeah, I’m happy to say. No shoehorned subplots, no cheap devices, and no reliance on all my old writing crutches.

And it only took me two tries to get it. Last year – the only year I’ve lost Nano – I had the same objectives going in as this year. I failed. Typically, the failure taught me something, maybe something as simple as: you weren’t ready. So I’ve been working harder, reading more, trying to do better. Word after word, until now I’ve got nearly a quarter of a million, all that to enable me to write this story.

If you know me, you know I’d kill to make a movie. I love the medium, and if I had ten million dollars laying around, I start buying cameras. But the reason I’m a writer and not a director is because I could never do it with other people. I’d hate to give up artistic control. Writing’s about as solitary an activity as it gets, and a tightly controlled one. It’s you and a word processor document. There’s nobody to tell you what you can and can’t do, and nobody to blame but yourself if something doesn’t work. It doesn’t permit excuses. So setting out to do something challenging, and to do it as well and as honestly as you can, and then finishing it? It feels good. Especially considering all the limitations in this world, all the people and institutions that say you can’t or you shouldn’t or just ask Why? It’s inertia (or ennui, if you like), and it’s worth struggling against, to do something that’s completely your own.

Though I’m moving through college, and there’s less people to wag their fingers at me, I’m still in the last slog of a long semester. I’ve got deadlines and demands on my time. But this – this was just for me.

Turns out I had an afterword in me, after all. Thanks very much for following along. Tomorrow I’ll be doing a post-mortem.

Words written today/total: 3072/50242
Pace: N/A

The End.

Nano 08, Day 28

I cannot WAIT to shave. Apparently the long awaited Guns and Roses album, Chinese Democracy, came out recently, and Chuck Klosterman reviewed it for the AV Club. In the spirit of long-thought-vaporware projects finally materializing, they ran down a list of other much discussed projects they’d like to see. Aside from personal causes like the next ASOIAF book, and Deadwood/AD movies, it was inspiring to think about all these ideas that never got off the ground. That’s when projects are at their most enticing, when you’ve just got the concept and your limitations and failings haven’t had a chance to taint it yet.  This lead to two hours of frenzied consideration of future endeavors, each one more extreme than the last. (I briefly considered reading the 100 Best Books of the 20th Century for 2009.) With this Nano wrapping up and my first full-length novel very near to completion, it’s fun and easy to dream about What’s Next. Of course, it’s only fun and easy because there’s no sweat involved in thinking. So I took awhile to grind out this night’s quota, and mostly grumbled my way through it.  I don’t care what the project is, it won’t be fun once you’re slogging through a desert stretch of it, with no inspiration and no interest. But, now that my nightly toils are thankfully at an end, I can go to bed and start thinking again. Maybe a serial novel…

Words written today/total: 1438/47170
Pace: +504

Owen felt like he could just fade, skin assuming an unearthly hue before slipping into translucence, his blueish organs pumping away busily as his flesh turned into clear jelly, and then a slide into invisibility, light refracting strangely through the dissolving body before he was finally gone, just a whisper on the wind.

Nano 08, Day 27

Apparently I have a quarterback motif in this book.  This is three scenes now where a football’s heaved in the air, and I have no idea why they’re in there. While this might just be proof that I’m a bumbler with no sense of artistic purpose, it mostly makes me think about how much meaning we construct when talking about literature, all the significance we assign to words spit out by a spontaneous unconscious. Really, any English class is just a course in meta-fiction, where everybody offers their own story about a particular story. I kind of like that idea, and then wondered when I stopped caring about Truth in Art.

I watched an episode of Family Guy for the first time in awhile, and it’s sad how thin on the ground the jokes are. If you watch an episode and count, there can’t be more than twenty, half of which are non sequiters that sometimes don’t work, the remainder mainly being fart jokes or something racist.  After you do all that, toss in a few musical numbers and lots of protracted slap-stick routines and you’re done. All this suggests McFarlane and co. are just milking it. I have no idea what brought on this Family Guy criticism.

I’m very close to bringing the story home, and it’s going to take a couple extra thousand to get it done. Yesterday was a “burn the whole thing and start over,” today was a “this is pretty easy.” The writing’s about the same.

Words written today/total: 1726/45732
Pace: +732

He imagined it would take some time to pack up an entire life. He was ready to leave in half an hour.

