The Great Write Hope

Fifty. Fifty thousand words.

Yes, I'm fricking crazy.

Again.

Still?

Yes, it's probably still.

I'm most likely going to be repeating myself here, but here's the situation. No, not the oompa loompa - I mean MY situation. I want to write. I've always wanted to write. Even when I didn't feel like writing, I still wanted to write. This November, I'm going to write.

I'm taking part in "National Novel Writing Month" (aka, NaNoWriMo), where aspiring writers (and some actual ones) attempt to write FIFTY THOUSAND WORDS over a mere THIRTY DAYS. That's like 2 million fricking words a day... well, it feels like it at times. It's my second venture into the murky NaNo waters, and I'm a little nervous. There's a lot to live up to, especially cause I made it to the finish line last year, I've done more planning this year, and cause I talk a lot of shit to people about how it's not that hard.

Why, though, do NaNo?

Simply, because.

Convinced? No, me either.

I do spend a lot of time trying to get my writing right, when there isn't some alternate deadline attached. Even this sentence, which has taken three hours, feels like it could use some kind of improvement maybe *fix this later*. Some people might call me a perfectionist - I have no idea what they mean nor why they would think that, since I don't condone perfectionism, and some of my friends are perfections.

Okay, I have to stop using that joke.

I do often spend an ungodly amount of time trying to get my words right, which lead to one particular setting of mine being worked on sporadically over an eleven-year period, that ended up being an EIGHTEEN-THOUSAND word outline. YES, OUTLINE DAMNIT. I think I then spent a few weeks writing a first chapter of a mere 500 words using that outline, edited it into a better second-draft, and had a usb stick fricking die on me, meaning all my world-class edits were lost in time. How could I even ATTEMPT to edit that first chapter again, knowing I 'had it right'? Yes, I probably didn't, as time since has shown me, but that's how it felt.

Last year, though, I somehow managed it. I wrote a novel. I wrote it in a month. It was the biggest single piece of writing I've ever done, and it turned out better than I could have hoped for.

Was it perfect? No.

Was it entertaining? N... actually yes! It was.

It was raw, rough around the edges yes, but it had heart. Yes I repeated myself at times, cause it was raw - a little rough around the edges. It's stuff I didn't realise when I was writing, but could see it in editing. Sometimes even the editing was a little rough around the edges... raw.

The miniscule amount of editing I've done on last year's piece though, has opened my eyes a little more. Yes, what I wrote first up was good. When I first read it, I had a mini-cringe, but came to love it. Then I edited. My second draft felt like a revelation... I had unearthed the diamond, and it was now polished and shiny. NOTHING COULD COMPARE ohwait, I read it again. Oh, there's a typo. Oh, that word is used a bit much. Hey, that line is awkward. So on.. so on...

Obviously it could go on indefinitely, but it was a comfort. I might get it right the first time. I might make it righter the second. I could no doubt improve it at every stage, and thinking that I could have it right from the very start was just... stupid. So, given that I've done a fair amount of planning (far more than last year), that realisation has come at exactly the right time.

You needn't think you'll just be writing unfiltered crap. You will be writing unfiltered crap. However hidden in there will be specks of imagination of the rarest sort that must be extracted. You will find serendipitous outcomes. Your characters will not only do things you don't want them to, but that you don't expect them to. You will be sucked into a world every bit as real and engrossing as any you have ever read, and you will feel like the passenger on this tumultuous trip rather than the pilot.

All you have to do is try.

Shifting Gears

Time is like... actually, Time is just like Time.

So, I think that this blog is going to be the last of my time analogies. That, or it's at least the first where I decide to no longer make an analogy to time, though it's possible that some view blog entries might make the comparison.

I've had an interesting weekend. Probably one of my most-filled weekends in some time. I always tend to count Friday night as being part of the weekend, since my brain is no longer stuck on school-night mode (and indeed, this week even Thursday had a healthy dose of that). It wasn't so much a 'party-mode' weekend, but just one with lots of varied events. Kind of like the Commonwealth Games, but without things falling apart. I tend to save the falling-apart stuff for when I don't have anything on, and stay at home with a tub of ice-cream watching Only You, Poltergeist, and When Harry Met Sally. :'(

Hug?

