Monday, October 27, 2003
Boggle-- one week zipped by, just like that. Sorry I forgot to update, all six of my loyal readers. Just got rather involved in everything, sadly, little of which was novel-related. Only 5K words last week, bringing my useful total to 45,500+.
National Novel Writing Month is coming up, and although I've never participated in that madness before, I think I'm going to twist it to my advantage this year. I'll try for 50,000 words in November, which should bring the total up around the vicinity of 100K.
I'm working from an extremely in-depth outline, and this time around I'm not feeling any of the mid-story narrative iceberg break-offs that plagued my earlier efforts. This isn't really my "first" attempted novel... counting just from the age of 18, it's my sixth try. I've gotten as much as 200 pages in before trashing everything. Also, since I was 17, I've self-published five complete roleplaying books, e-published ten full gaming releases (each larger than 30K words), and completed two large freelance projects. So it's not necessarily hard work and lengthy effort I'm inexperienced with, it's just the sweet taste of success at the end of the task...
Perhaps I'll stick up an excerpt to reward those six loyal readers (only after letting the little wolf read it first, of course), and perhaps whittle their numbers down a bit when they see the sort of shite that flows from my fingertips.
National Novel Writing Month is coming up, and although I've never participated in that madness before, I think I'm going to twist it to my advantage this year. I'll try for 50,000 words in November, which should bring the total up around the vicinity of 100K.
I'm working from an extremely in-depth outline, and this time around I'm not feeling any of the mid-story narrative iceberg break-offs that plagued my earlier efforts. This isn't really my "first" attempted novel... counting just from the age of 18, it's my sixth try. I've gotten as much as 200 pages in before trashing everything. Also, since I was 17, I've self-published five complete roleplaying books, e-published ten full gaming releases (each larger than 30K words), and completed two large freelance projects. So it's not necessarily hard work and lengthy effort I'm inexperienced with, it's just the sweet taste of success at the end of the task...
Perhaps I'll stick up an excerpt to reward those six loyal readers (only after letting the little wolf read it first, of course), and perhaps whittle their numbers down a bit when they see the sort of shite that flows from my fingertips.
Monday, October 20, 2003
Polishing the brass on the Titanic, kids. That's what I've been doing these past few days. Sanding, priming, re-hinging, and re-painting this crumbling house's weatherbeaten cellar door and frame. Not that it will matter much in a year or two, because once I'm gone this place will spontaneously collapse into a house-sized heap of mildew flakes and soiled underclothes.
For a few months, one part of this shithole's exterior will look like it came across someone who gave a rat's ass. It'll stick out like a sore thumb, in fact. Now I'll have to do all the exterior window frames before it snows. Crap. Can't win for losing.
I did 35,000+ words in five days for my last d20 roleplaying project, and it was fun. I think 5K rough draft words per day is the ballpark for my optimal fiction output-- that's what I can comfortably do in six to eight hours, when prose quality matters, with plenty of time left over for re-reads and proofs of older drafts. 8-12K is acceptable and even sustainable for roleplaying stuff, but the style is an inherently forgiving bastard offspring of encyclopedia prose and textbook language. When I'm writing roleplaying stuff, I don't have to stare at a blank screen for forty-five minutes trying to figure out how Locke Lamora puts his hands in his fucking pockets.
Cognitive dissonance:
"He puts his hands in his pockets like the GRITTIEST COOLEST FANTASY MOTHERFUCKER WHO EVER SET HAND TO POCKET IN THIS OR ANY OTHER LANGUAGE! Yow! Zing! Eyeball kick! A hand slides into a pocket and the reader's life will never be the same! He's got hands in pockets like Quentin Tarantino's got bloody shoot-outs! It will be the GREATEST POCKET-RELATED PROSE SEQUENCE IN THE WESTERN LITERARY CANON!" says one side of the brain.
"Just write the goddamn sentence, you twit." says the other.
The cat, of course, does not care. Her primary task in life is to intercept sunlight before it can touch the floor. She moves clockwise across the house as the day goes on so that she may more efficienctly discharge this task.
The cat is clearly the brains of this operation. Me she just lets work here to pay the bills.
40,500+ words and counting.
For a few months, one part of this shithole's exterior will look like it came across someone who gave a rat's ass. It'll stick out like a sore thumb, in fact. Now I'll have to do all the exterior window frames before it snows. Crap. Can't win for losing.
