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A little place were I can rant and rave about the ups and down of writing my first novel. I started it when I was writing for NaNoWriMo in Nov 2008, and I find that it still provides that push of inspiration when I'm suffering from writers block.
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1. NaNo in July day 3: Current word count 5,285

There is something to be said to actually having the time to write. The words haven't flowed this well in a very long time. It might also have a little something to do with the weeks of planning and prep leading up to my eventual unemployment. In any case, I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, or in this case thesaurus. It feels really good to feel like I'm finally doing what I was put onto this planet to do.

Here is a little something from a chapter I'm currently working on... Enjoy!

The afternoon sun was shining high in the sky. It was really warm, Tobias could feel the beads of sweat trickling down his back causing his shirt to stick uncomfortably to his skin. He was hiking through the woods, one of his favorite past times, except this trail didn’t look familiar. He continued forward, the sun beating down on his head and shoulders.
‘I should have remembered to bring a hat,’ he thought to himself. He kept walking, stepping confidently over rocks and tree roots, sure in his footing. After awhile the canopy of trees became thicker, blocking some of the sun’s intense rays. Tobias paused, wiping a sweaty arm across his forehead. His mouth tasted dry and dusty, smacking his lips he fumbled for the straw on his CamelBak. He bit down on the rubbery plastic bite valve and sucked greedily. Unfortunately only a few drops of water fell onto his parched tongue. He sucked harder but to no avail, the hydration pack was empty.
Tired and dehydrated, Tobias continued along the trail. The branches overhead grew thicker and more dense, soon there was very little light. Tobias couldn’t tell if the sun was setting or if it was just the trees preventing the light from getting through. The growing darkness was more than a little unsettling, but Tobias pressed on.
After walking for what seemed like forever, the sound of running water made Tobias stop, his ears perked listenings to see if he could determine the direction the source of the sound. Without hesitation, Tobias stepped off the path, the need to slack his thirst the only thought on his mind. He followed the sound of rushing water, stumbling through the brush until he reached a clearing.
The canopy overhead had thinned, allowing a few shafts of light to shine through. Next to the clearing, was a stream, its waters babbling merrily almost calling Tobias by name. Without thinking, Tobias flung himself to his knees on bank and dipped his hand into the cool water. He drank greedily, cupping large handfuls of water and bringing them to his lips. However, no matter how many handfuls of water he gulped down, his thirst wasn’t abated. He put his face directly into the water, gulping large mouthfuls of water until his belly was swollen, still his mouth and tongue felt dry and parched as if he’d been drinking sand instead of water.
The sound of footsteps in the clearing behind him distracted him from his thirst. The sound was too loud to be a predator and too big to be a human, a group of humans maybe but Tobias got the sense that whatever it was, there was only one. Water dripping down his chin, he sat up and looked around. At first, he couldn’t see anything, the clearing was empty except for him and the only sounds he could hear were the sounds of the birds in the trees and the water rushing next to him, taunting him.  
He turned back to the stream, intending to have more to drink when he heard the sound of footsteps again, this time louder and closer. In addition, there was a deep snuffling as the newcomer was tasting the air a large nose. Tobias whirled around and gasped. Standing at the edge of the clearing was the largest horse Tobias had ever seen.

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2. NaNo in July Day 1: word count 2,537

Today I officially started on my self proclaimed NaNoWriMo in July project and so far things are going really well. It helps not having to go to work anymore. I was able to get quite a bit of writing done while the boys were still asleep and then I got out to my favorite coffee shop this afternoon and got quite a bit more done.


One of the drawbacks to not working anymore is how isolating it can be just sitting at the computer in my office all day. I've had stories fizzle and die on me due to a lack of contact with the real world. To combat my hermit tendencies I've been making a point to leave the house and go someplace public to write for an hour or two. It seems to help, at the very least it makes for some good people watching when I get stuck. 

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3. Taking the plunge

Today I am officially unemployed. A few months ago, I made the decision to quit my job at the school I'd worked at for three years to pursue writing full time.

*eeep!*

I am both exhilarated and terrified at the prospect. I'm excited to finally be able to put 100% of my energy and focus into something I love doing, but at the same time I'm terrified that it will turn out that after all this... I suck as a writer.

It's a ballsy move, one that could be wildly successful but I could just as easily fall flat on my face. However, the most important part of the outcome will be finally knowing that this is my true path in life. That being said, I will have to find some kind of part time job to bring in some money, however I'm giving myself a solid month to jump start my writing goals.

Starting on Monday, I'm beginning what I'm calling NaNoWriMo in July. Spending the next month writing a complete novel from start to finish. An ambitious goal to say the least, but I feel confident and capable of success.

