cinematic romance. heart-pounding adventure.
Well, that’s my NaNoWriMo over for the year.
My computer has died and there’s nothing I can do but wait until it can be fixed. It’s under warranty, but even so, this has definitely put an end to any writing aspirations I’ve had this month.
This may even push back my publishing deadline for Storm of Blood, especially if the computer doesn’t return to me quickly.
To the rest of you: good luck! I’ll be thinking of you as I see your word counts climb and cross the finish line.
Adios.
Day Eleven? Hah. Technically. This is only the second time I’ve sat down and actively written anything. The second time I have opened my veins and bled.
I miss it sometimes. I hate it sometimes. I don’t miss it when I’m not writing and when I am I love everything about it. All the ideas that come out of my head and flow past that (metaphorical) paper (as I write on a computer, not by hand). Some of the ideas catch, like twigs in a fast-flowing river. Others go on and are forgotten or dismissed to join up in some vast ocean of abandoned ideas.
What I liked best about my writing ‘session’ today is the secrets I unearthed about a secondary character. Things that I don’t know yet and my main character doesn’t know yet, but the seeds of the secrets, the promises that it will mean something further down the line.
I write to a plan, but only a very basic one. I have to see how the book will end – not necessarily the climax: I don’t have one yet, though I am rolling ideas around in my head. The climax for Storm of Blood did not come to me until well over half the book was written. I know how this book will end, so my job is to fill in all the other bits. Some of those bits are written down for guidance: basic ideas for fight scenes, some light romance, the overarching three-act plot. But it’s the little things that come out during the actual writing that I get excited about. The stuff you don’t plan.
My secondary character lives in a huge drab mansion that is grey and uninspiring on the outside and splashed with every colour paint on the inside. This character is obsessed with colour. Every room has a different colour theme, and the hallways leading to each room look like there’s been a paintball match held there. I don’t know why this character feels the need to decorate her house this way: I will find out later. In the meantime, my main character’s bedroom is just white. There’s no colour in there at all. That stands for her ‘blank slate’ of being, as she’s just moved to this city. If this was a film, maybe we’d get a montage of my character adding various decorations to the room to make it more colourful. Maybe my character is the kind of person who, because she feels she will only be there for a short time, she won’t decorate at all. I’ll find out later. The important thing is that I’ve set the seeds for these revelations. These unplanned tidbits will morph into something relevant, given time and attention and, hopefully, skill.
This is the beauty of writing. I don’t expect anyone to get as excited about it as I do, but that’s why I write.
I can think of a million different reasons why I didn’t want to do NaNoWriMo this year. Well, not a million. Three at most.
1. My cat had to be put down literally only a few days ago. Big whoop, I know, she’s just an animal, blah blah blah. Actually, she was a member of my family that has been my sister for twenty years. I’ve cried every day. I didn’t want to write, but it’s a very good distraction. When I get thinking about my cat I just want to do nothing, and that’s not very productive, is it?
2. I don’t have a municipal liaison. My former liaison was a kick-ass firebrand who got us all working and winning the North-West English word wars my very first time. I don’t have that kind of support this year because I’m in Australia: Elsewhere.
3. I’m starting a new, more demanding job halfway through NaNoWriMo. But hey, that’s just another challenge, right? If I can get 50K words down in a month while holding a more difficult, time-consuming job, that makes my achievement greater, right?
So yes. Yesterday I didn’t write anything. But today, as many intelligent people have stated, there’s nothing to it. Just sit down at your typewriter/notepad/keyboard and open up a vein.
I’ve written 1265 words today. I may write more later. I may not. I am not feeling the pressure this month to keep to the word count. I am in love with the process itself, gently re-discovering my love of words after an enforced hiatus.
Last week I saw Frankenweenie, Tim Burton’s new animated flick about the lengths a boy will go to to keep his pet dog.
It wasn’t the greatest movie ever, but it was entertaining. I, however, had a massive emotional response. See, the story is vaguely based on Frankenstein. If you haven’t seen it, it’s not spoiling to say that Victor brings his dog Sparky back to life after he’s hit by a car.
