Word Count - 40111
Ah yes, lovely, lovely word count. 40111 words combined to make up over a hundred pages that will take me most of December to turn into something almost readable. I am SO PROUD! I just wrote a total piece of crap! LOL
I was back reading my blogs last night and I came to the one from just before NaNo started where I was talking about how I was going to take it slow and enjoy the ride. I have to admit a little kick in the gut over that one, but the truth is - even as I wrote it, in the back of my mind I pretty much knew it was bullshit.
I was that kid in kindergarten who rushed through making a Popsicle stick picture frame for Mothers Day because I wanted to be the first one done. It was lopsided, there was a ton of glitter on one side but not a single sparkle on the other, and the picture warped crookedly when it was slid inside. I didn't care, because I was the first done in my class and I knew my mom was going to love it no matter how lousy it was.
That's the great thing about NaNoWriMo, it is okay to make crap. The point isn't making something great, it is about making something, anything, so on December 1st we can say "Hey, I did it!"
I guess I am particularly pleased because to be honest, despite my bravado coming into this thing, I honestly didn't think I would make it this far. Life isn't being particularly kind and stress is a zapper for creativity. I almost scrapped the whole thing, I am so glad now that I didn't. These have been the best twelve days in a year that has been filled with stress, worry and disappointment. Crossing the finish line is going to be sweeter than it's ever been.
Last year I finished on November 12th, a year ago today. I won't be repeating that I am sure, but I am hoping to finish tomorrow. If I don't, that's okay too, because I am pretty sure that I will finish and that's more important than when. But even when I have achieved word 50,000, NaNo won't be over for me. I am going to keep going, maybe I can set a personal word record. I finished somewhere around 72k last year, I've plenty of time to beat that. Hell, maybe I'll even take on that damn plot bunny that's been playing in the grass on the other side.
The only thing I know for sure is that I am going to ride this thing until midnight November 30th, and then I am going to celebrate with Sushi.
And on December 1st, I'll start counting down to November 2012.
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Friday, November 11, 2011
Day Eleven - Freedom
Word Count 35530
I've been thinking about words this morning as I prepare to make my run towards 40k. Not in terms of numbers that I enter into the word count updater, but in terms of the words themselves.
I've always been a big fan of words. Since my early days I have known that words wield tremendous power, the power to hurt, the power to heal, the power to bring a smile and the power to bring a tear. A nations leader can use words to lie, like Bill Clinton's denial of his affair with Monica Lewinski, he can also use words to begin to heal the heart of a nation, like George Bush's inspirational speech at Ground Zero.
Saying the word "War" is innocuous - but put it together in a sentence and it is
A call to action. "We must go to WAR"
A protest "This WAR is wrong"
An expression of mourning. "He gave his life for this WAR"
And they, so many brave men and women, gave their lives so we could write the word WAR in any sentence, any form, in any way we choose. There are many countries where the things you write can get you killed and you can be imprisoned for the things you read. I wonder how many people know this, truly grasp the fact that right now there are people imprisoned for being caught with Bibles, and people in other countries dying for having written the wrong thing. So often in this country freedom of speech is a right that is horrifically abused. Flags are burned, funerals are picketed, and people use words to hurt others over the internet - these freedoms are protected. And yet- despite how much we despise seeing the right abused, we need to be thankful.
This is a freedom we should not - MUST not take for granted.
So this day I make a vow. With every word I write, every sentence, every page - I will remember those who died to give me the freedom to write what I choose. Then, when the time comes to update my word count tonight, I will pray for the men and women overseas who still fight for my freedom. Not just in Iraq and Afghanistan, but on every military installation representing every allied country in the world.
I invite you to join with me.
I've always been a big fan of words. Since my early days I have known that words wield tremendous power, the power to hurt, the power to heal, the power to bring a smile and the power to bring a tear. A nations leader can use words to lie, like Bill Clinton's denial of his affair with Monica Lewinski, he can also use words to begin to heal the heart of a nation, like George Bush's inspirational speech at Ground Zero.
