December 1, 2010

Final word count: 14,783

I remember NaNo as it was in college. Or, at least, the way they told me it was. Countless pots of coffee and hour long sessions at Panera, or the CX. A group of fervent writers, huddled in a mass around their laptops, casually throwing out a lewd joke to break the tension when it started to get too quiet. The constant watch of passersby, wondering what kind of study group warranted the intense silence broken only by "Gah! Plot bunny!" Homework somehow found itself in the back seat. Eating became something you forgot to do. Tempers flared, relationships groaned under the strain. 50,000 or more words were painstakingly plunked out toward victory.

Back then it was glamorous. Because then we were sheltered. Because then we were like-minded--we all understood. If you're behind on word count, I'll cover your shift. I'll send you some cliff notes. We'll all forget about it come December. Everything is excusable during NaNo.

NaNoWriMo 2010 concluded as of 12:00AM last night--or this morning, if you prefer. At the end of it all, the one thing I can say for sure is I wish I'd done it back then. I wish I'd holed up in my dorm and fervently wrote. Because I'm only realizing now how much I've missed out on by waiting.

In the last month, coffee came in abundance. My social life took a hard left turn to seclusion. Dinner rarely got cooked--I took most my meals in my room, and most of them were originally neatly packaged and frozen. My relationship creaked under the weight. Tempers were at an all time high. And somehow, somewhere in the middle of it all, I came to the conclusion that I am avoiding clinical depression by my shear determination to be functional. Also known as the skin of my teeth.

50,000 words, however, did not happen. When I told people, my co-workers at the dental office in particular, what I was doing... their reactions seemed to treat it like a funny little pass time. Something you do on the weekends, like baking or DnD. Like a joke. Nothing has gotten under my skin more this month than that attitude. I decided early on that I was going to prove them all wrong. I was going to go beyond 50K, just to prove to the world that I could do it.

I reread my first post now and I feel like a traitor to my bright-eyed, hopeful self. I've let her down. I remember my high-school-self, my undergraduate-self... I've let them down too. Three people--my boyfriend, my mother, and my lone commenter Megan--have all urged me forward with the same consolation: that I've done more in the month than I've done in a year, and that alone is a start.

I find my hope in the fact that I am unsatisfied with that being all there is.

It's too late for NaNo 2010. It's too late for the NaNo's of years past, the college years, and the better times. But it's not too late to prove everyone, including myself, wrong. It's never too late to stand atop the mountain of November 1st, shouting to the world that I'm here, that I will conquer.

Because I've learned for me, this is the only option. The only thing holding me up is the strength of my grip on my own bootstraps. All that's left now is to push through.

Public apology

Okay, so.... I had a moment.

It's NaNo--moments happen.

A friend of mine, who I will be honest I had no idea was such a good friend, posted a comment on my post from last evening. I hope I'm not embarrassing or drawing unwanted attention to her. But I feel I need to say a special thank you. She is someone who understands and put herself out there when she saw me feeling let down and frustrated.

As for everyone else reading... I realize some of you may be more supportive than I'm aware of. Maybe we just don't talk enough, one-on-one, and it's hard for you to reach out to me. I get that. Since coming to Lawrence, I've had a hard time making friends. I used to be so good at it in college. And now for some reason I'm afraid to put myself out there. But that doesn't mean I should make it your responsibilities to be there for me when you hardly know me.

I'm planning on changing that. There are many of you I know care a great deal for me and are just waiting for a chance to sit down, grab a beer (or a bottle of wine) and get to know me better. I'm also hoping that even after my frustrations being posted so blatantly, you're still willing to give me that chance.

If I called you out last night, if I offended you or made you feel like I just don't get it... if I gave you any reason to wonder, "why the hell am I friends with her" then I apologize.

I needed to let off steam, and my venues for that seem to be a bit constipated as of late. I have one friend who is still incredibly close to me, and she lives 2-3 hours away. So when I need someone to turn to, I guess it feels like maybe the wide world of the Internet is all I have.

I'm not harboring any hatred for anybody. I'm not saying that I will continue to write my blog. I will, however, continue to write. If you don't hear from me between now and December 1st, it doesn't mean I terminated all that was dear to me. Sometime at the end of November, you can expect a post that says whether I made it or not.

But at the moment, I need to take a break. I obviously don't have my head in the right place, and I don't want to ruin my chances at having relationships with any of you.

Pulling the plug

Day: #17
Word count: 13,806

I used to know this guy. We had a thing. Like many, it came and went, and won't ever be revisited. Nothing about it was perfect. In fact, it sucked. To be downright, brutally honest, it tore my 20-something heart out.