I had work drinks on Friday, which is always interesting. Unlike most work drinks, I went out for dinner afterwards. Yes, there was more drinking, but unlike other times where I've eaten, it wasn't a seedy hotdog at three in the morning before catching the nightride home. The people I had dinner with were friends of a work friend, and of course my friend from work.

Now, I've historically been fairly bad in social situations, though somewhere along the line, I think I've come to have a greater appreciation for myself. Maybe it's the writing thing. Maybe it's the messy legal entanglements I don't speak about on this blog or Twitter, but that some do know about (it's the sort of stuff you share over drinks). Well, not the entanglements themselves, but the progress that has been made through them. It could even be my taking stock of where I want my life to go, and jumping at a chance to carve a niche for myself once again. That is, move out.

It's not often that I really think of myself as funny. I know that I'm a nice person, and yeah, I can make myself laugh, but I guess the bar for awesomeness in my eyes is always a fraction or two past what I can normally achieve.

Somehow, I've been exceeding myself.

I think this year's NaNoWriMo is going to be good for me - it's not just challenging me to stick with things, but to also try and be more social, to organise more than I might normally do, and to really step outside my comfort zone. I found myself speaking a heck of a lot about my writing on friday night, and to my amazement, captivating people with what I had planned. Not only was this not my last-year-established-piece-that-can-make-you-cry-and-laugh-within-30-seconds-of-each-emotion, but it was my as-yet-unwritten 2010 NaNo Novel.

Even just my concept had some people saying I really know what I'm doing.

I think that's where my life has to go next, though - into the writing. While I can do the sort of work that I do, I never feel quite as fulfilled as when I'm doing stuff related to writing. Whether that's writing my own stuff, editing, talking to others about their stuff, or.. really anything.

I once had a dream where I was walking down a road, trying to decide which story I should write. I came to the realisation that one of my ideas was THE idea, the first that'd catch people's imaginations beyond what I could fathom. That idea was once I lovingly refer to as "Once Upon A Time In The Sky".

That's not what I'm writing this year. No... this year's is something different, but not by much. Trail to the Sky. An immediate prequel to the aforementioned subconsciously-noted plot.

I have a great feeling about it, though only time will tell if it is the first step toward a life writing, or if it is merely putting on my shoes.

I might be a Mary Sue...

Time is like watching a movie. As you sit there minding your own business, things just happen. Of course if you're watching it at home, and it's on a DVD or (gasp) video, then you can pause it and things stop happening until you start it up again. Time doesn't have one of those pause buttons. At least that's the official story.

One of the things that's becoming clear to me as I traipse through this stupid world, is that it's pretty fricking stupid. Though the thing that's even more clear is that I myself, am awesome. I know lots of people say they're awesome, and they tend to turn out as pretty damn lame, BUT TRUST ME I'm awesome.

I've noticed over time that while yeah, I'm pretty shy/reserved for the most part, some people just become drawn to me. I don't mean that OHTHEYWANTMYBODY (cause not even I want that), but they just want to talk to me. I'm gonna completely and utterly disagree with what I just said: The world is pretty fricking smart.

No, not that thing. Sometimes, I don't think I'm awesome (or at least, special)

It's not that I think poorly of myself - it's just that I don't see the things I do as anything out of the ordinary. It's probably why I get frustrated with some people like I do, cause I think if I'm capable of it, then anyone should be. I also know there's things I can't do, so I'm amazed by people that can do them. It's like, conversation. I can do it. I'm not brilliant at it, but I genuinely talk to people and if their competency level at actually doing... stuff... isn't going to cause me any issues, then I try my best to be friendly and listen, maybe engage them a little.

A recurring pattern I've found is that I'm a sincere genuine person. This is a problem. It is a problem because I go around life expecting everyone else is naturally like that, or that they should be. Though they're not. It also means that on occasion, when someone is generally drawn to that sincere way of mine - it freaks me out. My thoughts start going "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON, OH GOD, I'M GOING TO FRICKING DIE". I never do, but I think I do."