Saying the word "War" is innocuous - but put it together in a sentence and it is
A call to action. "We must go to WAR"
A protest "This WAR is wrong"
An expression of mourning. "He gave his life for this WAR"
And they, so many brave men and women, gave their lives so we could write the word WAR in any sentence, any form, in any way we choose. There are many countries where the things you write can get you killed and you can be imprisoned for the things you read. I wonder how many people know this, truly grasp the fact that right now there are people imprisoned for being caught with Bibles, and people in other countries dying for having written the wrong thing. So often in this country freedom of speech is a right that is horrifically abused. Flags are burned, funerals are picketed, and people use words to hurt others over the internet - these freedoms are protected. And yet- despite how much we despise seeing the right abused, we need to be thankful.
This is a freedom we should not - MUST not take for granted.
So this day I make a vow. With every word I write, every sentence, every page - I will remember those who died to give me the freedom to write what I choose. Then, when the time comes to update my word count tonight, I will pray for the men and women overseas who still fight for my freedom. Not just in Iraq and Afghanistan, but on every military installation representing every allied country in the world.
I invite you to join with me.
"We often take for granted the very things that most deserve our gratitude." -Cyntha Ozick
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Day Ten - The Bunny Must Die
Word Count - 33696
I have reached that dreaded middle place, that spot in the middle of the month where I have realized that the grass is not just greener, but smells nicer, is thicker, more tasty, and definitely looks a lot more fun to play in on the other side.
How sick is that? 33696 words in, and I am longing to change my story. I am soooOOOOoooo totally fighting the urge to blame this on my lovely email pal/stalker who suggested to me last night that I start over. But the truth is, I have had this nasty little plot bunny that has been playing in my grass since just before NaNoWriMo started. He has been hopping around the edges, taunting me, teasing me, shaking his wrinkly little tail at me whilst screaming - Here I am BIOTCH, I DARE you to come and get me!
This Bunny must die. Like Elmer Fudd and Bugs Bunny, this has turned into an epic battle.
B.T.W. Can anyone tell me where I can mail order Acme dynamite?
I have reached that dreaded middle place, that spot in the middle of the month where I have realized that the grass is not just greener, but smells nicer, is thicker, more tasty, and definitely looks a lot more fun to play in on the other side.
How sick is that? 33696 words in, and I am longing to change my story. I am soooOOOOoooo totally fighting the urge to blame this on my lovely email pal/stalker who suggested to me last night that I start over. But the truth is, I have had this nasty little plot bunny that has been playing in my grass since just before NaNoWriMo started. He has been hopping around the edges, taunting me, teasing me, shaking his wrinkly little tail at me whilst screaming - Here I am BIOTCH, I DARE you to come and get me!
This Bunny must die. Like Elmer Fudd and Bugs Bunny, this has turned into an epic battle.
B.T.W. Can anyone tell me where I can mail order Acme dynamite?
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Day Nine - Unhappily Ever After
Word Count - 25025
First, I need to thanks Mark Means for the counter bar I found on his blog yesterday and then immediately appropriated for myself. I've been looking for one of these, and since the NaNo site doesn't seem to be in a hurry to get their widgets up and running - I am pretty thrilled to have something I can use until then! So, thanks Mark!
So here I am, a day short of a third of the way through the month and finally at the half-way point. I am trying really hard to not think about the fact that last year at this time I was three days away from finishing. Thoughts like that will just put me back into that deep dark hole that held me back a few days ago, and at last, I have finally found my groove. I know where my story is headed, how exactly it is going to end, and for the first time in my writing life, it isn't a particularly happy place.
This is pretty foreign territory for me, I write mostly romance and the happily ever after thing is pretty much a prerequisite for the genre. Maybe it is because I am still kind of pissed off at a couple rude fan-girls, but I feel a bit like staging a rebellion. My heroine is going to lose her baby - she will be stillborn, they will bury her and then she will leave my hero standing alone at her grave. For months, he will have no clue where she is, he will mourn alone and when my heroine returns, all he will get is an offer of friendship.
Of course, that isn't exactly unhappy. They will still be together, the reader will have the right to fantasize that maybe once the curtain falls and they get past their sadness they eventually end up together. It is the least that I can do - it is what I would want if it were me sitting on the other side of the monitor.
But when you sit mulling over an idea and you start to cry - you know you are dealing with something you have no choice but to run with. This could be pretty powerful stuff if I do it right. Maybe this is a little cruel, but my story is called The Fractured Fairy Tale after all. I'll probably be hunted, tarred and feathered for this one but I can't worry about that, the story has to come first.