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4. And... we're off!

Okay, so Nanowrimo has officially started and already I'm behind. It doesn't help that my job can be pretty stressful, and saps a bunch of my mental energy but sitting down to work on what I've been planning on for weeks... lets just say Plot Bunny and I didn't have chemistry. Attractive looking on the outside, but scratch the surface there wasn't much there. Instead, another Plot Bunny caught my attention and while it shares some traits with my first Bunny, this Bunny has some curves and scintillating prose. Unfortunately it means starting back at square one, but I didn't waste too much of my  time on the flat, empty Bunny.

That being said... it's time to get back to work.

For now, please enjoy a snippet from the Prologue

The first steps are always the hardest. Standing on the precipice, a vast abyss looming ahead, a large part of my brain is screaming at me to stay still and not move while the other part says ‘Go for it… What to you got to loose?’ What do I have to loose? My life, my home, my family, me… When you sit down and really think about it, there is a whole hell of a lot to loose; enough to keep me rooted in place. Maybe as I stand here looking out across a seemingly barren wasteland of the unknown the question I should be asking myself is… ‘What will I have to gain?’  
The answer to that question is infinitely more terrifying, but exciting at the same time. What will I gain? Going forward, where will I end up? The path that lies ahead could lead to anywhere, and it’s that thought that spurs me on to do the unthinkable. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, gird my loins, and move forward. 
Yes, first steps are the hardest, but you never get to where you ultimately need to be if all you do is stand still. The first tentative steps I took towards a different path irrevocably altered my life. 

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5. Two more days to go...

Thats it, just two more days until I dive fingertip first into this year's novel. I've spent the past month thinking and planning for the upcoming 50,000+ words. It's almost like meeting someone interesting online... you exchange emails, messages, maybe chat and share photos. Then you get to that point where its time to take it to the next level and actually meet face to face and see if there is actually anything more than just a fleeting attraction to a vague idea.

There is no telling what the next month is going to bring and the anticipation is building. It could be love at first vowel, or maybe we'll end up better as friends... the possibilities are endless.

In the meantime, its good to get out there and try out other smaller ideas, and to that end I bring on Word Prompt #3

Word Prompt #3 - Memory

The old man sat alone in his living room flipping through a worn, faded, scrapbook. His eyes skimmed through the pictures full of faces of people he’d known, places he’d been, things he’d seen. Over the years, his memories had grown as faded as the old photographs in the book, looking back over his life was like looking through the eyes of a stranger. It both frustrated and saddened him that he could no longer clearly recall the names and faces smiling up at him, all with the exception of her… Gloria, his beloved wife.
They had been married for over fifty years before she passed away. Fifty years waking up next to her in bed every morning, seeing her blue eyes sparkle as he kissed her good morning. Fifty years of birthdays, anniversaries, family dinners… he could recall every moment he spent with her, every kiss, every time she held his hand, the way she snuggled into the crook of his arm at the movies.
The old man’s grey eyes filled with tears as relived in his mind their wedding day. The way her hair gleamed in the sun light as she walked down the aisle, her eyes shining with love and promise. He recalled how her body felt against his on the dance floor as they danced their first dance to Sinatra’s The Way You Look Tonight. He relived the moment their son was born followed by a daughter and another son. They still visit… he thinks, but he can’t picture their faces the way he can picture how Gloria looked when he surprised her with breakfast in bed for their first anniversary. 
She had been his whole world, his universe, his reason for living, and after Gloria passed, his world stopped being bright and clear. It was as though she was the glue that held his fractured memories together and with out her… he couldn’t keep hold of anything.
Alone in his living room, surrounded by cherished memories of his beloved wife, the old man quietly closed his eyes. For one last time, he brought forward the mental image of her face, her blue eyes warm and loving, her hair soft, her lips supple and inviting. He allowed himself to be wrapped up in her love. He could feel her near him, her hand on his hand warm and welcoming beaconing for him to rise and join her. As his heart slowed and sputtered and his breath came to a quiet end, he willed his soul to rise and be with her… he beloved Gloria. 

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6. Word Prompt #2 - Robbed

Just a few short days until NaNo... I'm getting excited to start writing, I've been churning over and planning this years novel for weeks now and all I want to do is get started and dive in. Fortunately, these word prompts have been a great distraction as well as a way to limber up the right side of my brain.

On that note...  I've got my second word prompt on the word robbed. This time I went autobiographical and wrote about the last triathlon I was in this season which had a disastrous ending.