But I remember we used to talk about my writing. We'd lay down, stare at the ceiling, and he would just let me go. I remember my excitement--how completely open and free I felt, sitting there gushing to him all my ideas and dreams. He never got tired of it. I don't know how, maybe he was just being nice. But he'd let me talk and talk and talk until it was way past time to drive home. He just listened, sometimes offered advice or a reader's opinion. But the one thing he did that stood out above everything else was he encourage me, he supported me.

I miss him. I miss somebody, that for all other intents and purposes, I utterly hate. Because he had sense enough to give a shit about the one thing that meant more to me than anything in this world.

The one thing everyone who's done NaNo can say is this: you learn more than you'd expect to. About writing, about yourself, and even about those around you.

I've learned my writing still means everything to me. I could die tomorrow, without a page to my legacy, and I think that alone could be my reason for going to hell. Because I would cling to life, terrified, afraid to go in either direction, solely because my one dream never became a reality.

I've learned I need people like that one guy, all those years ago. No, it's not the way writing gets done. It has to be for yourself. But support, to me, is ridiculously necessary. I need someone cheering me on. I need somebody else to care.

I've learned the only person who genuinely cares is my father. For this, I love him all the more. He doesn't read my blog. He's never read my writing. But he's told me that his favorite thing about me is my writing. My creativity, my passion, my drive--the thing that got me through college, that kept me blindly dreaming through bad jobs and missteps.

The further in NaNo I get, the more it seems to be most people don't give a flying fuck about this. Not even remotely. They take it as a joke, as just another flash in the pan attempt. Do you want me to crawl into my little slice of suburbia and die slowly, plagued by meaningless jobs and unfulfilled desires? Yes, I set out to make this fun. Hence the blog. But I never once took this as a joke.

I kidded around that I would rather be playing Bioshock. Well who the hell wouldn't? It's a great game! And when I explained to a friend that I had 50K of a novel to write so I can publish, her response was that I should just give in. Thanks friend. Glad my lifelong dream registers that high on your scale.

In general, this is the type of response everyone's been giving me. And if not this, then utter disinterest. Thanks for "following" my blog I guess. I didn't want a number, I wanted a support system.

The fact is, I created this blog to have fun. But I also created it so that the people who cared might be there for me. Now it's only become a crushing reminder of how alone I am out here. I never started this with the intent of it becoming some bitching, pissing diatribe about how much my life and my friends suck.

So I'm pulling the plug. Because I know tomorrow the world I know will go on as if nothing has been lost. And I can't help but wonder if somehow, off in another time and place... his heart is breaking as much as mine.

Good-night world. Today, I feel you have done me a great injustice.

Uneventful post #1

Day: #15
Word count: 13,575

My cat makes me feel like an evil genius

Day: #14
Word count: 13,063

Too bad my word count doesn't quite reflect that. Though I'm in double digits, I'm finding it's getting harder and harder to just crank stuff out.

My brain literally rebels against it

(Copyright note: that image, once again, borrowed from Hyperbole and a Half. Go read it!)

Another weekend down and I'm starting to hate not actually having a weekend.

All work and no play makes Meg a....

GAH! JACK NICHOLSON! That was a terrible movie. Great book, though.

But I digress. Suffice to say, things are not moving along as quickly as I thought they would. I figured once I got into to Junction City, it would start rolling like a hot rod. It feels more like...

I thought taking a break would have helped. Unfortunately, it's only served to make my brain all the more exhausted every time I look at the computer.

*casts sodden look at towel in hand, debating*

Not just yet... 15 more days to go.

Steampunk revolution

Day: #13
Word count: 11,171

I finally broke 10K. Granted, to be on top of things I need to be another 10K along by the end of tomorrow...

But nevertheless, I broke the 10K mark. I'm a week late in doing so, but it could be worse I guess.

Maybe I'm still catching up on the sleep I lost this week. Maybe I'm just burned out beyond belief, to the point I'm not even fully away of it. But I once again cannot make myself stay up. I just don't have it in me.

But vacation(s) are fast approaching. I get to spend this upcoming weekend with my co-writer and best buddy! Not to mention:

YES!!! It is Harry Potter 7: Pt 1 premier this weekend! Who's got two thumbs and is excited?

*points* This chick.

Still, with any luck some writing will get done. And with her at my side, hopefully she will be able to give a pointer or two when I get caught up.

Not much to say tonight. The title comes from the fact that I am now in Junction City and the town has suddenly gotten a major makeover.

Yes, ladies and gents, I have officially made J City "steampunk." If you don't know what it is, look it up. I did it mainly for the costuming options, which are tres cool. Migel and Quinn (the next two main characters who will be introduced in this town) are also getting some new revamped looks. If I can find some kind of program that allows me to do costume design and then share it online, I will post the new looks once I have a chance.