Besides, the little shits have it coming.
First, I need to thanks Mark Means for the counter bar I found on his blog yesterday and then immediately appropriated for myself. I've been looking for one of these, and since the NaNo site doesn't seem to be in a hurry to get their widgets up and running - I am pretty thrilled to have something I can use until then! So, thanks Mark!
So here I am, a day short of a third of the way through the month and finally at the half-way point. I am trying really hard to not think about the fact that last year at this time I was three days away from finishing. Thoughts like that will just put me back into that deep dark hole that held me back a few days ago, and at last, I have finally found my groove. I know where my story is headed, how exactly it is going to end, and for the first time in my writing life, it isn't a particularly happy place.
This is pretty foreign territory for me, I write mostly romance and the happily ever after thing is pretty much a prerequisite for the genre. Maybe it is because I am still kind of pissed off at a couple rude fan-girls, but I feel a bit like staging a rebellion. My heroine is going to lose her baby - she will be stillborn, they will bury her and then she will leave my hero standing alone at her grave. For months, he will have no clue where she is, he will mourn alone and when my heroine returns, all he will get is an offer of friendship.
Of course, that isn't exactly unhappy. They will still be together, the reader will have the right to fantasize that maybe once the curtain falls and they get past their sadness they eventually end up together. It is the least that I can do - it is what I would want if it were me sitting on the other side of the monitor.
But when you sit mulling over an idea and you start to cry - you know you are dealing with something you have no choice but to run with. This could be pretty powerful stuff if I do it right. Maybe this is a little cruel, but my story is called The Fractured Fairy Tale after all. I'll probably be hunted, tarred and feathered for this one but I can't worry about that, the story has to come first.
Besides, the little shits have it coming.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Day Eight - The Time of my Life
Word Count - 20189
What a difference a day makes! I woke up this morning revved up and ready to go; once again I am excited about NaNoWriMo and my project. I would like very much to credit this to some great explosion inside me, some great awakening and spiritual thing, but the truth of the matter is - it had little to do with me.
I've had different approaches to socialization during NaNo my four years participating. In 2008, I hardly knew the forums existed. 2009, I knew the forum was there well enough to have a couple unsavory experiences, 2010 I was quite aware the forum was there and experienced enough unsavory experiences that I almost abandoned NaNo altogether.
Last year I was drawn to the Harry Potter area of Fans and Critics. I've always thought that Harry Potter is different for adult fans than it is for younger readers. Older fans can understand Harry's struggles perhaps better than your average 10 to 20 year old. Where they see whining, an adult can understand the suffering for the pain and indignity he has faced. Where they see him being stupid, we can see nobility and sacrifice. But, try to explain that to someone who is too young to have really experienced life, who has never had to make a decision that effected the well being of anyone but themselves - some have not even had to do that, their most important decision has been what jeans to wear to school. So how can they possibly understand? Needless to say, this argument was not popular among the 13 to 20 year old set who could only see my argument as an attack on their maturity - another sign of immaturity. I wasn't particularly popular there-particularly with the critics. Honestly, I am amazed my account wasn't banned thanks to a bratty little boy who insulted my daughter and my parenting skills. I had to let him have it with both barrels, it was a matter of principle, it just had to be done. No one fucks with my daughter and walks away alive. Period. = )
This year, I am finding a different forum experience altogether. I am pretty sure I know the reason why, besides staying out of Fans and Critics I mean - this year I am playing with people my own age. I am not sure why I've never really spent much time in the 30-40 area of the forum before. I suppose part of it was because that is where most of the overachievers hailed from, and I've always been a bit discouraged by the colossal word counts. You can also chalk it up a little to denial. Fifty is getting closer, I am not particularly pleased about that to be honest.
But the truth of the matter is, this year, I am having the time of my life! I have met some truly awesome people this year, people that I hope I will somehow manage to stay in touch with over the course of the next year and beyond. I love logging in and seeing responses from my insane pal Tigerlily who thinks so much like me it is kinda scary, and Keltickitten who knows better than to encourage my insanity, but does it anyway! I love reading Sebastian's insane messages, and Shen's responses in Google+. Derek's tweets always make me laugh and my Google+ crew are always there with a word of encouragement, and on and on and on - there are just too many to mention that if I tried, I would be here all day!