Word Prompt #2 - Robbed

The cold water was shocking against my skin as I waded into the reservoir. Adjusting my swim cap and googles, I looked around at the other people waiting anxiously for the wave to start. I could hear the race announcer’s voice in the distance, giving us swimmers our two minute warning. The tension and anxiety in the air is palpable as I look out across the water, the bright orange buoys bobbing in the distance. They look so small and far away, I take a deep breath to steady my nerves, I can do this… I’m ready.
Cautiously, I move through the crowd as I try to find a good place. The announcer gives us the one minute warning, and around me everyone is gearing up for the start. Five. Four. Three. Two…  The blast of an air horn pierces the morning and the water churns around me as the wave starts. I dive forward, my arms automatically falling into my free style rhythm; stroke, stroke, breathe, stroke, stroke… Soon the anxiety and tension melts away as my entire focus is centered on my stroke and breathing as I head out towards the heart of the reservoir.
Thirty minutes and 1500 meters later, I emerge from the water. Tired and slightly disoriented, I carefully make my way up the beach towards transition stripping off my wet suit as move. Around me, other racers also exit the water and race past me. I don’t care that they’re faster, I’d rather take my time going through the thick, slippery mud of the beach than rush and end up twisting an ankle.
I make it into transition and hurry to my station which I had painstakingly prepped before the race. I step out of my wetsuit and grab my shoes, slipping my still wet feet inside. Putting on my helmet, I grab my bike and start pushing it towards the starting line. It’s an off road course, so instead of my sleek and fast road bike, I have a mountain bike which is bigger, heavier… a whole different type of bicycle.
Reaching the start like for the bike course, I throw my leg over the seat and push off. My head is still feeling a little disoriented from the swim so my start is slow, but soon I am making my way down the trail. It’s a different course from what I’m used to, most of my other races are on roads instead of trails but I solder on… I know I can do this. 
In contrast to the start of the swim heat, which had everyone starting at the same time, the bike course is staggered and for portions of the tail I am alone. I’m cautious, the trail is a lot bumpier narrower than I expected, full of sharp turns and switch backs. I’m feeling out of my element and my focus isn’t on racing so much as just staying up right. Behind me, other cyclist come barreling past shouting choruses of “On the left!” as they pass. 
My heart is pounding wildly in my chest, not so much from the physical exertion as fear of wiping out. The trail narrows ominously is places and every rock and branch along the way seems to be trying their best to trip up my wheels. “I can do this,” is no longer the mantra running through my head. Its no longer a matter of ‘can do’, I’m in the thick of it and I have no choice but to continue.
The twisting, winding trail suddenly straightens and my confidence bolstered, I gear up and press harder on the pedals, gaining speed. The end is near, and I start to look forward to the third and final phase of the race, the run. I’m planning my strategy when, suddenly, I hear a call…
“Passing on your left!”
I swerve to the right, narrowly avoiding the other cyclist as he passed. Reflexively, squeeze my hand brakes hard and my bike starts to wobble unsteadily beneath me, the tires slipping on the chalky path. Suddenly, my front tire strikes a rock and I’m vaulted forward. I fly over the handle bars and land, chest first, on the trail my chin scrapping the ground as I bounce. Air is knocked from my chest and I lay gasping on the trail for a few moments before frantically scrambling off to the side; other cyclists are approaching. 
My stomach churns as I cough and gasp for air. I wave away the offers of help from the passing cyclists as I try to pull my bike out of a thick patch of vegetation. After one last strong tug, my bike is freed but I can see that its damaged. Bending over to see the extent of the damage, the ribs on my left twinge and I’m left once again gasping for air. There is no way I am finishing this race.
Biting back the tears that well up from more than just the pain in my chest, I try not to think about all the time and effort I spent leading up to the race getting ready. 
“Do you need help?” a cyclist asks, stopping on the side of the trail.
I almost wave him on, but change my mind. “Yes,” I replied forlornly. “I wiped out back there and my gears are messed up and my chest…”
“I’ll inform a ranger,” the cyclist replies, his shoes clipping into the pedals. “Whats your bib number?”
“646.”
“I’ll let the rangers know when I see one,” the cyclist promised as he pushes off. 
I sit on the side of the trail and watch him pedal away, all hopes of completing the race dashed for good. Bravely, I fight back more tears as wave after wave of racers pass, each one taking my bib number and promising to send a ranger when/if they see one. Soon, I am alone… waiting with nothing else to do but to sit and chastise myself for being so stupid. It was naive of me to think that I could mountain bike as well as I bike on the road. I had no business being on the trail today and as a result, I robbed myself out of the race.