Needless to say, my brain is ready but my body is unwilling, yet again. But with this new look and feel to Abeo's capitol, I am totally jazzed to explore the city even more! Hopefully 21K will be within shouting distance when I post tomorrow.

Good night moon :)

Just a little more background

Day: #12
Word count: 9,491

It's not even 10:30 and I'm ready to pass out. I just--JUST!--had Starbuck's. Espresso is losing its effect on me! What am I going to do?!

I don't have it in me to pull an all nighter. I wish I did. Especially because I'm really excited, albeit a little daunted, by the next segment! I'm soooo ready to get going. This is where the story really takes off! I can't wait.

But alas... I am exhausted. Starbuck's, you have failed me.

So here are some things you may be wondering about the story now that you've heard a little about the main characters.

The religious system for this universe is a lot like Native American/Greek mythology. There's pretty much a god or goddess for everything. Overseeing it all are the two Mothers: one who encompasses all that is light, the other all that is dark (dark not meaning "evil" in this sense... just balance, yin&yang, etc). In creating their world, they each had their own tidbits they threw in to make things interesting. However, the Hilmeuby are the "chosen" race because they are supposedly the only people created by both Mothers. In other words, they're the perfect "joint effort."

The Hilmeuby obviously multiplied and split into tribes as time went by. Prior to the war, the country they resided in was Morra: a peninsula practically cut in two by a canyon called the Ryari Igrya (translates "valley of the blessed") and bordered to the north by a mountain range. When the war broke out between those who could use magic and believed sternly in the religion that followed the Mothers, and those who decided to use their time creating machines and forgoing nature and piousness, the Hilmeuby sided with the former though chose not to fight. A majority of them were slaughtered in cold blood.

The last remnants of them formed the final tribe of Luani. Luani, of course, had been established prior to this, but it was pretty much the last village standing. After the war was ceased by both sides--basically, they were too evenly matched to succeed in killing each other--they divided the land between the two armies. To the north of the Ryari Igrya, the believers in magic formed Caelestis. To the south, the machinists created Abeo. Luani, rather unfortunately, was already established in the south by the time the land claims were made.

The capitol of Caelestis is Bren. However, we're not that far yet. The capitol of Abeo is, you guessed it! Junction City. Which is exactly where we're at now. Once the war ended, those who run Junction City have made their goal to buy and establish all the land around them. Considering only their followers now live on this side of the valley, the task has been relatively easy. Except for Luani. Hence the initial conflicts this tiny little village must face from the opening of the novel.

Luckily... or rather, very very unluckily, they don't have to deal with it for much longer. Seeing as how those who run J. City get fed up and just decided to decimate the village.

I am a wrathful god :( 

So that's the dictionary definition of things I guess. More or less the prologue with a bit of the first few chapters added in. I'm going for full burn tomorrow and Sunday, so we'll see how far I can get. But for now:

No, I'm not dead yet

Day: #12
Word count: unchanged
Current time: 7:33 AM

Someone asked me why I haven't posted in two days. Suffice to say I have been dealing with things that go beyond NaNo. It's all been wrapped up now in a package that is far from nice and neat--more like a truck ran over it and it got left in the rain for a few hours--but it's good enough for me to persevere forward.

By the end of this weekend, my word count needs to be somewhere in the 21K range. I haven't even made it to 10K. But luckily I'm at a jumping off point--somewhere where I know the words will just get rolling. I get to introduce new characters and a whole new dynamic into the mix that I love writing and playing with. For the most part, it should be more of a breeze than the rest has been thus far.

I have to be at work at 8:00, I leave at 12:00 after much disgusting cleaning that you would shudder to hear about. I will be tired, I will smell bad. So I have allowed myself time for a small nap and a shower. But after that point, I am strapping in. Holing up in my room with snacks and caffeinated beverages galore. I will try to update each day again since apparently someone misses me :)

For now... Golden Grahams and OJ.

The Heroes

Day: #9
Word count: 9,070

I could write more tonight. Honestly, I'm actually up for it. But there's something holding me back. Unless you're my co-writer, or someone who may have read part of this in the past, you won't entirely know what I'm talking about.

Junction City has arrived. Finally, after all this typing, I'm there. To be honest, I feel like I should be on chapter 8 instead of 6. Which in and of itself is a learning experience--the story, while meatier than the original draft, is still missing some ingredients to make it a full rich novel. But the point, at the moment, is to just get through. To just get going, get in the habit, learn to write for writing and don't look back until you've gone leaps and bounds ahead. That's how I always did it in the past, right?