There are just no words to say how much everyone has encouraged me, there are so many of you that I feel really bad that I can't list you all. If I didn't mention you, please know that it isn't because of lack of appreciation and gratitude, I am just too old to remember every name and too feeble to type them all - Over 150 amazing human beings on Google+ alone, another 25 on Skype, 5 more on Twitter, everyone of you, a smile just waiting to happen.
So I thank you all, each and every single one of you for sharing your NaNoWriMo 2011 with me. You are all dear to me, each and every one.
Just thought you ought to know.
What a difference a day makes! I woke up this morning revved up and ready to go; once again I am excited about NaNoWriMo and my project. I would like very much to credit this to some great explosion inside me, some great awakening and spiritual thing, but the truth of the matter is - it had little to do with me.
I've had different approaches to socialization during NaNo my four years participating. In 2008, I hardly knew the forums existed. 2009, I knew the forum was there well enough to have a couple unsavory experiences, 2010 I was quite aware the forum was there and experienced enough unsavory experiences that I almost abandoned NaNo altogether.
Last year I was drawn to the Harry Potter area of Fans and Critics. I've always thought that Harry Potter is different for adult fans than it is for younger readers. Older fans can understand Harry's struggles perhaps better than your average 10 to 20 year old. Where they see whining, an adult can understand the suffering for the pain and indignity he has faced. Where they see him being stupid, we can see nobility and sacrifice. But, try to explain that to someone who is too young to have really experienced life, who has never had to make a decision that effected the well being of anyone but themselves - some have not even had to do that, their most important decision has been what jeans to wear to school. So how can they possibly understand? Needless to say, this argument was not popular among the 13 to 20 year old set who could only see my argument as an attack on their maturity - another sign of immaturity. I wasn't particularly popular there-particularly with the critics. Honestly, I am amazed my account wasn't banned thanks to a bratty little boy who insulted my daughter and my parenting skills. I had to let him have it with both barrels, it was a matter of principle, it just had to be done. No one fucks with my daughter and walks away alive. Period. = )
This year, I am finding a different forum experience altogether. I am pretty sure I know the reason why, besides staying out of Fans and Critics I mean - this year I am playing with people my own age. I am not sure why I've never really spent much time in the 30-40 area of the forum before. I suppose part of it was because that is where most of the overachievers hailed from, and I've always been a bit discouraged by the colossal word counts. You can also chalk it up a little to denial. Fifty is getting closer, I am not particularly pleased about that to be honest.
But the truth of the matter is, this year, I am having the time of my life! I have met some truly awesome people this year, people that I hope I will somehow manage to stay in touch with over the course of the next year and beyond. I love logging in and seeing responses from my insane pal Tigerlily who thinks so much like me it is kinda scary, and Keltickitten who knows better than to encourage my insanity, but does it anyway! I love reading Sebastian's insane messages, and Shen's responses in Google+. Derek's tweets always make me laugh and my Google+ crew are always there with a word of encouragement, and on and on and on - there are just too many to mention that if I tried, I would be here all day!
There are just no words to say how much everyone has encouraged me, there are so many of you that I feel really bad that I can't list you all. If I didn't mention you, please know that it isn't because of lack of appreciation and gratitude, I am just too old to remember every name and too feeble to type them all - Over 150 amazing human beings on Google+ alone, another 25 on Skype, 5 more on Twitter, everyone of you, a smile just waiting to happen.
So I thank you all, each and every single one of you for sharing your NaNoWriMo 2011 with me. You are all dear to me, each and every one.
Just thought you ought to know.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Day Seven Take Two - Victory
Word Count - 20180
Yeah, I made it past my brick wall. I am feeling pretty good about things, all told. I am 5k away from being halfway to 50k, pretty nice place to be sitting on November 7th. I thought I would post another excerpt, a little bit that I am kind of proud of, cause it feels like one of the truly strong passages in my story thus far. But, you need a little set up.
Xenophilius was driven mad in Azkaban, he now thinks he is living 22 years in the past. Luna is only a tiny baby and when Luna visits him at the home, he thinks she is her mother Carina. Aunt Cass is her mothers sister Cassiopeia, they are now publishing the Quibbler together. The scene takes place a couple hours after Luna's one night stand with George where she woke to find that he was engaged to Alicia Spinnett. Just for future reference, I have gone full denial on this, Fred is still alive, he is married to Angelina, and Luna was just dumped by Rolf Scamander. And so we go - Luna has gone to visit her father ...
