NaNo conclusions

It’s now 1 December and NaNo writers all over the world are breathing a deep sigh of relief. Now, apparently, it’s the month for editing. Stop breathing and panic!

I really enjoyed doing NaNo at first. It got things moving along, new characters developed, the storyline took a major (and improved) turn, and some latent characters decided they needed major threads. It looked as if it was all coming together. Until I realised that 50k words would be in no way representing this tale. Fair enough as the genre for trad fantasy usually is a bit meatier anyhow. But knowing that I couldn’t get a whole book out in the month made NaNo feel pointless.

Five days until the finish, despite being a little ahead of my schedule for 50k words, I stopped writing. I hate the work. I despise all the characters. And if I even see one sentence more from that book, I think I’ll throw myself out the window onto the new Georgian-style spire on top of my new conservatory (thank you builders for finishing on time after all that!!!).

The thing about creative writing for me has always been how it envelops all my senses as I write. I truly enjoy every moment of the creation and about half way through NaNo, I began to loathe it. It was too forced, too quick. I didn’t have time to really get to know each character and take them through the weeks with me. I think, in short, that NaNo is not really for me. I’ll use it still to keep certain targets as it’s good to have that sort of motivation, but as for a complete 50k novel in a month… nope. It just takes out all the joy.

Having said that, I will finish the last 20-30k of my novel in next year’s NaNo and then use some of the extra time to begin redrafting. I may hate it now, but there was a time when I was head-over-heels in love with the thing and I’m hoping to rekindle the romance.

soo behind...

Gulp 25k and we’re well past the halfway mark. Is it possible for me to finish on time? I’ve got loads of appointments this month and I’ve not been writing very much at the weekends. Not to mention the whole problem of losing steam, having my secondary character upstage everyone else and two background bods that have now got their own story thread.

The whole novel at this point is looking like absolute rubbish. It doesn’t help that whenever I put up a new chapter, instead of working out the next, I go onto the baby website that has absolutely no new information to give me. Sidetracked. That’s what I am. This is probably the last time I’ll have time to set aside to just write and all I can focus on is what things are going to be like with my new addition. Ach! NaNo was supposed to help distract me from all of that.

Okay, but batten down and really get to it. I can finish on time, I just need a bit of focus – and not get sidetracked by what the baby room will look like once the new conservatory is built, or what new Victorian dress I fancy making (ooh, that green 1860’s dress on the back of the museum catalogue has a nice bustle to it and I can wear it next summer….).

No more distractions. Really… On to chapter 13!

builders from...

Ah, just 8 days into NaNo and we've hit a brick wall. Well, a conservatory wall really. It's already 10:20 and I've not written one word. You see, the builders are supposed to arrive today (after not having appeared last week) and I'm guaranteed by their secretary that they WILL be here. Sometime. Today. Can I write a single pronoun? Nope. Not while waiting for builders. Will they show? Will I be able to write as I'm pacing furiously up and down the carpet?

Methinks they are at the pub waiting for it to rain so they can bunk off work.

Okay, enough with my ranting and back to NaNo. I can do my 2k word target today, but instead of being before lunch, it's likely to be after. I suppose now is the time to work on my PiBoIdMo portfolio. I'm up to 7 picture book ideas, about three of them I love and the others I look at skeptically. I've also got this story that's been floating in my brain for the past few years and I'm loving the idea of writing it out in a journal, longhand by candlelight in the conservatory. No, wait... can't do that now can I?

Bloody builders.

nanano splatterings...

So, we're two days into NaNo and I've been very good so far at keeping to my word length. 2,160 words yesturday and today I've got 180 more to go before I reach my target of 2k. As I've just finished a big scene, I'm resting up for a few minutes before I plough into the next one.

Last year I used NaNo to just help me format and edit Blood Tide - the rough had already been hashed, so in that sense, this is my first REAL NaNo year.

It's nice to have something to focus all my time on as I'd just received a rejection (sniff) with a 'can we hold on just in case one of the REAL writers backs out?' Well, of course they can, but I do feel like a leftover Christmas sprout.

Ah well, back to the last of my word count for today...

NewNaNo splots

NaNoWriMo is just around the corner and I’m going to need to be strict! The plan is 1k words before lunch (up at 7:30 and write like a maniac, taking a break about 9 for brekkie and shower) and 1k words after lunch. I’m planning to finish by 3pm and let my eyes glaze over.

Then there are those pesky work days. B****R! That’s something different. How on earth do I fit 2k words into a day where I’m miles away from the computer? I suppose it will be good down time for my subconscious to help work out plot, but once out of my writing stride, I find it difficult to get back into again.

There is no way around it…late nights for me. (wrinkles forehead and tries to envision getting home at 6:30, skipping dinner and writing until midnight)

When I was working full time in London once upon an era ago, I used to wake up at 5am to write, get on the 7ish train and sleep until I got to the station. Then I’d use my lunch break to hide in a quiet spot and write there. I reached a high word count, but couldn’t keep up the early mornings for more than three months. As this is only a one month stint of insanity, I think I might be able to do it J

Ah, and here is a small clip from my latest short story that I’m not supposed to be working on (rough draft of course):

The Taking of Alexander

I grew up on these islands – running barefoot from shore to shore with each new tide. Mother used to wake with the sun to see what new ships would pass on the horizon. I didn’t know it then, but she was really waiting for my father. Each morn to the darkest setting of the sun, she’d look wistfully out to sea.
It wasn’t until my sixteenth year that I knew I wanted something more. Just as my mother had left her hut and wandered to the shore, I knew that there would be a ship. And there was. I didn’t really want to leave her – the other islanders didn’t visit her anymore. But I had to go. I guess it was my father’s blood that called me to him.
‘Alexander, don’t go,’ she said to me as we watched the ship come in. We both knew this ship wouldn’t pass. The islanders had a knack about knowing these things and even though I was half islander, I still couldn’t see in the way my mother could. ‘I’ll never see you again.’
I kept silent. It hurt me to see her lose another family member, but the longing to go was stronger than the need for air after a long dive.