I did 35,000+ words in five days for my last d20 roleplaying project, and it was fun. I think 5K rough draft words per day is the ballpark for my optimal fiction output-- that's what I can comfortably do in six to eight hours, when prose quality matters, with plenty of time left over for re-reads and proofs of older drafts. 8-12K is acceptable and even sustainable for roleplaying stuff, but the style is an inherently forgiving bastard offspring of encyclopedia prose and textbook language. When I'm writing roleplaying stuff, I don't have to stare at a blank screen for forty-five minutes trying to figure out how Locke Lamora puts his hands in his fucking pockets.
Cognitive dissonance:
"He puts his hands in his pockets like the GRITTIEST COOLEST FANTASY MOTHERFUCKER WHO EVER SET HAND TO POCKET IN THIS OR ANY OTHER LANGUAGE! Yow! Zing! Eyeball kick! A hand slides into a pocket and the reader's life will never be the same! He's got hands in pockets like Quentin Tarantino's got bloody shoot-outs! It will be the GREATEST POCKET-RELATED PROSE SEQUENCE IN THE WESTERN LITERARY CANON!" says one side of the brain.
"Just write the goddamn sentence, you twit." says the other.
The cat, of course, does not care. Her primary task in life is to intercept sunlight before it can touch the floor. She moves clockwise across the house as the day goes on so that she may more efficienctly discharge this task.
The cat is clearly the brains of this operation. Me she just lets work here to pay the bills.
40,500+ words and counting.
Wednesday, October 15, 2003
9,144 words! Argh. So close. I blame the Chicago Cubs, local gravitational fluctuations, Gabe Chouinard, society, my mom, and the sun in my eyes, not necessarily in that order.
G'night, all.
G'night, all.
12 hours of uninterrupted work time looming.
2 playoff games, one to decide the NLCS, and one to possibly clinch the ALCS.
New Paul van Dyk remix CD.
Lunch with the girlfriend.
Idiot housemate twenty-odd miles away.
Today will be sweet. I am a creature of ridiculously simple pleasures. 10,000 words. Can I do it?
Oh, yeah--
http://www.penny-arcade.com/view.php3
Heh.
2 playoff games, one to decide the NLCS, and one to possibly clinch the ALCS.
New Paul van Dyk remix CD.
Lunch with the girlfriend.
Idiot housemate twenty-odd miles away.
Today will be sweet. I am a creature of ridiculously simple pleasures. 10,000 words. Can I do it?
Oh, yeah--
http://www.penny-arcade.com/view.php3
Heh.
Tuesday, October 14, 2003
7,000 words on the roleplaying project; quota met for the second day in a row. Not bad-- just gotta keep it up and do it Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, too. I'm finding that I can get that stuff banged out (even with the baseball playoffs distracting me) early enough in the day to leave me 4-6 additional writing hours in the evening; that's good news for the novel. Two hours remaining to work on that sucker this evening before the better half comes over. Hopefully, the Cubs can put the Marlins to bed in that span of time, too.
Monday, October 13, 2003
Although no novel work got done today, I did 6,000 words on my latest d20 roleplaying project. While this meets my quota for the day (now I get to repeat it four more times this week), I still feel tired and stupid. The significant other and I are both grumpy and sick to our stomachs; we seem to have picked some microscopic hitchhiker up this weekend. I'm miffed because if not for naps and staring into space this should have been a 12,000 word day. Bah, fudgemonkeys.
Saturday, October 11, 2003
Terribly zonked on lack of sleep. It's been an eventful few days, despite my idiot housemate wandering around like some sort of group-therapy zombie, determined to pry me away from work so I can entertain his pathetic carcass (and failing, and whining because of it). 53-year-old men should be capable of entertaining themselves. When I escape this place, there will be much rejoicing.
Bleedin' Word Count: 32,500+
Bleedin' Word Count: 32,500+
Tuesday, October 07, 2003
Just over 700 words today. Not a huge burst of prose, but an important one. I've gone back and re-done the prologue. Now, rather than setting the tone and atmosphere of the "contemporary" city of Camorr, it offers a peek into the nature of the main character right off the bat. Better, better, better all the time...
I picked up a copy of Ian Fleming's Thrilling Cities, a book I've been looking for for months now. Naturally, it appeared on the discard shelf at what I've come to call the First National Library of the Twilight Zone. It's a travelogue, circa 1960-62, in which middle-aged Fleming visited eleven "exotic and thrilling" locations around the world and reported back to the British middle class on the wonders of gambling, drinking, massage parlors, etc. It's an atmospheric mood-piece, by turns wonder-laced and sardonic, as though written by a jaded idealist who occasionally rediscovers his old love of travel between bouts of acid indigestion.
