nanowrimo babble (pretentious writer alert)
11.01.03 @ 7:42 p.m.
I think when you're immersed in some kind of creative project, you start picking up everything around you to incorporate.
This is clearly going to be an all NaNo-entry.
I stayed in bed for a really long time, naughtily reading The Lovely Bones as I can't keep away from it. Tsk. Tsk. I spent until at least four o'clock in my room, with a few exceptions. One reason was that it was much easier to heat. The other was the Jehovah's Witnesses at my dining room table. If E*'s friend Bonnie isn't a Jehovah's Witness herself, I feel sorry for her getting roped into Bible study. But that's just a function of my character - I pity anyone that has religion foisted off on them. No offense intended. (Bonus: I wandered into the kitchen for pizza leftovers when they were reading from Isaiah about the afterlife; I am so using "And there will be no pain... and there will be no death" as something the bringer of armageddon is going to say... cliche, I know, but it fits so, so well.) I wrote and wrote, though I think I actually got more done when I wandered out here to the living room after everyone had gone to play with the internet. I wrote at least a thousand words out here, but I wasn't keeping track of how much time I was spending writing and I might have just settled into the groove. At this moment, I'm at 2,084 words. Woo, me. I'm ahead of quota. And this isn't counting the 150 words I wrote of Traveler telling Celeste the origins of the Rangers. I was just jotting down a quick note on an idea I got in the shower (lying around in bed produced no thoughts, but once I stepped into the shower, my brain kicked in-interesting) and I kept typing in Trav's voice.
The absurd thing is that I'm writing extremely dense exposition. I'm telling instead of showing because this is just meant to be the prologue: Civilization fell, and this is how it went. Two thousand words later, I'm only two thirds of the way through my prologue. Fucking hell. The rise and fall of the Army of the Free could be a novel in itself! The problem is that I don't want to write it. I don't want to do the kind of research it would take. It's also probably fairly ridiculous. The world is about to be depopulated by a mad cross between the Salvation Army and the Rajneeshis. Ever read John Updike's S.? I have. It's based on the Rajneesh cult of Antelope, Oregon. I've even mentally built a little compound in California where the faithful (and only the EXTREMELY faithful) farm to subsidize the Army. And pretty soon, the High Commander (sounds too Third Rock From the Sun-sy, doesn't it? Tough) is going to get a message from God (or so he says) and... well. I left off discussing the security of the compound and the way they, as a Christian church, get no suspicion from the rather Orwellian government who are only paranoid about foreigners.
I know better than to go back and read over what I've already done. It's not good. I'm sure I use the same adjectives over and over and over again.
Non-NaNo: The Simpsons' Treehouse of Horror XIV is tomorrow and I am SO DAMN EXCITED. I love the Treehouse of Horror. Why didn't they show the other twelve last week? Or ANY of the other twelve? All we got was ToH XIII midweek. Pfft. What good is that.
Previously
fuck it @ 08.01.05
fanciful imaginary sea voyages to come @ 07.20.05
*dies* @ 07.19.05
more ootp @ 07.17.05
harry potter: driving our children into devil worship @ 07.17.05