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7. Another year another NaNoWriMo

It's that time of year again, the leaves change and fall off the trees, the weather turns cold and there is snow outside on the ground, and here I sit hunkered down at the computer getting ready to spend the next thirty days chasing down plot points and story lines. National Novel Writing Month, the IronMan of writing competitions, 50,000+ words in 30 days, write an entire novel in a month. This is what separates the novelists from everyone else and where you find out who your true friends really are; they're the ones who are still willing to speak to you after being ignored for a month.

This year is my fifth NaNo, and I am once again embarking on the quest to write an entire novel from start to finish with the hopes of maybe one day getting published. This year I'm going to do things a little bit different from past years. One of the things I've struggled with in the past is the inability to get my brain in gear. I reach points in my novel where I loose the plot, literally, and I can't seem to form a complete sentence to save my life.

This time, when I get to that point, I'm going to take advantage of some of the tools NaNoLand offers by taking a moment here and there to work on random writing prompts to try to jump start my writing when it stalls. Then my thought is to post some of those random prompts here for feed back, entertainment, and just because I can.

So, to start off... I have my first writing prompt based off just one word... ballet. It's an absurd short story about the end of the world and why guys should always listen to their girlfriends (it just works out better for them in the long run).

Oh, and one more note... please ignore the inevitable typos, spelling and grammatical errors. These are quick little prompts that are meant to exercise the brain and to have a little fun along the way.