So, something like this happened yesterday. For the first time, in 7-8 years, someone actually approached me in a bar. So I'm talking, doing my best to make them feel comfortable (cause they seemed nervous), and asked if i'd like to be friends.

Actually, it kind of reinforces a self-believed tragedy. I'm too awesome, hence it's best to be friends with me, cause the alternative is not having me around at all. It's happened before (at least it seems like it), and it's infinitely frustrating - like that jar of roasted capsicums I could never get open and eventually just gave away. No, it's no olive theory, but it's a start (plus that was a load of crap). Sometimes I think it'd be easier if I was a jerk. I tried it once, for like 30 seconds. I hated it, and quickly reverted to being myself.

Can't deny my awesomeness. I'm the kindest, bravest, warmest, most wonderful human being you've ever known in your life.

Aside: The example labels for the posts in blogger say stuff like "scooters, vacation, fall." In my mind, the next is 'cliff'!

Appetisers

Time is like a wheel. No matter how fast or slow it may be moving, eventually things end up like they were before. This time last year, I was living in the same suburb I do now, I was single, trying to lose weight, still working at the job I do (okay, that's been over 10 years running now), and preparing to do NaNoWriMo. I hopped online last night, and spoke to someone I hadn't really spoken to since last year, and while yes, things have happened (OMG have they ever), I'm just in a different revision of where I was.

I had an awesome post earlier this year (Some kind of project) that talked about my awesome novel from last year, how I missed summer, how my next novel should be dark and gloomy - well IDONTTHINKSO! It's daylight savings time now, and it's fricking awesome. I leave work, and IT'S SUNNY. I know the weather and the seances are doing their part to keep it all nice and toasty (if a little humid), but it's such a relief.

Yeah, I have a great feeling about this year's novel - I was walking to the post office this morning. Actually, that's another great rant. WHY THE FRICKING HELL AREN'T THEY OPEN OUTSIDE BUSINESS HOURS?? I had a parcel to pick up (new intarwebs, yay), but the one I had to go is only open 9-5 weekdays. Seriously WTF.

But back to my point. Walking along, listening to my writing music playlist, and I had one of those moments I used to get last November. I've had this idea for a scene, towards the latter half of this new novel, where the main character thinks -- well actually, no spoilers (SORRY, YOU'LL JUST HAVE TO READ IT)... that A is really X, when in fact it's not. And I worked out how he'd realise he was wrong, and it just came to me, and made perfect sense. WHICH leads to.. "then the real X is.... !" Yeah, super vagueness is still my speciality. That and the southern oracle.

It was a cool feeling. I hope it continues, though there's still 25 days to go.

Now, because of how smashingly well it went last year (and OMG, how about the pressure to do it all again?) I'm going to share something special. The following is not so much my usual zany bullshit, but instead, a sneak-peak of the second draft of what I did last year. Yes, it's a taste of Shimmer. It's the first four pages of the rewrite, stopping at a reasonable point.

---

It always felt like a jolt; an imagined fall, and never just like waking. The fluorescent glare could have as easily been a blazing sun as Joshua opened his eyes, echoing starlight speckles as he closed them tight. He pressed a fist against his forehead and winced.

".." he said, trying to speak though the words didn't catch. Clearing his throat, he tried again.

"Sage, status. How's the ship holding up?"

"The Essentir's manifolds a-" replied a hollow voice, though was cut off by Joshua.

"Short version."

"Optimally, Master Keene."

"So why am I awake?"

"We are nearing our destination."

"Already?" asked Joshua, the syllables coming through a yawn.

"See for yourself."

He rolled his body to the side, and squinted his eyes open. Greys, light and shadow, and not much else.

"Okay. Give me a minute. We got a minute at least?"

"We have."

Stars. Even though the ship was blazing through space, Joshua could only see stars; a spatter of dots set against the black of space. If it wasn't for the hum of the Essentir, he wouldn't have thought it was moving.

"I thought you said we were close. There's only... that."

"Do you really want the statistics, Master Keene?"

Joshua winced. He'd made that mistake before, having once said yes to Sage's question, though he'd since lost the naivety that made you take up an Artificial Intelligence on an offer of statistics.