In other news, my twenty year old cat is currently dying of a kidney disease, and I’m very sensitive about it. The vet suggested to me that she might need to be put down. I can’t really cope with the idea of losing my cat that I’ve had since I was six years old. Watching a film about a boy who refuses to let go of his pet really upset me. It made me think about my cat and how I’d do anything to keep her alive and how I’d bring her back to life if it were possible. It made me think about how in the worst case scenario, she’s only got a few more months to live. It made me think about how torn up I know I’m going to be when she does die.
So when Sparky got hit by the car, I cried. When Victor grieved, I grieved. When Sparky risked his second life to save Victor, I bawled. I full-on ugly cried in a cinema filled with children, trying my hardest to keep silent because unless you knew that my cat was dying you’d think I was some weirdo at the cinema who couldn’t control herself.
The huge emotional response I had is entirely subjective. If I’d never had a pet, maybe I wouldn’t have even batted an eye. Maybe I wouldn’t care about some stop-animated dog and his devoted best friend. Maybe I would have left the film going ‘Meh’ instead of agreeing that it was an awesome film.
This is subjectivism. I will tell anyone who wants to listen about the response I had, why I had it, and how the film made me feel. If I was to look at the film objectively, I’d have to ignore the fact that my companion I’ve had for 20 years is dying and this obviously helped me frame the film.
Subjectivity is awesome. This is why the subjective reviews of books are so great. When I read reviews (not of my own work – I don’t do that) I want to know the opinion of the person as an individual. I value their opinion as an individual with a completely different background to me and different tastes in books or films and everything they bring to the book or film. I want the piece of their soul they put into their review when they feel passionately about the work.
If I want objectivity, I will read a review in some boring broadsheet. Those guys are paid to be boring and non-offensive.
UPDATE:
I wrote this post on Friday while I was at work. Today it’s Saturday, and my cat is dead. The end.
Hi lovelies. I’f you’re like me, you can’t ‘pants’ a novel – that is, write one by the seat of your pants. I have to know where my novel is going so that I can actually see the end – I’m a ‘plotter’. With NaNoWriMo around the corner, I’m going to share some tips on how I get ready for the event.
Tell someone. Anyone. Your mum. Your dog. The neighbour’s visiting cousin. When I start to verbalise something that is only an idea, parts that didn’t fit before seem to fall into place. The climax that has been eluding me, for example.
I carry a notebook with me everywhere I go in case I think of something awesome. I need to write it down before I forget, and some time in the future wonder, ‘what was that awesome thing I thought of that solved several problem but now I can’t remember?’
By ‘template’ I mean a plan. I use a three-act plot of inciting incident, act one, act two (with a point of no return halfway through), act three, and climax. That’s what works for me – of course, there is room in there to be flexible. I don’t plan every single thing – sometimes my entire act is based on a single image. I’ve tried planning using a Hero’s Journey template, but so far that’s only worked for another WIP, not my current NaNoNovel.
I make a playlist for my NaNo time. I put my earplugs in, and then I can write straight for two hours to get my words done. Last year it consisted of only one song, because Nightwish released their single Storytime at the beginning of November and I’d been starved of new Nightwish music for a while. This year I’m turning to game scores – I like to use instrumental music because it’s less distracting, but it can’t be something I’m too familiar with or I’ll stop writing to listen and pretend I’m some amazing violin maestro. Game and film scores are really great for me because they’re not meant to be the focus of their media and are often understated yet beautiful.
Competition can be healthy. Sometimes. Usually in the writing world it’s not. You don’t want to compare you cover or sales figures or the amount of words you write every day to someone else all the time. During November, it’s OK to be competitive with your wordcount. On the other hand, don’t let the fact that someone else is writing 50K a day (as I believe happened in my first NaNo) get you down. Their word count doesn’t matter: only yours does.
Lissa Bilyk