NaNoWriMo Day 21

I went to the library yesterday and borrowed about a dozen books for my research. By the end of the weekend I'll have a list of others I want to buy. I figure if I'm going to spend three years analysing them I'll want to writing notes in the margin - can't do that with library books. When NaNo finishes I'll begin compiling the annotated bibliography and doing the literature review. I'm really looking foward to it, but I've made myself put it away for a while. I'll keep reading and making notes but it won't be my focus until after NaNo.

Making that decision and getting that little bit organised has helped me get back into my book as well. I've struggled all week to write anything and have only managed around 600-700 words a day. Last night with the issue of the research decided, I wrote 2440 words. Much better. I'm hoping for 3000-4000 each day this weekend to get me back on track for hitting the 50000 by the end of next week.

I created another wordle from what I wrote last night. I like the wordles: they give you an idea of what is happening without showing how bad the writing is because I haven't thought about it much or edited it.

NaNoWriMo Day 19

I've had a week of 600 word days. A lot of that is because I've been focused on some research and trying to pull a proposal together out of thin air. I've reread a lot of material from a year or two ago and started working on the context and purpose of the study but there's still heaps to do, and an interview to get through tomorrow.

As far as my novel is concerned, I've been playing with Wordle. What a fantastic procrastination tool. I think it could also be used to help with quicksand plots too. Just putting a couple of paragraphs into Wordle and letting it do its thing could bring a whole new idea to light. Check out the wordle I created from the first couple of paragraphs of the novel. What pictures does it bring to mind? What assumptions can you make about where the story and characters are heading?

Image (cc) Wordle.

NaNoWriMo Day 15

I wrote just over 3000 words today, going just past the 30000 word mark. I probably could have done more if I'd forced myself to stay at the computer but I work better if my mind gets to percolate ideas for a while in between writing jags. Today I've written both a sex scene and a panic attack, both highly emotional things. I haven't portrayed the emotion at all well and I'm not looking forward to editing it to put it all in.

Sometimes I think there's just too much emotion in the world and not enough of just sucking it up and getting the damned job done.

A lot of my friends and family shake their heads at me and tell me I have too much testosterone to be a real woman. I wonder if I'm supposed to go through life on an emotional roller coaster, never be able to make a logical decision and be totally drained at the end of every day. I much prefer the ordered routine I have where I have plans of action for possibilities and fix problems logically and calmly.

No excerpt again today. The writing's not good enough to share.

NaNoWriMo Day 14

I missed the deadline to add my word count to the NaNo website last night. I wrote until about 12.30am and my word count for the day added onto today's record. That's disappointing, mostly because I don't like seeing that records show I didn't do any work one day but also because I passed the magical half-way mark (25000 words) and when I put my entry in tonight, there's not going to be a record of exactly that time. I know - build a bridge.

At my writers' meeting last night we talked briefly about what to do when the plot stalls and you don't know where to go. One of the girls suggested changing the morality of one of the characters. I thought about that for a while, trying to decide who it would work best with, what way their morality could change and how it would work best. That's where I got 1500 words last night in just on an hour. That small change has also given me the set-up for the next chapter and a way for all the major characters to begin to deal with their internal conflicts. What a fantastic way to get things moving again.

I'm not putting an excerpt in today. As I've become less sure of where I'm going with the book, my writing has become less ... less everything. There is the occasional phrase that's pretty good, but the rest is telling, not showing and, basically, absolute rubbish.

NaNoWriMo Day 13

I'm to the stage where I'm so tired I can't remember what day it is. It took me a full five seconds to realise that the date is also the day we're in on NaNoWriMo. I suppose it goes with putting my Berocca tablet into my cup of tea this morning instead of in the glass of water beside it.

November is one of the busiest months at work and having my book stuck in my head constantly has made it more difficult to concentrate and get things done. I'm also not sleeping well, barely getting five hours a night this week. I think I'll sleep in tomorrow morning before going to a write-in. I'll be in a place where I have no choice but to sit and write. Hopefully that means I'll get a lot done.

What I wrote last night is rubbish so I'm not putting it up here. Today's extract is from the middle of a previous chapter. As usual it's not great writing but it's not the rubbish I wrote last night either.

