winning

I just won nanowrimo* 2011. I finished my 50,000 word novel in the 30 days of November. That’s all I’m saying. This guy. (points both virtual thumbs at self then shuffles off to bed, tired)

*National Novel Writing Month

nanowrimo writing wisdom

It’s funny how a lot of otherwise improbable events can be made believable by laying an early framework for those events to occur.

Just writing, “I got hit by lightning three times on my way home this morning.” seems improbable on its own. But how about this: “People get struck by lightning all the time in my family. I got hit by lightning three times on my way home this morning.” While not the strongest of examples, you get my point.

The first sentence creates in the reader an expectation or at the very least a baseline statement to measure that second statement by and it lessens the blow. A bit. Though lightning is still quite dangerous.

Better might be: “I stay inside when there’s lightning outside.”

(sorry, just avoiding my nanowrimo writing a bit longer)

quick nanowrimo update

And when those days come when I know I will not be able to write and the days after when I should be making up the words which those days missed out on, I am struck by how hard it can be to return to that mode of thinking and writing without editing one’s thoughts and words as if it’s some learned thing and not the thing that it is, which is this: unlearned.

excerpt from nanowrimo book

Here’s some of my story (rough draft) wherein a madman leaves the small company of survivors who are trying to escape the wilderness of a foreign planet. Hope you find it enjoyable (feel free to encourage me, but I don’t need any corrections or editors or naysayers … not yet anyway).

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Days went by. The four of them walking. Resting during the hottest hours of the day and always walking at night because they were too restless and too watchful to sleep at night—-for that was the time when the natives struck and they could not defend against another attack. Thurber’s head wound was healing and the bandages were removed and the ragged red scar on his forehead shone proud and added character to his face to say the least. And they were all of them worn out and desperate but Gill Forstal—-who used to be a wealthy family man and adventurer and jovial pioneer in his manner—-was now dangerously gaunt and brittle of bone. He refused to eat anything that couldn’t be poured down his throat as liquid and this meant he wasn’t eating enough to survive, not for long. And this meant he would die soon.

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nanowrimo

I woke up at 3am this morning with the decision to write a novel in a month. Despite my fairly busy schedule next month, I signed up for nanowrimo.org (National Novel Writing Month — which is November, which starts at midnight tonight, which I’ve only just thought of an idea for). Wish me luck!