Nano Day 14
Nov. 14th, 2012 05:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
frea_oYou could claim I had a breakthrough last night (er, technically this morning). It seemed like The Abbey would never be complete, but I gritted my teeth and got to the end, though I’m positive I could cut at least two thousand words. Currently I’m four thousand words behind the recommended tally.
One of the things I’m struggling with is words themselves. People tell me I have a large vocabulary, but in the middle of November, it doesn’t seem that way. I feel like I’ve written the same action over and over again (I haven’t, generally. It inevitably surprises me when I reread is how varied it gets, like, where did these new observations come from? Certainly not for me). So I get self-conscious about that even though I’ve had a couple of years of solid writing and conditioning to hone my “writing on autopilot” skills.
But that’s just the way it is: writers are neurotic beasts and I’m definitely no exception. Speaking of writing, you need to read this comic from The Oatmeal.
With The Abbey marinating, I’m switching focus to The Avengers. The deadline for the Secret Santa exchange isn’t quite beginning to lurk, but it’s getting a little warm in here for my tastes when I only have two of the (warning: optimism ahead!) seven chapters put on the page.
After that, I’m diving back into Chuck territory, to a story I’d rather let lie incomplete forever. My own sense of obligation, however, won’t rest until it’s done.
The Hour returns for its second series tonight. From the hints I’ve gleaned from my British pals on Twitter, there’s lots more UST and longing looks between Bel and Freddie. It’s going to be interesting watching this episode by episode rather than all at once on disc. Expect me to either forget or to spend a lot of time moaning (the former is more likely than the latter, granted).
And since I’m nice, here’s a little bit of the next chapter of The Abbey, which I’m hoping to finish up on Sunday.
“Which way?” Matthew asked after he’d pulled the ladder up and she’d closed the panel. They were stooped over as there wasn’t too much space between the floors—more than most people knew, obviously, but quite a bit less than it took to walk along comfortably.
She pointed off to the right and handed him the night-vision goggles she’d pinched from supplies. “Step carefully now. One step wrong and we’re going to have to explain to a room full of bankers why there are people lurking in the ceiling.”
“Heavens,” Matthew said dryly as he fit the goggles over his eyes. “Lay on, Macduff.”
They made it only a few steps before Matthew let out a startled curse. “Sorry—my mobile,” he said when Mary whirled, ready to fend off an attacker. “That’s Anna. They’re reaching the fourteenth floor now.”
“Wish we had a proper set of comms,” Mary said, but whatever Carlisle’s people had done to hack the system had pretty much fried the software. It would be up to Molesley and Carson to create a new set for the Abbey.
Provided Carson survived this.
Please, Mary prayed to a deity that she wasn’t sure existed, please let Carson survive this.
I wonder how Matthew and Edith survived what happened at the end of last chapter. That’s a puzzler. I guess you’ll find out Sunday.
- Frea
Word Count: 20,196 words
Current Project: Secret Santa Gift Chapter 2
Project on Deck: That Which is Greater 11
One of the things I’m struggling with is words themselves. People tell me I have a large vocabulary, but in the middle of November, it doesn’t seem that way. I feel like I’ve written the same action over and over again (I haven’t, generally. It inevitably surprises me when I reread is how varied it gets, like, where did these new observations come from? Certainly not for me). So I get self-conscious about that even though I’ve had a couple of years of solid writing and conditioning to hone my “writing on autopilot” skills.
But that’s just the way it is: writers are neurotic beasts and I’m definitely no exception. Speaking of writing, you need to read this comic from The Oatmeal.
With The Abbey marinating, I’m switching focus to The Avengers. The deadline for the Secret Santa exchange isn’t quite beginning to lurk, but it’s getting a little warm in here for my tastes when I only have two of the (warning: optimism ahead!) seven chapters put on the page.
After that, I’m diving back into Chuck territory, to a story I’d rather let lie incomplete forever. My own sense of obligation, however, won’t rest until it’s done.
The Hour returns for its second series tonight. From the hints I’ve gleaned from my British pals on Twitter, there’s lots more UST and longing looks between Bel and Freddie. It’s going to be interesting watching this episode by episode rather than all at once on disc. Expect me to either forget or to spend a lot of time moaning (the former is more likely than the latter, granted).
And since I’m nice, here’s a little bit of the next chapter of The Abbey, which I’m hoping to finish up on Sunday.
“Which way?” Matthew asked after he’d pulled the ladder up and she’d closed the panel. They were stooped over as there wasn’t too much space between the floors—more than most people knew, obviously, but quite a bit less than it took to walk along comfortably.
She pointed off to the right and handed him the night-vision goggles she’d pinched from supplies. “Step carefully now. One step wrong and we’re going to have to explain to a room full of bankers why there are people lurking in the ceiling.”
“Heavens,” Matthew said dryly as he fit the goggles over his eyes. “Lay on, Macduff.”
They made it only a few steps before Matthew let out a startled curse. “Sorry—my mobile,” he said when Mary whirled, ready to fend off an attacker. “That’s Anna. They’re reaching the fourteenth floor now.”
“Wish we had a proper set of comms,” Mary said, but whatever Carlisle’s people had done to hack the system had pretty much fried the software. It would be up to Molesley and Carson to create a new set for the Abbey.
Provided Carson survived this.
Please, Mary prayed to a deity that she wasn’t sure existed, please let Carson survive this.
I wonder how Matthew and Edith survived what happened at the end of last chapter. That’s a puzzler. I guess you’ll find out Sunday.
- Frea
Word Count: 20,196 words
Current Project: Secret Santa Gift Chapter 2
Project on Deck: That Which is Greater 11
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no subject
Date: 2012-11-15 04:28 am (UTC)Anyhow, hope you find inspiration in the least expected places. And that you still have some great time for yourself when you aren't going crazy plot-lines that just won't seem to keep it together. Personally, I fear that I've got too much blood in my caffeine system these days, but sleep is for the weak...and December.
no subject
Date: 2012-11-15 06:47 pm (UTC)Here's a thing about Nanowrimo: it's a great idea in theory. The reality, however, is that novels are generally longer than 50k for a reason. There's a lot of story to tell, a lot of characterization to cram into a short space. The reason I managed to keep Set, Spike, Dive! under 50,000 words was because I wrote it all as very intense, and I skipped things that in a full novel I would take time to explore (for example: I would have had way more Bryce before the end). So Nanowrimo is a great idea, sort of, except that I think most of the participants burn out, think, Damn, writing is hard! and don't write for the rest of the year when in truth, I've always viewed writing as something where you have to keep going and going and going until even the Energizer Bunny is like, "Damn, girl." Granted, with every piece of writing advice, that's not the way it is for everybody, but I think that's the way it is for the general population of writers.
But you've said in other comments that you're hoping to turn this into a habit, so I'm not worried about you. I'm talking more in general.
And the still pool vs. the river thing is so apt, you're right. It's a fear I have every time. And then ten minutes later I'm like, "Hey, what would the Avengers be like if they were a burlesque show?!"
I read a piece about Josh Ritter this week that compared the writing inspiration not to a muse but to a monster that you have to keep feeding every bit of pop culture and knowledge to. It resonated so deeply that I'm still thinking about it. :)