The Fractured Fairy Tale
From Chapter Three
“Carina…” Xenophilius smiled up at her, his hand outstretched. Luna shook herself and forced a smile, she would pretend that everything was okay, it was easier on him. It would not be hard to hide her upset, he noticed little.
“Hello Daddy.” She crossed and took his hand, then knelt down on the floor by his chair. “How are you feeling today?”
“Very tired, very tired.” He sighed with a wave of his hand. “That precious angel of ours keeps us up so very late, does she not?”
“Yes,” Luna looked away, trying to force the idea of late nights away. “I imagine I did.”
“It is worth it,” He smiled and tightened his hand on hers “When she grows she will be strong and brave, she is the best of us Carina.”
“What if she isn’t?” Luna looked at him pleadingly, as if begging for forgiveness- even though she could not tell him what she had done. Needing to know that it would be okay if she wasn’t perfect . “What if she grows up and does bad things? What if she does things that hurt others?”
“Of course she won’t.” Xenophilius looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “Our Luna has the heart of an angel, she has your heart Carina. A heart that is pure and true.”
Luna lay her cheek on his knee and turned her face away to hide her tears. As it always did, his hand found it's way into her hair, brushing gently over the blonde tresses that had been so like her mothers. It was like torture, hearing him speak of her with such reverence, comparing her to her mother who really was pure of heart. Carina was the one who was truly worthy of his praise, not her, she might have been once, but not anymore. Her actions the night before had proven that.
“She’s not who you think she is.” She whispered, so softly that she knew he would not hear. “I wish she was, but she is not.”
She thought of Alicia again, of the pain she must be suffering even now. Was she crying; were she and George fighting, calling one another horrible names? Was he low enough to blame her; he had been low enough to cheat on her, surely he could sink low enough to put the blame on someone else.
“Carina, oh my darling…” Xenophilius lifted her chin so she had to look into his pale silver eyes, eyes so like hers. The only thing she had inherited from her father. “Why are you so sad?”
Luna looked at him and her lip trembled " I want you to be proud of me.”
He laughed, a deep, rich laugh that reminded Luna of childhood games in the garden. When he would chase her and her mother around and the first he would catch would be kissed all over the face until they had laughed themselves out of breath. Then, the two would turn and chase down the last, until all three rolled on the grass, their arms twined together.
“I am proud of you darling, I could not be more proud. Look at all you have given me? I know our little Luna is proud of you as well.” He patted her cheek, then gave it a little pinch “And when she grows, she will make us both proud , you watch and see.”
She looked away and nodded, then lay her cheek on his knee again, wondering what he would think if he was in his right mind. Could he still see his beloved Carina in a woman who slept with a man who belonged to another? A man who loved someone else and only had sex with her because he was drunk; who had used him to spit in Rolf Scamander’s eye? She could try to fool herself all she wanted, but she knew her father. Aunt Cass had always been flighty, she had had many lovers and had refused to settle down with any of them. Though her father had never said a word against her, Luna knew he disapproved. There was nothing more important than family to Xenophilius Lovegood, and knowing that his daughter was responsible for bringing a family apart would have made him anything but proud. He might even have been ashamed of her.
And Luna could not blame him. She was ashamed as well.
Yeah, I made it past my brick wall. I am feeling pretty good about things, all told. I am 5k away from being halfway to 50k, pretty nice place to be sitting on November 7th. I thought I would post another excerpt, a little bit that I am kind of proud of, cause it feels like one of the truly strong passages in my story thus far. But, you need a little set up.
Xenophilius was driven mad in Azkaban, he now thinks he is living 22 years in the past. Luna is only a tiny baby and when Luna visits him at the home, he thinks she is her mother Carina. Aunt Cass is her mothers sister Cassiopeia, they are now publishing the Quibbler together. The scene takes place a couple hours after Luna's one night stand with George where she woke to find that he was engaged to Alicia Spinnett. Just for future reference, I have gone full denial on this, Fred is still alive, he is married to Angelina, and Luna was just dumped by Rolf Scamander. And so we go - Luna has gone to visit her father ...
