NaNoWriMo Week 2, (day 8), 13337

08 Nov

The first couple days of NaNoWriMo made me worry.  I wasn’t worried that I had nothing to write about.  My worry was so totally the opposite: that I would write so much, so damn much!

To explain:  I had more than one perfectly valid idea.  I think I listed four before, and I could have worked on a fifth, even.  I chose one that I really wanted to get down on paper before the characters totally faded from my brain.  I didn’t choose one because I wasn’t sure I knew quite where it was going and I didn’t have enough yet in my head prepared.  I didn’t want to pick character names and things on the fly.  I wasn’t sure where that plot was going to end up.

So I wrote a long blog trying to decide what to pick, and I picked Blythe’s story, which I had been working in my head for a couple of years at least.  I picked it logically, and for reasons.

What does reason have to do with anything?  Nothing, apparently.  Within the first couple days, I was thrilled, wanted to blog (read: brag) about my smooth progress, my new direction in Blythe’s story, my three-day weekend during which I felt like a writer.  So I wanted to write, then write about my writing, and worse, I wanted to work on another novel.

Yes, folks, that is what my gift to myself was.  We WriMo’s like to reward ourselves for finishing our daily goals.  Last year, I tried daily chocolate, but that didn’t encourage me to write.  This year, I told myself I could WORK ON ANOTHER BOOK.


I’m already taking on a goal of writing much more regularly than I ever manage to do on my own, with a six page a day requirement to keep up, and when I’m done with that, I can play with my zombie book, the one I chose not to write for NaNoWriMo because it wasn’t quite ready to go yet.

I’ve taken notes of lots of thoughts, made a Scrivener project out of scene ideas, and had hysterics because I have no idea how it is going to end because I’ve created a situation where no one is really going to get out alive, and I’m thrilled about it.

If’ I didn’t have to get up at five thirty for work tomorrow, I’d probably be working on it right now.  I did write down a couple of lines earlier, though.  Honestly.  There’s about 1300 words in the Scrivener project, about eight or nine scenes and a few characters with names and backgrounds, and a few others with “guy who leaves” or “bitten dude they locked up” instead of names.

I suppose it’s hilarious that I want to write and blog and write some more.  Something infectious and magical runs through me in November.

(And now that I’ve forgotten how to write a coherent post, goodnight.)

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Posted by on November 8, 2011 in Uncategorized


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