Nano 08, Day 26

The things I am thankful for this Thanksgiving:

  • That there’s only four more days left of this writing. Ctrl+A+Backspace seems awful tempting these days, and it’s taking upwards of three hours to finish.
  • Beds that don’t hurt my back (but do hurt my neck)
  • “Home cooked” meals, which translates to a steady diet of takeout since my parents abandoned the concept long ago.
  • A TV so big I couldn’t hug it even if I wanted to – and I do.
  • Dogs, since they don’t talk and doesn’t that make everything more likeable?

Words written today/total: 2137 (a record, I defiantly add)/44006
Pace: +673

“If you wanted to go home, you would have already.”

Nano 08, Day 25

Today, four months after I purchased it, I finished Gravity’s Rainbow. A mortal lock for the top three and a contender for best book of my year, sometimes I had to glance around my plane: was this allowed? Can you really write like that. I have no idea how to even think about the book, it’s so sprawling and dense.

Words written today/total: 1367/41869
Pace: +203

A swing teetered, creaking with the wind or the remembered motion of a thousand children.

Nano 08, Day 24

Eep.

Words written today/total: 771/40502
Pace: +502

His latest cruelty, to swing these sledgehammer words when Sophia was made of glass.

Nano 08, Day 23

Drowning in words, today. 1500 for a Roman History paper, 1705 for quota, and thousands more in the 64 pages of Of One Blood due for English class.  Then you factor in all the text seen and scrolled through over 2hrs45min of internet browsing (don’t worry, that’s mostly research time for the paper), and it seems like my whole world is words. Funny then, how small they seem when I step out into the blasting winds of this winter night and walk under a dome of stars. Why aren’t I majoring Forestry?

Words written today/total: 1705/39731
Pace: +1398

“Go to any fucking zoo in this country and you aren’t going to see monogamous polar bears, or some shit like that.”

Nano 08, Day 22

Back on the horse. It’s taking longer and longer to hit quota, from 1.5 hours all the way to 3 and change, but that’s fine, since I’m finished for the day.

Words written today/total: 1687/38,026
Pace: +1360

They sat across from the banker, a fussy professional with hand sanitizer on her desk alongside a small museum’s worth of pictures, most of them depicting her and her husband before various backgrounds: skiing, hiking, swimming. Outdoorsy couple, Owen thought as they walked through the details of the mortgage. What a terrible word, Old French for “dead pledge,” combining both mortality and binding contracts.

“I’m sorry,” he said, abandoning his etymology to interrogate the banker, “but thirty years?”
“Yes, sir. It’s pretty standard, these days.”

A thirty-year dead pledge. Jesus Christ.

Nano 08, Day 21

The hot streak is over. Due to sleep deprivation and time mismanagement, I began quota at 4 am. I ended it at 4:10. Terrible effort, and nothing I want to repeat.

Written today/total: 218/36339
Pace: +1339

Nano 08, Day 20

November’s winding down. I’ve got just 13k left, which means this story will go long. I wrote quota about a dog today – that shit is difficult to pull off properly. Usually dogs exist in stories to die and make you sad – I didn’t go that route, but it was kinda close, still Canis Tragicus if you follow me. Either way, to execute it without getting corny requires some skills I haven’t fully developed. You have to respect those writers who can pull off the sentimental stuff, that Where the Red Fern Grows type of gut stab.

The fact that I didn’t Old Yeller this dog is just one more bit of proof that my writing’s evolving. This (still untitled) story will probably be my first long piece that doesn’t feature:

  • A death
  • A fist fight
  • A wisecracking sidekick
  • fantastic elements

So here’s to the modern age. Also, I broke 200,000 words tonight, which is an extraordinary and immense number I’m immensely pleased with, and here’s to the next 200,000. Maybe I can hit half a million by the end of the year.

Written today/total: 1709/36121
Pace: +4455

“The kid was all right, you know. Hurt, yes, but not dead. He’d just be scarred. Who wasn’t? Later this would be a harrowing story from his childhood, the sort of thing related with three pints of beer in him to float him down the river of memory, back to the hazy day of sunlight and blood. Men would envy his scars, and women would pity them, one would find them grotesque and beautiful and, when the boy slept, she would lay alongside with cheek on hand to stare at them. He’d awaken, alerted by animal instinct that he was being watched, and regard her with the moonlight glazing his unblinking eyes. She’d smile and kiss his cheek, noting its corrugated feel beneath her lips, and whisper, “Go back to sleep. It’s nothing.”"