The Fractured Fairy Tale
From Chapter Three
“Carina…” Xenophilius smiled up at her, his hand outstretched. Luna shook herself and forced a smile, she would pretend that everything was okay, it was easier on him. It would not be hard to hide her upset, he noticed little.
“Hello Daddy.” She crossed and took his hand, then knelt down on the floor by his chair. “How are you feeling today?”
“Very tired, very tired.” He sighed with a wave of his hand. “That precious angel of ours keeps us up so very late, does she not?”
“Yes,” Luna looked away, trying to force the idea of late nights away. “I imagine I did.”
“It is worth it,” He smiled and tightened his hand on hers “When she grows she will be strong and brave, she is the best of us Carina.”
“What if she isn’t?” Luna looked at him pleadingly, as if begging for forgiveness- even though she could not tell him what she had done. Needing to know that it would be okay if she wasn’t perfect . “What if she grows up and does bad things? What if she does things that hurt others?”
“Of course she won’t.” Xenophilius looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “Our Luna has the heart of an angel, she has your heart Carina. A heart that is pure and true.”
Luna lay her cheek on his knee and turned her face away to hide her tears. As it always did, his hand found it's way into her hair, brushing gently over the blonde tresses that had been so like her mothers. It was like torture, hearing him speak of her with such reverence, comparing her to her mother who really was pure of heart. Carina was the one who was truly worthy of his praise, not her, she might have been once, but not anymore. Her actions the night before had proven that.
“She’s not who you think she is.” She whispered, so softly that she knew he would not hear. “I wish she was, but she is not.”
She thought of Alicia again, of the pain she must be suffering even now. Was she crying; were she and George fighting, calling one another horrible names? Was he low enough to blame her; he had been low enough to cheat on her, surely he could sink low enough to put the blame on someone else.
“Carina, oh my darling…” Xenophilius lifted her chin so she had to look into his pale silver eyes, eyes so like hers. The only thing she had inherited from her father. “Why are you so sad?”
Luna looked at him and her lip trembled " I want you to be proud of me.”
He laughed, a deep, rich laugh that reminded Luna of childhood games in the garden. When he would chase her and her mother around and the first he would catch would be kissed all over the face until they had laughed themselves out of breath. Then, the two would turn and chase down the last, until all three rolled on the grass, their arms twined together.
“I am proud of you darling, I could not be more proud. Look at all you have given me? I know our little Luna is proud of you as well.” He patted her cheek, then gave it a little pinch “And when she grows, she will make us both proud , you watch and see.”
She looked away and nodded, then lay her cheek on his knee again, wondering what he would think if he was in his right mind. Could he still see his beloved Carina in a woman who slept with a man who belonged to another? A man who loved someone else and only had sex with her because he was drunk; who had used him to spit in Rolf Scamander’s eye? She could try to fool herself all she wanted, but she knew her father. Aunt Cass had always been flighty, she had had many lovers and had refused to settle down with any of them. Though her father had never said a word against her, Luna knew he disapproved. There was nothing more important than family to Xenophilius Lovegood, and knowing that his daughter was responsible for bringing a family apart would have made him anything but proud. He might even have been ashamed of her.
And Luna could not blame him. She was ashamed as well.
Day Seven - Rocky and Me
Word Count -15020
No, your eyes aren't deceiving you, my word count has actually shrunk by a small bit. I broke the rules, I went back and edited my sex scene. Waste of time really, it still kinda sucks, just not as bad as before. I finally found myself with some of that lovely quiet I was bitching about not having last night, and my mind went blank. I opened my document and instead of being able to get going, I actually began to feel slightly sick. Correct me if I am wrong - but should a writer feel like vomiting at the idea of working on a project? Somehow this is a puzzle piece that just doesn't seem to fit in this little landscape I have going here. Then I realized what it was - this is the same feeling that I have come to recognize as writers block.
Nice timing eh?
I'm not sure exactly what my problem is, disappointment that I am not further ahead in my word count? Fear that I don't have enough mental development to get me to 50k words? Maybe it is the rude review I got on FFnet last night informing me that I have no right to not like JKR's ridiculous post Deathly Hallows pairings - from someone using the last name Cullen for chrissake. I hate to break it to you hun, Bella Swan may have no right to have her own mind, but I certainly have a right to mine - now shut up and go watch something sparkle.
