NaNoWriMo 2014 // Last Words // The author loses his mind
NaNoWriMo is National Novel Writing Month, an event where thousands of writers write 50,000 words (or more) in one month. A novel. Or a good start, anyways. I’m participating this year. And so, in actuality, I don’t really have time to be writing this post. But I am. Because you (Yes, you.) are the best. And because you (Yes, you.) are just that great. Here I shall log my daily “last sentence,” beginning, as today is the second, with yesterday’s. (All these, by the by, are my own personal intellectual property, and thus… do not steal them.) *Note: Intellectual may occasionally be a stretch… I end most writing days at late o’clock at night, when my brain is on the fritz. So, please, just… bear with me.
10.01 “This was how Minerva found him then: shivering slightly from the cold and covered in grime in a spotless attic, pouring over Hephaestus the Grumbler by the light of a dying candle.”
10.02 “Never was a roof more quickly thatched, nor a shed mucked more thoroughly, than on that morning in the cold, with the promise of breakfast, and a story to make it whole.”
10.03 “What is going on?” [Appropriate, I think, for my feelings on the third day of NaNo.]
10.04 “’Thank you,’ he said, quietly, and fled from the room.”
10.05 “Hating the weight of the money in his hand.”
10.07 [<< note: yikes.] “Then the valley opened up once again, and he was overwhelmed by a cloak of heady joy.” [<< note: ROUGH draft. So swallow your snort and hop on off that there seat of scoffers, Ricky.]
10.08 “To see a person as they are is less alarming than believing in their deception.”
10.10 [<< note: O_o] “And then five more words, like bells ringing in his ears: ‘You must not forget again.'”
10.11 “The street was far less frenzied in the evening, the press of bodies having thinned to a more comfortable crowdedness.” [“I am stinking beat. I have a writing headache. This is bad. This is very bad. I feel like I’m shaking a dry paint brush over a canvas, trying to get something to splatter off and look awesome. Today’s sentence was cherry picked out of the last paragraph I wrote. Everything that came after it was garbage. AUGH! AU-UH-AU-OO-AUGH! *chest-thump* *chews pencil* *eats pencil* I’m going to have to do something drastic.” End of transmission.]
10.12 “But the smithy raised a heavy hand for quiet, and when at last it came, spake softly, ‘No longer.'”
10.13 “Thus, despite the predicament you may be finding yourself in, I ask that you wait just a moment more, and allow me to sufficiently elaborate.” [Ha. Story of my (writing) life. p.s. This one was pulled out of the middle of the text too, but only because, well… the last line is stinking awesome, and I want to save it for when you READ THE BOOK. Woot. :-]
12.7 …. Hm. Two things I’m realizing here. For one, November is the eleventh month of the year…. *headdesk* *homeschool* *so, no desk* *just head* Secondly, that did not go at all as planned.
I shorted out. 14,000 words, near as many cups of chai, hours of sitting at a desk, or in a chair, or on the floor. By the end, there were a handful of times when I would sit down to write for two or three hours, and at the end of it, I’d end up with a couple hundred words. A pittance. Ugh. I had a weekend (around the 13th) (of November…) (11.13) where I literally had no time to write for 2 days. And I was… exhilarated. “And at last I see the light” kind of thing. I felt like someone lifted a barbell off my chest.
So rest was what killed me. But I will keep writing, now, and tomorrow, and the next time I hit a block. And the next time I’m disappointed. And so forth. A tortoise, running a better race in the long run. So… onward. :-)