Anyway, Junction City. A big turning point in the story, because it's the first time new characters get added. Or at least, characters you will be seeing often. Gears shift, some fun stuff goes down. And frankly, I'm not ready to start it just yet. Not because I don't want to, or it's too overwhelming. But because it's almost 10:00 and I have to be in bed soon. This I am sure, for once, will be a writing session someone will have to tear me away from on pain of death. Because once I get going, the chapters will come flying out.

I've waited for this moment... forever....

But less about that, more about the post title. I haven't given you any new tidbits about the actual story, so I thought I'd let you know a little bit about the people we've met thus far (in the novel you haven't actually read :) ).

Name: Rayne Ohri
Age: ?? (used to be 17, thinking of raising it closer to 20)
Race: Hilmeuby (tribe unknown)
Background: Rayne, though a true Hilmeuby, is not in fact Luanian. His parents migrated from a northern village when the war began, trying to make their way safely across enemy lines to the last civilization of the Hilmeuby. But Rayne grew up hearing the stories of their journey only from his grandparents, having never known his mother and father. And very little was ever said about how they died.
Rayne is by nature a gruff, solitary boy. He spends most of his time avoiding social situations, finding his peers to be mostly immature and lazy. His time in the village is dedicated to the study of Rutumy--a martial art developed and known only by the Hilmeuby. Barely two weeks pass from his coming of age induction into the tribe and the utter destruction of his village. Rayne regresses into himself, brooding most of his time away as he tries to find the people responsible for the Hilmeuby genocide.

Name: Firryn Sidana
Age: same as above
Race: Hilmeuby Luanian
Background: Firryn, like her companion Rayne, is also an orphan. Her father was many of the Hilmeuby warriors who died in the war against modernization. Her mother and eldest sister, Migel, lived together in Luani until Firryn was 5. Her mother, realizing her husband would never return, wasted away with heartbreak until her death. Firryn's sister left two years later for Junction City, leaving Firryn in the care of a neighbor woman. Around the age of 16, she also went to Junction City at the request of her eldest sister and spent over a year helping her before returning to Luani. This also reunited her with her middle sister, Kayt.
Firryn is generally a bouncy, spunky girl who considers herself exceptionally clever. Though she's intelligent, she often masks this by succumbing to her frustration and throwing a tantrum. She likes to bait people to get a rise out of them, and often has a gaggle of girls trailing after her throughout the village. But after Luani is destroyed and she and Rayne must strike out on their own, she begins to realize her time in Luani may have been wasted by being frivolous.

How do they know each other? Well, pretty simple, they grew up in the same village. You might guess by the obvious clash in personalities that these two don't really mesh well. Firryn loves to taunt Rayne and seems to enjoy being around him almost too much. Whereas Rayne primarily considers Firryn childish and the bane of his existence. What happens when you throw these two together into unforeseeable circumstances?

Well... if it weren't so tragic, it would actually be like a better version of The Odd Couple. However, seeing as how it is tragic, it only serves to be ever more tragic as time goes by. More on the supporting "actors" later.

Oh, and since it hasn't been mentioned before... Hilmeuby are the originals of this "world/country," where the story takes place. They were the first race ever created. They speak their own language, and are a strange mix of Native American, Japanese, and Indian cultures. But, overall, I rather like the concept of their own people and getting to diversify a little in this universe.

I'm off to bed--hope I've wetted your appetite for more!

Bicvoy! (That's "good-bye" in Hilmeuby ^_^)

Could someone please bring balloons to this pity party?

Day: #8
Word count: 8,490

This is the point in NaNo where this starts happening:

I'm honestly contemplating taping one of these to my keyboard. At least that way my word count would go up every time I smack into it in utter frustration and self-loathing.

I suppose the truth at this point is pretty simple. I've done next to no writing over the last year, and now hitting it full force is burning me out. And burning me out 10x quicker than doing this over the course of the last year would have. All I want to do is take just one little break. Just one night off. But the fact is, I was behind by about 3.5K on Sunday, and now that it's Monday it's almost another day down the drain. It keeps piling and piling... and somehow 300 words behind turned into so far behind that I'm starting to think I won't make it.

You could argue that ultimately I've accomplished something thus far. I've started writing again, consistently every night, even if it's only 90 words there or 1000 here. But if I don't make my NaNo count I will be utterly crushed. Why? I couldn't tell you. It's not like its ever mattered before.

Maybe because I need to finish something for me, to prove I'm still an autonomous individual capable of devoting time to me and my ambitions. But my ambitions are exhausting. Why couldn't I have picked stamp collecting for a hobby?

I'm starting to think certain people take all this as a joke. Well, tonight I'm here to remind you through my fit of defeat and complete utter annoyance at the world that it--is--not.