So here I am on a lovely Monday morning with six hours of uninterrupted silence stretching out ahead of me. And my first thought upon waking - (well, my first after 'I really need the bathroom' and 'Where the hell is my F.V. Cappuccino'). dread -that sickly writers block so bad that I want to vomit at the idea of opening that F-ing document.
I am back to where I was last Wednesday, hating my plot, hating my characters as they are being portrayed, hating the writing in general. Most of all, I am hating that my time to back up and try something else is fast running out.
I guess at the heart of it all, I don't want to give up on this one. I want to see it through to the great story I know this can be. I've worked miracles with much less. I just wish I could figure out what is holding me back, and even more, I wish I could figure out how to spring the trap door that will set me free. I feel a little bit like Rocky Balboa, faltering in his training, feeling tired and wanting to tell Mickey to go to hell - badly needing to be slapped around a bit.
I don't have a Mickey, but I sure as hell wish I did. Heh.
I know, however, that this is something I have to do alone. The only person who can do this is me. I need to put on those old sweats, drink my egg and hit the streets. Then, at the end of my run, I can raise my fists high in the air and dance. Even though there will be no one there to see when I cross that 50k finish line, I will know that I was victorious and that will be enough.
My goal for today, just to get moving, to at least get 1666 words in, to do what I said I would do several posts back. Take it slow and steady and enjoy the ride. NaNo only comes once a year, would be a shame to waste it.
So, I'm ready to go, I've got my sweats on (my old ratty nightgown), I've had my egg ( French Vanilla Cappuccino) and I am ready to run (After I post this to Google+)
Cue Rocky theme
No, your eyes aren't deceiving you, my word count has actually shrunk by a small bit. I broke the rules, I went back and edited my sex scene. Waste of time really, it still kinda sucks, just not as bad as before. I finally found myself with some of that lovely quiet I was bitching about not having last night, and my mind went blank. I opened my document and instead of being able to get going, I actually began to feel slightly sick. Correct me if I am wrong - but should a writer feel like vomiting at the idea of working on a project? Somehow this is a puzzle piece that just doesn't seem to fit in this little landscape I have going here. Then I realized what it was - this is the same feeling that I have come to recognize as writers block.
Nice timing eh?
I'm not sure exactly what my problem is, disappointment that I am not further ahead in my word count? Fear that I don't have enough mental development to get me to 50k words? Maybe it is the rude review I got on FFnet last night informing me that I have no right to not like JKR's ridiculous post Deathly Hallows pairings - from someone using the last name Cullen for chrissake. I hate to break it to you hun, Bella Swan may have no right to have her own mind, but I certainly have a right to mine - now shut up and go watch something sparkle.
So here I am on a lovely Monday morning with six hours of uninterrupted silence stretching out ahead of me. And my first thought upon waking - (well, my first after 'I really need the bathroom' and 'Where the hell is my F.V. Cappuccino'). dread -that sickly writers block so bad that I want to vomit at the idea of opening that F-ing document.
I am back to where I was last Wednesday, hating my plot, hating my characters as they are being portrayed, hating the writing in general. Most of all, I am hating that my time to back up and try something else is fast running out.
I guess at the heart of it all, I don't want to give up on this one. I want to see it through to the great story I know this can be. I've worked miracles with much less. I just wish I could figure out what is holding me back, and even more, I wish I could figure out how to spring the trap door that will set me free. I feel a little bit like Rocky Balboa, faltering in his training, feeling tired and wanting to tell Mickey to go to hell - badly needing to be slapped around a bit.
I don't have a Mickey, but I sure as hell wish I did. Heh.
I know, however, that this is something I have to do alone. The only person who can do this is me. I need to put on those old sweats, drink my egg and hit the streets. Then, at the end of my run, I can raise my fists high in the air and dance. Even though there will be no one there to see when I cross that 50k finish line, I will know that I was victorious and that will be enough.
My goal for today, just to get moving, to at least get 1666 words in, to do what I said I would do several posts back. Take it slow and steady and enjoy the ride. NaNo only comes once a year, would be a shame to waste it.
So, I'm ready to go, I've got my sweats on (my old ratty nightgown), I've had my egg ( French Vanilla Cappuccino) and I am ready to run (After I post this to Google+)
Cue Rocky theme
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