When Starr came here, he came face to face with his childhood. Every time. He knew Natch loved to play with that. When Starr walked in there Natch would be sitting behind his desk with the thick crop beside his hand.
Starr entered the corridor, strode to the end and went down the stairs. He never hesitated. Not now. He had once. Only once. He knocked briefly on the double sized black door and pushed it open. Once he was in front of Natch’s desk he stopped, hands clasped over his crotch in a futile attempt to protect it.
It was long minutes before the fleshy man on the other side of the desk looked up.
“You’ve been busy Starr.”
Starr nodded but kept his mouth shut. Natch had plenty more to say yet and Starr needed to find out what he was supposed to have done wrong this time.
“I’ve been getting reports in from all over about you and your pyromaniac tendencies.”
Starr frowned. He had no idea what Natch was talking about. He hadn’t set fire to anything since his last visit here. Not unless you counted Freema’s ship.
“Those were your pirates?” When Natch glared at him, Starr realised that one question had earned him a beating. Not that it took much to convince Natch he should beat Starr.
The crop was snatched up as Natch pushed himself up from his chair. Starr almost didn’t feel the first slice; his suit protecting his upper arms. The second one landed across his chest as Natch rounded his desk. The third, across his abdomen and crossed forearms.

NaNoWriMo Day 11

I almost didn't write anything today. I had a super busy day at work and then a job interview that I'd only had 24 hours to prepare for and was exhausted by the end of it. Not having a clue where my story had to go from where it was didn't help either. Then I get onto my blog and find my widgit from a few days ago has gone. I'll worry about it later.

But I sat down at the computer about an hour ago and told myself that I was going to write 500 words, even if it was all rubbish. So I've now written 1400 words and moved my characters forward another step. It's not great writing but the bones are there.

Here's today's excerpt:
“We’re not stowaways,” exclaimed Freema indignantly. “You rescued us.”
“You didn’t leave at Tolifax, told no one you were here. In the eyes of governmental law, that makes you stowaways, whether the pilot is aware of you or not.”
Lonnar nodded. This obviously wasn’t news to him.
Freema looked devastated.
“What?” Starr asked. “Didn’t you consider you might be breaking a law just by staying on board?”
She shook her head, her eyes welling. Then she broke down into noisy tears, her hands covering her mouth, making the sobs echo weirdly in her mouth.
“Jeesis.” Starr landed on his knees beside her, leaning over her lap, drawing her body close to him.
Lonnar leaned around her from behind, his arms looped over her shoulders and around Starr's head, holding them all in a fierce embrace.
And overhead, a haunting melody began. Eventually Starr recognised it as Bussey’s Luna, the prelude Starr often played to go to sleep by. He almost broke out of the hug to tell Brett to turn it off, but he felt comfortable; comforting and comforted at the same time and he didn’t want to move.
Manipulative bastard.

NaNoWriMo Day 9

Today's been difficult. I realised at lunch time I'd totally forgotten about applying for a job I wanted to apply for and had to write responses to ten selection criteria in a bit more than two hours with about one hour to plan. I don't expect to short-list, but that's not because I rushed the application. I don't have the experience they want, just the qualifications. We'll see.

Anyway, after all that writing I couldn't stay sitting at the computer and switch to NaNo. I needed a break. And then I needed a longer break. Consequently I haven't written a lot tonight. I pushed myself til I broke the 20000 word mark and then I stopped. One more chapter down. It's a dreadful chapter - all choppy and missing bits but it's the best I could do today. I'll work on it again tomorrow before starting the next chapter, maybe fill in some of the missing bits - as soon as I work out what they are.

And today's excerpt:
 “Starr, you need to come back to the bridge.”
“Kryste, can’t a man take a piss without being interrupted?” Starr finished, then squirted cleansing gel on his hands as he left the bathroom. “This better be important Brett because I really don’t want to have to deal with anything more from you three right now.”
“It’s important.” Brett’s voice sounded more serious than it had since they’d lost nearly half their ship in the fight to rescue Freema.
Starr started running.
Three ships filled the view-screen. “What the fuck is this about?” Starr exclaimed.
“They were waiting for us,” Brett said.
Jeesis. They weren’t where they were supposed to be. They’d told no one what they were doing beyond the first jump, yet three pirate ships knew enough to be sitting there waiting for them when they came out of the second unplanned jump.
“Can you read anything, Brett?”
“They’re Natch’s men.”
Starr flicked a look at Lonnar but the older man was standing beside Freema staring out the view-screen. He had a fierce frown on his face and his fists were clenched by his sides.
Freema slipped into Starr's chair and pushed her hands into the control manacles. “Brett, what do you think their reaction would be if we did this?” She punched in code as she spoke.
“I think at least two of them would shoot each other and the other one’s pilot would probably shit his pants,” replied Brett.
“What are you two talking about?” Starr demanded. “Freema, get out of my seat. And Brett, stop encouraging her.” He began to walk over to his seat but at that moment an orange light flared on the hull of one of the ships.