Writing Prompt #1 - Ballet

“Remind me, why are you dragging me to this thing tonight?” Simon moaned as he wrestled with his tie.
“Its not a thing, its the ballet,” Sarah admonished.
“Its gay, thats what it is.”
“The ballet is not gay, its cultured.”
“Guys prancing around in tights, how is that not gay?”
Sarah sighed and rolled her eyes, “Its no more gay than watching football players go around slapping each other on the ass.”
“At least football is a sport, those are real athletes out there on the field.”
“Yeah, real athletes that need pounds and pounds of padding in order to keep from getting hurt. You have no idea the physical skill it takes to dance ballet, I can guarantee you that most of the dancers tonight will be dancing on broken toes and stress fractures and you wont see them whining and complaining about getting hurt.”
Simon snorted in a huff, yanking the knot of his tie up to his Adams apple. “Whatever,” he muttered under his breath.
“Come on Simon, I go with you to all your various sporting events even though I hate sitting out in the cold, freezing my butt off, drinking bad beer and bored out of my mind. You promised that tonight we’d go and do something I wanted for a change.”
“Football isn’t boring,” Simon protested.
“Sure, fine… whatever.” 
Sarah glared at Simon through the mirror as she finished applying her mascara. Simon recognized the look on her face, there was no way he was going to get out of having to go to the ballet. “Look, I’m sorry babe,” he said soothingly. “You’re right, I did promise to go to the ballet with you. I was just bummed because Norm got these amazing tickets to tonights game and he was wanting me to go with him.”
Sarah’s face fell, “Oh…”
“But a promise is a promise… I’ll text Norm and tell him that we can’t go tonight.” Simon smiled reassuringly to Sarah as he reached into his pocket pulling out his cell phone. “He got club house tickets, I’m sure he wont have any trouble finding someone to tag along.”
“Club house? Wow… fancy…”
“Apparently he got them as a gift from a client at work.” 
“Nice gift.”
“Sure… I guess,” Simon replied, stoically running his thumbs over the keypad.
Sarah sighed, “Lets just go to the game.”
Simon looked up surprised, “What? Really? What about the ballet?”
“The show is going on a couple more weeks, we can go another time. It seems like these tickets are kind of a big deal.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah… I mean they're good tickets, and the club house is indoors so it will be comfortable.”
Simon reached down and swooped Sarah up into his arms. “You are the best babe!” he exclaimed kissing her. “Tomorrow night, I promise, we’ll go to the ballet.”
“I should probably change,” Sarah commented looking down at the black cocktail dress she had just purchased for their date. 
“Sure babe,” Simon replied. “I’ll text Norm and tell him we’ll meet him at the stadium.” 
He caught a glance at his reflection in the mirror as Sarah left the room, and grinned. The scene worked out just as Norm predicted it would, all he had to do is down play how badly he wanted to go to the game and make her feel guilty for making him miss out. 
“Tonight is going to be awesome!” he thought as he quickly yanked off the tie and changed out of the uncomfortable dressy clothes. He was careful not to seem too smug when Sarah came back twenty minutes later, her sexy black dress replaced with a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.
“All set babe?” he asked.
“Sure. Lets go see some football,” she replied with forced enthusiasm.
Outside the stadium, Norman glanced impatiently at his watch. Pulling out his iPhone he sent a message to Simon, “10 minutes to kick off, where are you?”
“Waiting for Sarah to get ready,” Simon replied. “We’ll be there in a few.”
Ten minutes later, still no sign of Simon or Sarah, Norman texted Simon again. “Seriously dude, I’ve been waiting out here forever, where are you?”
“Getting close, traffics a bitch right now. If you want, leave the tickets at Will Call and we’ll meet you in the club house.”
“Fine, the tickets will be at the Will Call office under your name. See you when you finally arrive.”
The game was in full swing by the time Simon and Sarah walked into the suite. The home team was winning by several points and the fans were going crazy below, screaming and hollering, cheering on the players.
“Norm!” Simon called, slapping Norman on the back. “Its a total madhouse out there!”
“Hey Simon, took you long enough to get here.”
“Yeah, sorry about that, I had to talk Sarah into coming. She had it in her head that we were going to go to the ballet tonight.”
Norman had to bite his tongue to keep from asking why they didn’t just go to the ballet. Sarah seemed like a nice enough girl, very attractive and sexy, but every time Norman hung out with the two of them, she always seemed quiet and distant as though she had better things to do than go to the game with her boyfriend and his best friend.
“How are you doing Sarah?” Norman asked, struggling to keep his tone neutral and friendly.
“I’m doing good Norman,” she replied pleasantly. “How are you?”
“Not too bad.”
“This is a pretty impressive set up,” she commented gesturing at their surroundings. 
“Yeah, I just finished a big project for one of my company’s biggest clients and they gave me the tickets.”
“This set up is epic!” Simon exclaimed. “You can see everything! Plus the TV screens, this is sweet!”
“Not too shabby,” Norman agreed. “Theres food and beer in the mini bar, help yourself to whatever. All courtesy of my big time client.”
“Are we the only ones here tonight?” Simon asked, helping himself to a beer.
“I invited a few people, so far you and Sarah are the first to show up. Everyone else seems to be running really late or are just going to flake entirely.”
“It was kind of crazy getting here,” Simon admitted.
“Either way, if they show up they show, if not then we have the suite to ourselves.”
“Right on man!” Simon raised his beer in salute. Norman raised his bottle and the two friends clinked the bottle necks and took a drink.
“Come on man, lets watch the game!” Norman ushered Simon to one of the seats overlooking the field.
Sarah sat and watched the game dispassionately while Simon and Norman hooted and hollered at the players. Soon she grew bored and opening her purse, she grabbed a magazine and started flipping through the pages. 
After a while, the noise out on the field seemed to rise to a fever pitch. It didn’t sound so much like cheering as just screaming in general.
“Whats going on?” Simon wondered allowed, frowning as he peered out the window.
“I don’t know,” Norman replied. “Something doesn’t look right.”
Sarah glanced up from the magazine to see what the two men were talking about, but she didn’t see anything too out of the ordinary.
“Whoa!” Norman cried, “What was that? Is that a person running on the field?”
“Yeah, it is! It looks like he chasing one of the players. That dude is crazy!”
“Something is going on down there, but I can’t tell what.”
“Turn on the T.V.” Simon suggested. 
“Good idea,” Norman walked over to the giant flat screen mounted on one of the walls and turned it on. Instantly, they knew that something really wrong was happening in the stadium.
“It’s pandemonium!” cried one of the announcers. “I haven’t seen chaos like this since… I’ve never seen chaos like this.”
“You’ve got that right John,” the other announcer agreed. “People are attacking each other right and left!”
“Not just attacking Bob, I’m getting reports that people are being bitten!”
Norman and Simon gaped at the screen, their mouths open in shock, as the camera panned along the stadium tiers showing people biting and clawing at one another.
Sarah looked up from her magazine and screamed. Just outside the windows to the suite, people were hacking and tearing at each other. “Oh my God!” she cried “What’s going on!”
“Well folks it’s official,” John the announcer declared soberly. “The zombie apocalypse has begun. There is no word of how it started, all of the reporters on the field are either dead or thirsting after human flesh. This is it, the event we all feared would happen has finally come to pass. I don’t know how much longer before the zombies finish off the people in the stadium and spread out into the city. If you are in a position to leave, get out, if not… well, find yourself a weapon, hug your loved ones, and hunker down because the world is going to hell in a hand basket.”
Somewhere off camera there was a loud crash then suddenly the screen went to static.
“Oh my God! Oh my God!” Sarah cried. “What do we do!”
“We gotta get out of here,” Norman shouted rushing for the door to the suit.
“I don’t think that we’re going to be going anywhere,” Simon commented. “Look!”
He pointed out at the windows. Sarah and Norman slowly turned, their eyes following the direction Simon was pointing to. 
“Holly crap!” Norman shouted.
Lining the windows were hundreds of faces, eyes red and ferocious, staring at them with ravenous lust. Slowly backing away from the windows, Simon grabbed Sarah’s hand, squeezing her fingers painfully. The zombies plastered against the glass started scratching and banging at the window. 
Norman reached the door exiting the suite first, but just as he reached out to grab the handle the three heard the ominous sounds of even more zombies on the other side of the door. 
In the last second before the glass broke and gave way, Simon could help thinking that perhaps spending an evening at the ballet wouldn’t have been so bad after all.  