NaNoWriMo, yes, to some degree, is a joke. A lot of people enter, a lot of people win, who spend November writing a novel full of crap and plot holes and bad writing. But this isn't about NaNo (lest we forget my declaration against it in my first post), it's about my novel. I'm using the parameters of NaNo as a challenge to myself to help propel me forward.

But what I'm trying to do is not a joke. If you don't take it seriously, if you don't take me seriously, now would be a good time to back out. Because from here on in, it's going to get ugly. I'm going to get mean, nasty, frustrated, and unbearable.

Tonight is officially my "night off." I'm still behind on word count, but I'm calling it quits an hour early. The last two days have been too much for me and I'm throwing my hands up and walking away before I light something on fire. I hope to report better results tomorrow.

So close, and yet still a little far

Day: #6
Word count: 7,711

Admittedly, I needed to be at 10K by today. Meaning tomorrow I need to be at around 11,670-ish. Meaning between waking up and DnD (yes, I actually finally joined a game... still kind of on speculation, though) at 7:00 I have just under 4K to write. I'm not where I want to be, but I'm further along than I was expecting.

I stayed up on day #5 (Friday) until about 1:30 in the morning. Hence the lack of end-of-day blog, which I figured would happen (hence my preemptive, hedgehog of determined cuteness post). It's the latest I've been up, for a writing related reason, in a long time. Exhausted though I was this morning, I felt pretty damn good.

However, at the moment, I don't feel that great at all. I've had way too much coffee that has not helped to keep me awake and writing, but rather has given me a profuse headache. So tomorrow I think it will be water and the occasional cup of decaffeinated tea. I've spent my whole Saturday hunched over my computer, furiously typing away.

My mother brought something to my attention, so I figured I would throw it out there to anyone else still reading. If you want to read my NaNo, you are welcome to. But I have a few conditions:

1) Kacey (my co-writer and best friend) reads it first, always. Once I have her two cents and I have edited it all together sufficiently, it is open to the general public.

2) If by "wanting to read it," you mean have a fun time with a good story... okay, I accept that. But if you're willing to put in your opinions, offer some suggestions or things you would like to see as a reader, constructive criticism that you can be serious about, I want to hear from you first!

You'll have to wait until the end of NaNo, and you may have to accept that you could be cliff hung considering the novel is actually two NaNo's long. Obviously I'll bring this up again at the end of the month. But for now, just sit back and enjoy the insanity. If there's something I absolutely need help with from you guys, you'll see it here!

In other news, I have added a NaNo mascot. He is merely subbing for my kitty, Apollo, while he stays over for the weekend. His name is Charlie--he belongs to my friend Ash from work. But unlike Apollo, he's not so great about staying out of the way for me to type. And yes, he does have a face hiding under there.

My November 5th post

Day: #5
Word count: ???

No, don't get too excited. My word count hasn't miraculously gone off the charts... yet ^_^ I am about to begin an all night, no holds barred, until-I-can't-keep-my-eyelids-pried-open-anymore writing session. But, seeing as how up until this point I have posted every night, I figured I'd better do this know before we're in the hours of wee.

Especially since those hours will have moved us into day 6, and I'm a sucker for consistency. At least for now.

I've only worked a four hour day and have taken a fairly successful hour and a half nap, followed by delicious curry and some mind preening exercises (also known as watching two episodes of Mythbusters). I'm poised, primed, and ready.

I'll see you on day 6.

System failure

What I achieved this morning:

What I gave Murphy for yesterday:

What I didn't even REMOTELY achieve today:

Day: #4

Word count: 3,197

Yep.

That's right.

..... 90 words....

When I called this thing the NaNo Crisis, I was trying to be funny. I didn't--actually--mean it. I have to admit, even if I threw in the towel now (which I'm not) I will have still made it farther in NaNo than ever before. I think prior to this I last two days before deciding everything I did was crap and I was done.

I'm trying at this point to limit the number of times I can edit a single paragraph before moving on. So far I'm actually doing pretty good. I'm finding a way to accept that it will not be ready for send out on December 1st. Primarily because my co-author still needs to read it and put in her two cents. Let alone the people we will doubtlessly call on for opinions and revisions before subjecting ourselves to the literary world.

On the other hand... I wrote 90 words. I started late, quit early, and spent too much time talking to my bestie on iChat. My evening started out with good intentions. I headed straight to my room when I finished my 10 hour shift.

But that life not ceasing thing is a bitch. And today it really has me down. More so than yesterday because I'm tired and I've worked 36 of my 40 hours for the week, all in the span of four very exhausting days. It also doesn't help that the tension in the office today was annoying palpable. Or that I think I'm developing some deadly, stress induced skin disease.