"No, no... it's fine"

Sage sounded disappointed. "Very well. Anyhow, despite what your perceptions may be telling you, we are now within the gravitational pull of LX-126."

Joshua floated upward from the stasis chamber, hand pulling himself along a railing that ran toward the Essentir's fore. Muscle atrophy would have made it a difficult task under normal conditions, but weightlessness had advantages. He guided himself down into a chair next to the command console, and strapped himself in. He tapped commands into the console before him, though his eyes stayed focused on the viewscreen as his fingers moved, scrolling through information. A portion of it had turned opaque, showing a schematic of the ship, and diagnostics for the core systems within. He tapped another command, and the image changed to show a starchart with additional pieces of data. His lips mouthed the words as he read them... Speed, date, location.

"Really Sage, since when does seventeen hours count as almost? You could've kept me frosty for half a day more."

"Standard navigation procedures dictate that based on the completion percentage of the journey, all personnel should be brought out of stasis and refamiliarise themselves with the rest of the crew to ensure a cohesive team."

"Team, Sage. I think you could have waited. I can understand one or two hours. Even eight I could have probably dealt with, but seventeen?"

"There's no 'I' in team, Joshua."

"I am the team. And the team's going to bed."

"I can quote the exact regulations if you insist, as well as the supporting records that led to the installment of it. I can share this extensive catalogue of data if you wish."

Joshua shook his head, and leaned back in the chair. He closed his eyes, and lifted his feet on top of the console.

"Go right on. It ought to help me get to sleep."

"Really, Master Keene. I appreciate your desire for further rest, but idleness, now?"

He waved his hand aisde, then moved it to catch an escaping yawn. As Joshua started to shift from his waking state, he felt a jolt - a falling sensation. Then he felt a feet smashing against the console sensation, which reverted to the first feeling as he fell from the chair, and to the ground. He groaned.

"Really, Sage? Gravity?"

"Gravity, Master Keene."

Joshua picked himself up from the floor, a hand grasping the chair for support. His muscle atrophy was only slight, stasis having kept his body at the same level of fitness that he'd gone in with. Overbearing tiredness, coupled with an overbearing Intelligence, meant that adjusting was an adjustment. He sat down in the chair, fastened the seat belt, and put his feet back up on the console.

"I'm fixed on having this nap. What could it hurt?"

The console that Joshua was resting his foot on emitted a beep, then he felt a zap of electricity coursing up his leg. He tried to jump out of his seat, but the seatbelt meant he flailed instead. He pointed up at the screen.

"Not cool, Sage. I've warned you about shocks. You know I can get better pilot units, so just try me. The ApraNav Mark V is meant to work a treat. An absolute treat."

"I wouldn't recommend it. The Mark V is considered to be extremely anti-social."

"Compared to homicidal tendencies, I'd be inclined to take my chances."

"I'll concede then, Master Keene, and allow you to rest. Promise not to kill you."

It was almost four years he'd spent on the Essentir, though he'd gone in and out of stasis so frequently over that time, that it felt like he'd spent weeks wandering the ship. He was lucky; fortunate even for the help and the companionship that Sage provided. There were times when it overwhelmed him. The nature of his journey was hard enough, though stasis meant it didn't seem like the almost-four years that it was.

Every time he went to the pods felt like a mere blink. His body was rejuvenated, but his mind was exhausted. He didn't know how long it had been since the last time he slept, either in real time or waking time, but it felt like a week, interspersed by dozens of blinks that spanned countless months. He needed sleep - real sleep.

Joshua glared at the screen for a moment, then his eyes flickered shut. "Better not", he mumbled before he drifted off.

---

So that's what I write like. At least once I edit, though the off-the-cuff stuff is still surprisingly readable. While I do want to finish this oh so badly (but would ideally like it to take not one little bit of effort). Just glancing at it, I know it's not quite the 'final' quality I'm hoping to achieve, but it's still got something. Actually, I don't care if nobody else likes it, cause it entertains me!

I don't know if I'm going to do the hand-out-during NaNo that I did last year, cause it's a lot of pressure to write well (and this new one feels like a longer story, which means I have to continue indefinitely to get things right), but I guess we'll see.