On writing
Well, actually, on not writing. My publication rate here has dropped – I seem to be managing a fairly consistent rate of one post a month, but that’s simply not good enough. Not so much a blog – more of an occasional rant.
I’d like to say this is a fresh start, the fightback starts here, from now on I’ll be publishing insightful, witty and daily posts and gathering a huge and loyal following along the way. (As opposed to the tiny but loyal following I currently have – hi Steph.) However, no can do. Y’see, in a moment of utter madness I’ve signed up here.
NaNoWriMo. The name is clunky, nasty and embarrassing to say in public. The concept is insane – a novel in a month? 50,000 words? In a month? That’s – wait a moment – 1667 words a day. HOW MANY?
The idea is simply to write 50,000 words in the month of November. And that’s it. No more rules. The ‘novel’ doesn’t even have to be finished – it just has to be 50K words long at midnight on the 30th, as verified by an online word counter. Intense, insane, and completely counter to the way I normally work as a writer (think, research, write a few words, rethink, rewrite, more research, realise I got it completely wrong, delete, repeat).
And yet… it may be the only way I’ll ever actually commit to paper (or to the screen) the story that’s rattling about inside my head. It’s not a great story – fantasy fiction in the grand tradition of Robin Hobb or J.V. Jones – but it’s in there, and it wants to get out. Or rather, I want to get it out, because it’s making the place look untidy.
So here I go. Tonight at midnight I’ll be sitting down at my computer with only a copy of Word, a pot of tea and a 100,000-strong community of fellow strugglers across the globe for company. MrH is also taking part (and is far more likely to finish than I am, since he’s now back in the land of the unemployed – more of that particular unpleasantness some other time), and two of the three Hawthorn saplings are planning their magnum opera*, so there won’t be much in the way of conversation in our house for the next month.
So, for the next 30 days at least I have an excuse for not posting here. In contrast to the rest of the year, when I have no excuse other than sheer bone idleness and a lack of any degree of motivation. 1667 words a day. Wish me luck…
* No, really, this is the plural of opus. I looked it up. Who knew?
You are brave. I’d never in a million years sign up for it. (But then I’d go and write 50,000 words in a single blog post, wouldn’t I? Windbag that I am…and then I wonder why I don’t have time for walking and reading and why I end up in bed far too late.)
So…how’s it going? And please, please, give me a hint about the story?
PS. I wish you *would* post here more often. I miss it when you don’t.