But tomorrow will be better. I've got work until noon. I can take a power nap, then start anew on catching up first week's word count. Better I guess to fall behind at the start and know you're in trouble than to cruise through the beginning and think for even a moment that you're fine. That leads to slacking off. And that leads to no word count, no NaNo triumph, no fame or glory.

But for now I cling to the hope. 

Can you hear that sound?

It's my rusty writing skills screaming against the strain I'm trying to put them under.

Day: #3
Word count: 3,107

I didn't even write a full page tonight. For reals? I'm losing steam... and fast. Though, today was a terrible day to gauge.

What sucks most about NaNo isn't NaNo in and of itself. The word count, the innumerable cups of coffee, the lost hours of sleep as you rewrite that last paragraph in your head fifty more times even though you know there's no going back... no, that is actually mostly tolerable. At least if you're insane enough to be doing this. No, what really sucks about it is the rest of life refuses to take a hiatus whilst you NaNo your hours away.

Take this morning. I tossed and turned all through the night. No idea why--an explanation has yet to be divined to me by God or Murphy. But suffice to say, I lost sleep, and it wasn't even worth it as you can see by the sluggish word count. My brain woke up at 6:00, an hour before my alarm was set to go off, and my body craved that final hour of blissful rest. But no... no, alas it would not be mine. Not fully. So I shucked off my covers in defeat after hitting the snooze button all of twice in the belief that Starbuck's would soon soothe away the already bad morning.

I've recently changed bank accounts. I'm still awaiting the debit card from my new bank, and my old account has crept down to a mere $5. So I knew a bank visit was in order so that I might obtain the life sustaining goal of overpriced latte goodness. My car needed gas, my stomach needed breakfast, and my work ethic needed caffeine. But another disappointment was to befall me today. 30 minutes into Wednesday, all my hopes and dreams were shattered by a tiny little sign informing me that my new bank's drive thru didn't open until 8:00.

What... the... eff...

What bank doesn't open before 8:00?! This would definitely be the beginning to a Hyperbole style sneaky hate spiral. (Fyi, Hyperbole and a Half is also not mine. Her name is Allie Brosh and she's pretty much the funniest blog on the Internet. I am ashamed to admit I wish I was as good as her. I suppose I started this blog in hopes I could be, but unfortunately I am falling flat. You can find her at: http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/)

Anyway... back the the shitty, non-coffee day from Hades. Long story short (too late), I had to turn myself back around and head home to a cold bowl of cereal that wouldn't last past 10:30 and pitifully take my bottle of pumpkin spice coffee creamer to work in hopes I could make a cup there. After, of course, Sharpie-ing my name all over the cap. Nobody friggin' touches my holiday creamer. I'm currently trying to replace every fluid in my body with it for efficiency.

So, suffice to say my mind has not been in the place for writing at all today. I've spent most of my day trying to snap out of lingering exhaustion. I didn't even come into my studio until 9:30, giving me only an hour to write. What started out as 350 words behind has quickly and staggeringly multiplied into about 1,900 words behind.

Guess it's ridiculously lucky I only work until 12:00 on Fridays and have my weekends to myself. Saturday concludes the first week of NaNo, when word count should be around 10K. 27 days to go and I already feel like that straggler at the back you wished you hadn't brought on the trip.

And now, a perfectly illustrative picture from Hyperbole that gets my point across:

The novel

Day: #2
Word count: 2,522

I have very triumphant music from one of my favorite video games (Final Fantasy VIII) playing on my computer. For those of you who are familiar with the game, it's the: "yay! we got the airship that is super bad ass"song that plays whilst you fly around the world map. I, on the other hand, don't feel very triumphant. According to the laws of daily word count, I should be at around 3,334 words. As you can see by the above... I am not.

I started writing last night around 8:00 and stopped around 10:30. Today I started at 7:00 and stopped around 10:30. Yet somehow, I wrote 200 words LESS tonight than last night. That happens... how? Needless to say, not a good foot to start on. I have to admit, my reason for even quitting before word count has been reached is simply that I'm exhausted. On Tuesdays (and Thursdays, actually) I work from 8:00 in the morning until 7:00 in the evening, with an hour lunch. A 10 hour day that is certainly physically, and often times mentally, challenging. And whether I want to admit defeat or not, my head feels like it's gained 20 pounds that can only be alleviated by the sweet embrace of a pillow.

But first, another entry of insight into what this crazy scheme is all about. What's a writer without a novel? Well... not a writer, actually...

Some basic facts to start:

The first draft of this story began in the summer of 2003. It was a side project myself and my partner (yes, I co-write if you haven't been introduced to this fact yet) started as a means to alleviate writer's block on a totally different project. As a side note, I apparently really like the word alleviate this evening. I was about 15 or 16 at the time, and she only a year younger than me. Three years later, in April of 2006, we found ourselves concluding the first draft. As accomplishing and unexpected as this was, it hasn't exactly made this the most pleasant of projects.