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8. 10 hours before it all begins

Just a mere 10 hours before NaNoWriMo 2011 begins.

I've spent this past month getting everything prepared to spend the next 30 days writing. I have my desk arranged just so, my play lists set up and a selection of my favorite teas on hand. The stage is set, all I can do right now is wait until midnight so I can put my plans into action.

This year will be my fourth NaNo. My first year I accomplished my word goal but in my subsequent NaNo attempts I have not been as successful. This year I'm feeling confident that I'm going to make the 50,000 word goal so long as I can maintain a 2,000 word a day average.

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9. Laying the foundation

Over the past week or so my mind's eye has been ogling a potential plot that I'm hoping to woo for NaNo. It's a shy plot, only showing me a little here, a little there, never letting me get a full look at it but I've seen enough to be excited about the NaNo potential.

This year the foundation for this plot is rooted in a reoccurring dream/nightmare that I've had for years. I rarely remember my dreams, but I've had this one so often and in so many different iterations that each time I have it, the more it sticks in my memory. Currently, I don't have a whole lot to go on beyond imagery and feelings that the dream invokes but it gives me a really interesting perspective from which to approach this novel.

The only outline I have thus far is for the very beginning where I set my stage for the rest of the story, after that I will be oblivious to what happens next. If all goes well, I will write the story as though I was dreaming it, with all of the intensity and uncertainty that comes from truly not knowing how it ends... if it ends at all. Of course the story will have to come to an end, but will the story be resolved in the end? (Who knows, I sure don't!)  For me, some of the best types of stories are the ones where, as a reader, you have no idea what to expect where everyone, even the hero, may not make it through the plot unscathed.

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10. If you build it, it will come...

Less than a month until National Novel Writing Month or NaNoWriMo or more lovingly... Nano. Starting November 1st is a month long, no holds barge, caffeine fueled writing madness where masochistic writers commit themselves to writing 50,000 words or more in 30 days. You laugh, you cry, you get carpal tunnel syndrome from typing too much but in the end (literary gods willing) you have a brand spanking new novel to love and cherish before you spend the next few months picking it apart as you try to make it fit for others to read.

It's my favorite time of year.


So... In preparation for the upcoming month of insanity I am totally redoing my workroom. The whole vibe of the room is chaotic, messy and totally unusable. No self respecting plot would be caught dead spending time here.

If you want to woe a novel, you have to create an atmosphere, set the mood, make your space warm and inviting so the novel will feel welcome. Then, you can ply it with enough coffee or tea, depending on preference (chocolate if you get desperate), so the plot will become willing and pliable to your suggestions. If your space is cluttered and chaotic it says to a prospective novel that you really don't care, that you aren't serious about committing because you have to many other things occupying your mind; novels are very needy and prone to sulk if you aren't attentive.

For the next couple of weeks I'm going to construct a writing space that will bring any plot to it's outline. I am going to de-clutter, get rid of anything that isn't conducive to the writing process. For the past couple of Nanos I've not had good luck snagging and holding onto a plot and this year I'm determined to find the right novel for me.

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11. I used to be articulate

It's Day 5 into NaNoWriMo, and I'm already appallingly behind. I could blame my job and MS for making me be responsible and not pull the massive all night writing sessions that got me through my first NaNo, but to be honest; all the mental energy in the world couldn't help me right now...

The issue that I'm having has more to do with the fact that I have an absolutely gorgeous plot sitting right in front of me, and I can't talk to it. Seriously, the moment I sit down at my computer and open up my document, suddenly all of the witty and clever prose I was going to write flies out of my head, leaving me a blithering idiot fumbling around for just the right words.

Maybe it's the fear of the unknown. My first novel and I hit it off right off the bat, and even though we had our ups and downs on more than one occasion, we always managed to find a way to talk to one another. This book feels a lot more aloof, almost intimidating. The chemistry is there, we could have a really good relationship, but we just can't seem to get past the planning stage.

