1. I never meant to hurt anyone; I just forgot how deeply mortals fall in love.
2. He stubbornly insisted toast was the best destiny for bread, so whenever he wasn’t looking she made bread pudding.
3. The stars go on forever. No matter how powerful a lens they build, instead of darkness they find even more distant light. It’s too big, too vast, and they smash the observatories and burn the records until they feel large again.
4. She found him by the side of the road trying not to cry.
5. The castle is enchanted or cursed, depending on which story you listen to, but either way no one steps foot with the grounds anymore.
To Do List
The main failing for me this NaNoWriMo was that I didn’t get anything written outside of the Saturday write-ins. Since that’s pretty much all of the time, it’s something I definitely need to work on before next year! (Or next Camp)
So the goal for this week is to write at least 50 words per day Monday-Friday. Right now I’m not making any rules other than it has to be on an existing work. It could be new prose, editing, outlining, DVD Extras… whatever gets words on paper.
If that works, I’ll add another 50 words –and then another 50, and another– until I hit a comfortable limit.
If all goes well, I’d like to be writing and editing (and posting) at least one 1k serial story a week on a regular basis in 2014. I don’t see anyway I can pull that off unless I’m writing M-F as well as the weekends, so time to get started!
*picks up her teaspoon and eyes the mountain* Never give up! Never surrender!!
1. Snow so soft and fine it feels like feathers again her face.
2. Spying was much less exciting than the magazines made it out to be. Their neighborhood was bereft of supervillains, covert operations, and even petty theft. On the whole they were terribly ordinary and horribly boring adults.
3. The sandstorm scours the dragon clean and the whistling grunts of Tyslor’s happiness echo across the sands– even in the roar of the storm the army can surely hear them.
4. Counting cars helps to pass the time, but blue cars seem to easy so the game quickly devolves into ‘cars with model names starting with R’ and ‘cars with license plates from states ending in A’.
5. It’s the last thing anyone wants, but it’s still better than doing nothing at all.
1. Good intentions are all we have left and we’re all going to hell anyway… it might as well be paved.
2. There’s a shadow on the moon, wide lemon yellow wings that cup the air and turn the valley to gold.
3. Being forty is pretty much the same as being any other age, you look back, wonder how you could have been so stupid and look forward thinking you’ll do it right this time. Which is pretty much the same thing you were doing at thirty and the same thing you’ll be doing at fifty.
4. Slivers of glass still litter the floor, fanned out from the picture’s impact point in a painful reminder that Heather really wasn’t coming back this time.
5. ‘Calculating and cold’ seems to be the general gist of the yearly reviews and he wonders what they’d been expecting in someone remolding civilians for war.
Alas, Poor Novel
November is rapidly fading into the distance and my wordcount has been pretty much stagnant save for small rallying attempts on Saturdays.
Writing 50,000 words in a month is a lot of fun! It gets rough proto-stories out of your head and on paper. It brings new worlds and new characters to life in one giant bolt of electricity– and the best part is there are a bunch of other people in the midst of their own storms as well.
But this year every time I sit down to work on this year’s story all I can think of are all the Frankenstein’s Monsters that already stumble around in my workroom.
I like this year’s story, I do! It’s turning into this really sideways stab at storytelling that’s fun to outline and write. I have a cast of supporting characters that grabbed the reins and demanded PoVs of their own and a plotline that went from simple to insane in the space of a few hours.
But I’m not going to hit 50,000 words, in fact I might not hit 25,000 unless this weekend turns out to be more productive than expected (I’m at roughly 13k now).
What I am going to do with the rest of this month is sit down, take a look at my projects, get a list of what I have and how much work is left… and then start planning out how to finish them.
Next year I’m doing NaNo without feeling guilty.
1. Iron rusts, wood burns, stone crumbles, until all that’s left are the ghosts.
2. Evening is the only time the song stops, as if the forest has paused for breath before beginning the nightly verses.
3. “You haven’t thought this through at all, have you.”
“My version of an acceptable solution is different than yours, that’s all.”
“It’s a meaningless sacrifice–”
4. Harsh red lights cut through the growing darkness, slicing back and forth through the fog in frantic loops as the hunters try and pinpoint the pack.
5. Simplify, simplify, simplify—she cuts away at her life, paring it down to the raw necessities of survival, the very smallest values of self– and still it’s not enough.
1. Rough scaly skin caught the light, drawing the dragon’s outline in sharp shattered lines.
2. January is a long and dreary month. The suns spends its days sulking behind thick grey clouds that don’t snow, but don’t let enough heat through to melt the ice.
3. They can see the future, but it’s muddles with echoes of probabilities. At best they can tell you what is more likely to happen, in descending order, until the visions are too faint to tell apart.
4. Horses and cattle thunder through the pass, kicking up a massive dust cloud that blots out the sun and leaves them blinded. Somewhere in the chaos one of the hands is trampled and screams– and the frantic rush to safety turns into a full out stampede.
5. There are only seven stars left in the sky and they name them one by one, a nightly ritual against the day when there’ll be nothing left at all.
1. The only rule in war is to stay alive and stay free—but survival’s not enough, not anymore.
2. Spiders dance in the moonlit sky, spinning and swooping on the night winds that turn their silk sails into wings.
3. “She stood here once, cup of coffee in hand and told me I’d never amount to anything.” He looked across the ruined kitchen, “She was right, I guess.”
“It’s a little hard to be a lawyer in the middle of a zombie apocalypse,” his sister shrugged.
4. Porters ferry them from place to place and for a while he feels like a sheep surrounded by indifferent dogs. He wonders what they’d really do if he just jumped off the sled, but he’s seen what’s left of her scars.
5. It might have been a mountain once, before time and long-forgotten tides wore it away. She stood at the edge of the black sand and looked up at the hill, searching for what could have been.
Once more into the Blank!
I had plans to plan, I really did! Great glorious plans that would have turned NaNo into a ‘paint by numbers’ where all the plotting was done ahead of time.
I wouldn’t spend November in a constant chase of ‘yes, but what happens next‘, I wouldn’t have to retcon anything, or add ninjas, or invoke the Traveling Shovel of Death– because I would have done all of that in October.
But now that we are only three days from NaNoWriMo, I think it’s time to finally admit that I’m not going to get my planning done.
Or even started, really.
In fact I haven’t written a single index card, or mind map, or random plot doodle– I have a whole lot of nothing waiting for me come Friday morning. I have five semi-solid characters mulling about in my head and that’s about it.
But I have Friday off, so I’m hoping the first three-day weekend can be spent in a mad dash of Getting Things Done that will make up for all of October.
It should be a fun ride!
1. Kiwis look more like muppets than birds.
2. The stars are finally close enough to touch and he holds them in his hands, tiny sparks that burn with everlasting fire and slowly thaw him from the dark.
3. Feng Shui dictates every aspect of her apartment. From the colors to the positioning, each detail is carefully controlled– even the materials are checked and balanced in the comforting spiritual equations.
4. My life, my dreams, are nothing but kindling to the world. I’ll be dead and gone before anything I set in motion truly catches fire.
5. Fences carve up the countryside into tiny fiefdoms, reigned over by the High Court of Cats and the Low Court of Dogs. At least until the Low Court learns how to climb.