Between the ages of 15 and 19, between high school and college, a huge gear shift happens... and in the midst of that gear shift came the realization that we actually had something here. The problem therein is this: a story you start for fun and a story you intend to publish are drastically different things. Fun stories don't need to have a plot or cohesive anything. Publishable stories pretty much thrive on that. Fun stories are, essentially, and explosion of the god complex I mentioned before. I control your little world, oh characters, and I shall unleash thunderbolts and lightning (very very frightening me! Galileo!).

So there's my first problem. I have to mostly rewrite the beginning so it doesn't come off as two idle teenagers screwing around with nothing better to do. This means deleting a lot of anachronisms, plot holes, and the rabid effects of watching too much anime. It also means adding chapters, putting meat on the bones of what's left once the thing is torn down into the pieces that still have some actual literary value.

My second problem is having to switch the format. If you're at all familiar with online chat room role playing, you can pretty much skip this paragraph. For the rest of you, the basic idea is you introduce your character into a group of characters that are being written by other people. A story of some kind is intended to form through the line-by-line writing system.

My partner and I took that and changed it up a bit in order to write something more "novel-like" in nature, while still getting all the goodies of having back-and-forth banter. Constant tense changing problems aside, I've found this method to be exceptional for dialogue. Over the years we've debated taking another approach, and it's only in the editing that I'm seeing the value of doing so. Because the bottom line is... it's effing ridiculous having to go back and edit this much. Because like it or not, no publishing company can or would take it as is.

At the same time, I couldn't imagine doing it any other way when it comes to the character dynamics. A part of literature I've always been overly critical of in the first place. In other words, it has its ups and downs like anything else. But the downs really are the pits.

At the end of it all, three years later, the total word count reached over 98K. Between April 2006 and now, 3.5 chapters had been re-written + a prologue. A prologue I am debating on getting rid of, even though I like the way it reads. A first chapter that was the point of many an emotional crisis in the spring of 2007, but ultimately remains the best of the lot. A second chapter that was never in the original draft. A third chapter that is so long it eats other chapters for breakfast.

And then we have chapter four...

It sucks. I just finished it, finally, tonight. And it sucks. I absolutely hate it. I've hated it since the third page or so. It started out well, with the best of hopes and intentions to propel the rest of the novel. Then somehow it tanked. And now, faced with a word count, impending collection calls from loan officers, and the reeling sensation I get when I realize I may never accomplish my one freaking dream in the universe... I have climbed my way through the muck and the mire that is chapter four. Just to get it over with, just to be done with the damn chapter that's had me hung up since I first tried to write it. I've spent months thinking over how to fix it.

Tonight, I said a big f*** it. It isn't fixed. It won't be fixed until my partner reads it and puts in her two cents. But at this point, the goal has to be that it's done, not that it's perfect. I've spent this whole time believing that since it is the edit of the original, it has to be spot on ready to publish. I think the average number of times a novel gets edited is about... well, I don't know. Because Google doesn't know. How frightening is that?

So... that's the basics. A novel that, in it's original form, is completely unpublishable despite it's nearly 100K word count. As for plot, characters, and all that juicy good stuff... well, I'm supposed to keep this blog going throughout the month so, can't give everything away.

And now, since I can't think of anything else to provide a photo of, here's a cartoon that's funny but still describes how I'm feeling:

The Author

Day: #1
Word count: 1,329

So... admittedly, I'm not technically an author. But I figure everyone great starts somewhere. And if they get an "about the author" section, why shouldn't I? I mean, hell... I'm the one blogging about all this after all.

Yesterday I gave you the rundown of the plot of this blog. 50K, 30 days, a 9 year project/novel that needs writing. Period. No exceptions. Now I figure it's time to introduce you to me. Assuming you don't already know me.

In other words, this post is an insight about how desperate I am for other people to give a flying rat's ass about me and my struggle for literary fame.

Where to start? I'm 24. I graduated college in May of 2009 under the assumption that I would now go live my adult life outside the safety of graduate school. My goal, not so shockingly, was to spend my time writing. Writing this very novel, in fact. If nothing else, I have to give my current situation a +4 to irony and symmetry.

I've been writing since I could form a sentence. And my love for it came not only from the enjoyment I found, but also from the fact that it garnered me the first positive attention I ever received in grade school. From the students, that is. For the most part, I was a teacher's pet. My horrendous overbite allowed me to develop a personality. The overbite has since been fixed--I now no longer resemble a crocodile. The personality, however, is still as volatile as ever.