Honestly, how hard is it to figure out what we're going to do on our first real date? I have a number of settings in mind, and some characters to come along, but nothing I throw out seems to meet with its approval.

Somehow I have to figure out what this novel wants, but the problem is: Novels rarely tell you what direction they want to go in, but they reserve the right to be pissed off when you don't take them there.

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12. Another Year, Another NaNoWriMo

It's NOVEMBER! The time of year many authors wait for, the challenge to write over 50,000 words in only 30 days. In 2008, that was how my novel came into being, and this year I'm going to give it a go again.

Does this mean that my first novel is finished?

No... we decided that we should see other novels for a little while.

This years novel is seductively beckoning to me from the back of my mind, begging me to play with it and unlock all kinds of secrets. My first novel was young and playful; I wrote with a YA audience in mind. This book is anything but YA, and it is going to take me places my other book couldn't go and give me leave to play with some of the more twisted aspects of my imagination.

This years NaNo should be a lot of fun. Hopefully I can get through the next 30 days without all of the drama I had with my first book. That novel has always been tempermental and we had all sorts of disagreements as to what direction to go, and what we should do.

So, it's time for me to buckle down and get to writing. This book and I are in for a good time over the next 30 days and I can't wait to get started.

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13. Can't We Just Be Friends

It's been two years since I wrote my first novel for NaNoWriMo 2008 and it's starting to get to the point where I'm starting to wonder; when do you give up the ghost on a story that just never seems to shore up?

Now, don't get me wrong, I still love my story. After spending two years working on and developing the story, nurturing the characters, you can't help but love what you've been working on. However, how much work can you put into a literary relationship until you have to admit to yourself that, despite all of the good times you and the novel had together, the relationship just isn't meant to have that long term happily ever after?

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14. Purgatory

I'm halfway through my second draft. I successfully completed NaNoWriMo last November and even went so far as to finish a complete first draft. So now I'm stuck in Purgatory, otherwise known as editing and rewriting.

It's been a love hate relationship with the Novel. It keeps complaining, that I all I want to do is change it, I don't like it for what it is, why can't I just be happy. Then, when I update a few passages, rewrite a few paragraph, add a page or two; it seems to like what I'm doing. Of course, there are the changes it doesn't like, and off we go with the whining and complaining. It gets so bad that I have to walk away, set it aside, work on something else, actually see my family for a change.

That never goes over well.

It starts with flowers and apologies, then the never ending stream of phone calls begging me to take it back, it will do anything I want it to do, it trusts me to realize Its full potential. And like any good chump, I go back for more. Sure it all starts well, but then I get stuck, or nit pick certain parts, and we start the cycle all over again.

In the meantime, the Novel is starting to talk about publication.

The conversation started just like any other, I've been working on it for a while, where do I see this all going? Then it starts bugging me about commitment, it want's to have my name, wear my book cover. If I hedge even the slightest, it accuses me that I'm ashamed of it, that I wouldn't want to be seen in public with it. I never take it anywhere, do anything special.

So now, I'm online researching publishers, editors, agents. It wants the whole shebang, large publishing house, custom book jacket (defiantly nothing off the rack), huge release party, review in the Times. When I first started this Novel, it was meant to be just a quick one month stand. It seemed as though we wanted the same things, a little fun, a little prose, an adjective or two, now it has me wrapped around it's binding and I'm hooked. I can't walk away now, especially now that it's telling me that it's expecting a sequel!

Anyone know a good place to publish a novel?

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15. Episode Three: Nice guys finish last

My novel has ditched me, apparently I'm just not good enough for it.

We're nearly 25,000 words into this relationship, and it tells me that something is missing. It seems that I've just not brought enough excitement into the relationship, there's no pizzaz, no spark, no 'za za zo', and oh by the way, my taste in music apparently sucks. How could I know it didn't like listening to Blue October repeatedly? It could have said something, I would have put something else on.

It's just like a novel not to tell you want it wants and then get pissed at you for not doing all the right things.

I'm crushed, really I am. What did I do wrong? Why am I not good enough? *SOB*

Yes, as we speak, my novel is trolling the pages, going down seedy streets and into dive bars. It's hooking up with all sorts of characters looking for a villain. Yes, my friends it's true; nice guys (and gals) really do finish last.

I can't believe that after all I've done for it, and trust me I've done a lot, I'm being chucked for being too nice. I've given that novel the best week of my life! *SOB* Seriously, I've never committed to a relationship thats lasted beyond 5 pages before. I used to be strictly short stories. No muss no fuss, just leave some paper on the printer stand before I go.