There's something sad, apologetic, and unfulfilled about everything Fleming wrote, Bond novels and non-fiction alike. It's as though he was cognizant that his goal, the "thriller as great literature," was just beyond his reach as a writer, with every word he banged out on that gold typewriter of his. I don't know what it must have been like, to be perceptive enough (as he surely was) to sense those shortcomings yet powerless to correct them. I hope I never get to find out.
Anyhow, this book is an important addition to my collection of background material-- in part because the elements of the better 20th century thrillers are something I'm trying to respect and emulate, and in part because its gritty back-street exoticism is 110% in line with my vision of Camorr.
Ever-Lovin' Word Count: 29,000+
I picked up a copy of Ian Fleming's Thrilling Cities, a book I've been looking for for months now. Naturally, it appeared on the discard shelf at what I've come to call the First National Library of the Twilight Zone. It's a travelogue, circa 1960-62, in which middle-aged Fleming visited eleven "exotic and thrilling" locations around the world and reported back to the British middle class on the wonders of gambling, drinking, massage parlors, etc. It's an atmospheric mood-piece, by turns wonder-laced and sardonic, as though written by a jaded idealist who occasionally rediscovers his old love of travel between bouts of acid indigestion.
There's something sad, apologetic, and unfulfilled about everything Fleming wrote, Bond novels and non-fiction alike. It's as though he was cognizant that his goal, the "thriller as great literature," was just beyond his reach as a writer, with every word he banged out on that gold typewriter of his. I don't know what it must have been like, to be perceptive enough (as he surely was) to sense those shortcomings yet powerless to correct them. I hope I never get to find out.
Anyhow, this book is an important addition to my collection of background material-- in part because the elements of the better 20th century thrillers are something I'm trying to respect and emulate, and in part because its gritty back-street exoticism is 110% in line with my vision of Camorr.
Ever-Lovin' Word Count: 29,000+
Monday, October 06, 2003
In addition to writing, I've been building a concordance of all novel-related material, archiving and cross-referencing it in one location so I can haul it around with me anywhere and access it quickly. It's about 200 sheets of material at the moment-- handwritten notes, photocopies, maps, 'net printouts, etc. I bet that's just the most exciting thing ever.
Also, I've got a burning urge to write a short story this week. It'll either be for Gabe or for a paying online market that people respect. ;P
Today's Useful Word Count: 1500+
Useful Madness-Inducing Words So Far: 28,300+
Also, I've got a burning urge to write a short story this week. It'll either be for Gabe or for a paying online market that people respect. ;P
Today's Useful Word Count: 1500+
Useful Madness-Inducing Words So Far: 28,300+
Saturday, October 04, 2003
Things got better tonight in novel-land. Still not quite right, but the situation has been agreeably unfucked. It's a bit strange trying to preserve a somewhat swash-buckly feel when one of your main characters is a big fat guy with a pair of hatchets rather than your standard-issue svelte hero with a rapier. Still, we're here to broaden our horizons, aren't we?
Tomorrow I'm going to fiddle with my template settings and create a new sub-section for the game-related sites and blogs in the lefthand column. I'm also going to add Aunte Kage's pseudoblog and a few other things. Also, the Space Moose archive has moved. The world cannot long live without the potent power of Space Moose, which is possibly the least politically correct anything published anywhere in the last fifteen years.
Today's Useful Word Count: 1800+
Words So Far, Damn Your Eyes: 26,800+
Tomorrow I'm going to fiddle with my template settings and create a new sub-section for the game-related sites and blogs in the lefthand column. I'm also going to add Aunte Kage's pseudoblog and a few other things. Also, the Space Moose archive has moved. The world cannot long live without the potent power of Space Moose, which is possibly the least politically correct anything published anywhere in the last fifteen years.
Today's Useful Word Count: 1800+
Words So Far, Damn Your Eyes: 26,800+
Friday, October 03, 2003
Today was a real shitsucker and I'd rather not talk about it. Doubleplusgood work on my d20 roleplaying work and nothing but fucking pretzel-brained misery on the fiction front. I award myself zero useful words. We'll see what I can fix tomorrow.
Congrats to the Chicago Cubs, by the way. One more to go...
Congrats to the Chicago Cubs, by the way. One more to go...
Thursday, October 02, 2003
Situation Report...
The Air: Crisp and mild
The Stars: Cold and bright
The Minnesota Twins: Defeated
The Author: Butt-sore, going for a walk
Words Today: 750 so far
Words Total: 25,000+
The Air: Crisp and mild
The Stars: Cold and bright
The Minnesota Twins: Defeated
The Author: Butt-sore, going for a walk
Words Today: 750 so far
Words Total: 25,000+