So given all this, irony gets another +4 as I work in a dental office. I went to school for writing and English (as in literature, not necessarily linguistics)... and I work in a dental office. The "wtf?" part of this has not escaped me. Though perhaps it has something to do with the lingering trauma of being a tooth-impaired social reject the majority of my youth.

My job, however, is actually quite enjoyable. I get a lot of respect and appreciation; and, as time goes on, my co-workers get to know more and more about me and become marginally invested in my life. I would even go so far as to say I've made friends. I've only lived in Kansas since March, having originally moved from southern Missouri to Kansas City. So friends, thus far, have been hard to come by. Or at least, friends I didn't meet through my current significant other. 

I work as a hygiene assistant; meaning, I clean rooms between patients, sterilize instruments, and generally do whatever the hygienists need. In all honesty, I'm happy to do this because the five of them are possibly the most grateful people I've ever met. I'm honestly starting to believe they fear the day I have to move on to bigger things, even if they're cheering me on the whole way there. And yes, I have been fortunate enough to actually assist the dentist a time or two. Despite assisting through and extraction of a molar, I still don't have any horror stories yet to speak of.

I'm about $25K in debt, and I'm running out of forbearance time on my loans. Maybe that's why I've decided to get my ass in gear. Prayer's of literary recognition and possible movie deal seem, at this point, to be my only way out with food in my fridge.

I'm sarcastic and I take things too far most of the time. As in, yes that was funny but why are you still talking? Short explanations are not my forte. I'm a compulsive editor. Seriously... I've been editing this blog post pretty much all the way through. I'm not joking. And truthfully, I'm still not satisfied with it or sure that anyone beyond my mother would still be reading at this point. My best friend and co-author, when listening to the voicemails I leave her, often pulls the phone away from her ear until I get to the end. You know, the point of the message that's most likely the important one. Because she knows the rest of it is most likely me just going on about god knows what. In other words, this is the part she would also be skipping, despite her immense love for me.

I'm sure there's more I could say about myself. Hell, I know there is. I'm great at talking about me. It's my best subject. But you'll start to get more of me as this month goes by. I will make an attempt to post every night, even if it's nothing more than word count and what I ate for dinner.

Unfortunately, as supportive as my hygienists are, they still expect me there at 8:00 tomorrow. I've written over 1,300 words in three hours. It's the most writing I've done in at least a year. Despite being about 350 under word count, for the first "all nighter" in a long time... I consider it a success.

And now, a picture of my NaNo mascot:

In the beginning...

Being a writer is a little like being a god. Or, at the very least, having a god complex. Unfortunately in my case, I seem to have sold my powers to some hell beast for the lesser, though still desirable, comforts of every day life. Namely food, a roof, and the ability to continue my effort in avoiding public nudity.

I was 15 when this project began. Roughly nine years ago. And to this day it haunts me: hovering over my head like a veritable nagging dead relative. I've vowed on numerous occasions to: 1) finish it 2) put it out to pasture, and C) allow it to remain unfound until my death. Thus far, option C has been winning, as it requires no effort on my part. But even then, I know that in its current state it won't be regarded as the literary discovery of the century.

If you're not familiar with National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), or NaNo for short, allow me to lay it out to you:

From 12:01AM November the first to 12:00PM November the 31st, you are challenged to write a 50,000 word novel. That's the basic premise. 50K in 30 days. Approximately 1,666.67 words per day (though, how the hell do you write 2/3 of a word?). The focus is quantity, not quality. (Side note: this is an actual thing, it's not mine. Credit where credit's due and all that. You can find it at NaNoWriMo.org).

Why not just join the NaNo website like all the other good boys and girls struggling through yet another writing frenzy this fateful November you ask? To be bold: the "red tape" trips up someone in my situation. In other words, a majority of the creators and participants, I have found, are zealots AKA pompous assholes. They have their own rules, rightfully so, about what counts for the competition. I can't enter, I can't join the site. And what's more, I cannot expect a prayer of a hope of receiving any support from my fellow writers.

So here I am, on my own, setting out on this quest. I'm breaking the rules of NaNo in their truest form. This novel is nine years in the making. I'm gritting my teeth, digging my feet in and saying once and for all that it will meet its maker. The original word count was just around 98K. I have countless details, entire chapters, to add to create a complete and linear piece of literary mastery. And as of now, I have 30 days to do it. Or, at the least, the next 50,000 words of it.

We all have something to accomplish in this world. Mine is long overdue.

So this is me, giving a big proverbial middle finger to the guild of psuedo-literature. This is me standing on my little slice of Internet rooftop, raising my arms, and shouting to the heavens: Damn the man! Save the empire!