This time things were different, I really put myself into this!

Of course my novel assures me that, 'It's not you, it's me.'

Like I haven't heard that line a million times.

Oh why doesn't my novel love me anymore? *SOBHEADDESK*

*sniff*

Maybe it will get tired of it's 'bad guy'. Maybe if I wait around,you know, clean up my grammar a bit, it will come back to me, and we can finally have that happily ever after!

But then again, there's always more short stories out there...

Perhaps it is time to consider therapy.

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16. Episode Two: Desperate times call for desperate measures

* Authors Note: This post was originally published here: http://community.livejournal.com/lj_nanowrimo/47808.html

November 8, 2008 1:29pm

I'm nearing 16,000 words, and so far the relationship is progressing well, but I'm frustrated. Sure we've come a long way, but I still want more! If it would only let me in, I could do things to it that would blow its mind!

So, I got a little desperate. I took it out and tried to get it liquored up. We even went out with another novelist and her novel, a nice little double date so to speak. The energy was great! Ideas were flowing, everyone was getting excited about going home and adding to the word count. Then came the beer, lots and lots of beer. My novel didn't get liquored up, I did. When we got home, the novel beckoned to me, flashing its paragraphs seductively, but I'm embarrassed to say, I couldn't perform. I tried, I really did, but I kept fumbling clumsily on the keyboard and finally just passed out.

So much for that idea.

This morning I got up, hangover and all, and tried to apologize for my appalling performance last night. Sadly, my novel is pretty ticked, I can't get it to do anything now. I've promised that I wont have anymore beer, especially if I can't perform the way I'm supposed to. Flowers aren't working, and it has absolutely no interest in the candy I offered it. I'm reduced to groveling now. Begging and pleading with it to give me something, anything. I've tried being stern with it, come on we've got a deadline here, we can't waste time just because it's having a hissy fit.

Boy that was the wrong track to take, now all I get is ranting about how I'm only interested in the word count, it's only a bunch of paragraphs to me. It reminds me that it has a plot you know, it's more than just words and paragraphs, underneath the font there's a setting and foreshadowing and a climax lurking some were, but no I apparently don't care about all of that, I just want to bang out the words, thats it.

A wise word to my fellow novelists, if your novel is playing hard to get, just play along. Unless you can work better under the influence of liquor, I don't suggest getting it liquored up and trying to take advantage. Please learn from my mistake, I don't know about your novels, but mine can hold a mean grudge and time is just ticking by.

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17. Episode One: Following the 'Rules'

*Author's Note: This post was originally posted here: http://community.livejournal.com/lj_nanowrimo/41409.html



November 6, 2008 10:30pm



I'm 1,200 words away from hitting 15,000. I really want to hit 15,000 words tonight, its my first nano goal. But I'm stuck, I've spent the past 13,000 words painting and developing my character and story, now it's time to take it someplace.

I should take it out, it got all dressed up and everything, I should take it someplace nice, maybe buy it dinner; first class all the way. If I treat it right, maybe it will put out and I'll get lucky, but then again it's only the first date. My novel is a Rules Novel, I'll probably have to work for it before I get lucky, take it out a lot, buy it pretty things, tell it "No, that font doesn't make you look fat" or "I like a novel that has some sustenance to it." And of course I'll have to assure it that I'm in it for more than just a one night stand, and I wouldn't dream of looking at other novels. Then, if all goes well, I'll have to introduce it to my family. Then we'll talk about commitment, were is it all going? And before I know it, I'm permanently bound to it, with a sequel on the way. Then comes the nagging, "Why don't you want to spend time with me anymore? You never take me anyplace nice. I saw you with that skinny collection of short stories when you were supposed to be taking care of the sequel!"

Maybe I should just get it liquored up and have my way with it, no one would blame me. It's been teasing me for days with interesting characters, and plot points, promises have been made, it needs to start living up to what its been flaunting. You can't get an author's hopes up and then roll over and pretend you have a headache, this novel needs to show me the prose!

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18. A little back story...

This year I'm participating in NaNoWriMo http://www.nanowrimo.org . It's my first time participating, and the first time I've really gotten serious about writing a novel.


I'm creating this blog for the purpose of funneling in some of my "procrastination rants". When I get stuck, I tend to rant about the tremulous relationship I have with my novel. It's helped get me through tough times, and others find them amusing. 

I've decided my rants need their own forum, a place to take center stage. Especially as the drama between us heats up. It's honestly a literary soap opera, so I give you... 

"As the Pages Turn"
An authors battle with procrastination

A.K.A I'm really just wasting time that could be better spent on my novel.

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