I don't think I'll actually write a novel, but I might go and try to write a sequel short story to one that I wrote back in September. It will probably be a mini murder mystery or something.
Alright well I put in 2,000 words today. The goal is to hit 5,000 daily, at least five days a week. How should we all start exchanging our stories and such? Let's help each other write!
Hmm... How many pages do you think 50,000 words are? Y'know, in average.
Depends on your formatting, but it's around 160-175 pages. The first year I did NaNoWriMo my novel was just above 50k and it came to 170 pages. (Which is very short for a novel, but pretty long for one month!)
I've been wanting to join this for years, but am always a bit intimidated. I want to write, but can never seem to get myself started. It's like my brain needs to know all the details first but I can never think of it all. The last thing I wrote I jumped into a scene I'd thought of and that worked better than staring at a blank screen waiting for the correct beginning to come to me. So I'd like to, but I probably won't...
So, what's the policy on telling each others' story premise? I just started, and I'm about 1500 words in. Man, this is gonna be tough. Also, it can be several short stories, right?
Well I can't find no where where it says it can't be, so I guess it can.
Just written about 500 words, and man with work and all that I am not sure I can keep it to 1.666 words a day. But heck, if I just get some out its fine with me.
My story premise is a demon detective that mgrant created and a crazy librarian that I created go and solve a chain of mysterious murders at a debutante style competition. So far, I have written...nothing. I'll probably start next weekend when I have more time.
Started out with the bloody birth of the main protagonist and his story is not going to be a happy one, fate will seem to be against him all the time. The other protagonist will have more of a fairytale beginning story, but still will have it's unpleasant twists but in a more manageable way. More people will have parts but not major parts as these two. Can't wait to include all people and have my story take shape.
So far it's already full of bad writing, but I don't care I like it so far.
I'm.... confused. Are you all in the future or something? Nanowrimo doesn't begin until the first of November and yet you all seem to have started.
I'll be doing it as well this year, and now that I've finally moved to Liverpool, I'm able to go to the write-in meetings for it too. They gave me a sticker and sweets at the kick-off meeting! Best reason to keep going back! :P
I'm starting today because it's a Monday, and it's only one day off. Just a bit more convenient for me that way.
What isn't convenient is that I write with pen & paper, so it's kinda hard to count how much I've written! I'm aiming for around three double-sided A4 sheets a day, which I estimate to be around 1,100 words or so. Do that 30 times, and I have 33,000 words.
What was the target again?
EDIT: It was 50,000. Crap. Looks like I'll be doing some extra work on my days off!
What isn't convenient is that I write with pen & paper...
I'm going to be using pen and paper as well as I'm just not that fast at typing. I figured that instead I could read my work back to the computer using speech recognition. That of course means it won't understand a word I say, but will make entertaining reading!
Mine is about a superhero team who works for a company that manufactures superheroes. Unfortunately, I have exams this month, so I won't have time to finish it much. Though, I'll try as much as I can.
I've been wanting to join this for years, but am always a bit intimidated. I want to write, but can never seem to get myself started. It's like my brain needs to know all the details first but I can never think of it all.
Ah, but that's the point of NaNoWriMo! The structure of it makes you get over the worries and just *write*. Don't think. Just write. It can be 50,000 words of nonsense (but chances are a story will emerge way before you get that far. )
So should we start a Specific thread for Critiquing?
Maybe we should see how many people are interested in critiquing first. Personally, I'd love to read what everyone's written and put forth my own pitiful efforts, but if I'm the only one who likes that, there isn't much of a point.
Maybe we should see how many people are interested in critiquing first. Personally, I'd love to read what everyone's written and put forth my own pitiful efforts, but if I'm the only one who likes that, there isn't much of a point.
Sure. I've got the prologue already written from earlier and I'm just going to build onto that. Of course, when I say prologue, I'm talking about forty-five pages of mini plot stuff.
Mine will be called "The Fictional Life of Gary", only it's in Dutch. Basically I'll be fictionalizing my own life heavily, by turning it into a sci-fi fantasy. It's an idea I had for ages but never bothered penning out.
Ah, but that's the point of NaNoWriMo! The structure of it makes you get over the worries and just *write*. Don't think. Just write. It can be 50,000 words of nonsense (but chances are a story will emerge way before you get that far. )
I know... but stories must begin at the beginning, my brain won't budge. Stupid brain. I could try a short story I started, I might be able to do a couple of them with different points of view. Now to make myself do it... I already missed today.
Maybe we should see how many people are interested in critiquing first. Personally, I'd love to read what everyone's written and put forth my own pitiful efforts, but if I'm the only one who likes that, there isn't much of a point.
I think I need to change my story premise. I'm thinking about Ghostbusters, but with Boogeymen instead of ghosts. Y'know, personifications of a child's fears. Has anyone ever done that?
In honor of my 1,111st post, I present the unedited preface to my story:
SHAKANOCHI TRAVEL COOPERATIVE
GUIDE FOR DISPLACED PERSONS
--ENGLISH—
Preface
I am one of the only tour guides in existence whose customers are neither paying nor altogether willing to go on a tour of some of the most beautiful and breathtaking places our civilization has to offer. H*ll, if I’m not mistaken, all of you are actually being paid for this, and I’d be surprised if even half of you want to go.
I’m perfectly fine with that.
I also understand that for many of you, this is a tough time. Not all of you, mind you, I’ve seen my share of people who have hugged the administrator at their drop point, for giving them a second chance when they were so far gone; into the drink, into poverty, or whatever their case may be. I’m aware that most of you are a heptillion miles from home with no family, unable to understand our language and customs. You just want to huddle in a corner with the other English-speaking refugees and shut the curtains to the outside.
I’m perfectly fine with that, too.
But understand this: you have no way home. I know I’m being blunt when I say this. We’ve been trying since the day that the last of our own points closed to pop them open again. They’re not budging. You are all stuck here.
So again, I’ll be blunt: whining about it isn’t going to help you any. Our government gives displaced persons a three-year grace period (unless you are a minor, in which case it’s three years or until you become a legal adult- 22- whichever is longer) and then you’re off their teat. Three years to learn our language (or at least well enough to possibly find a job that may not require that much talking- there are always trade schools looking for more hands), three years to find a house, apartment, crazy uncle’s couch, whatever.
Three years to cram what we’ve know for a lifetime into your skulls so that you can be a productive member of our society.
It’s harsh, direct, and brutal. My only job is to soften the blow as much as I can.
So here’s the deal:
I’m going to explain things using as little Shiba as possible.
This is not a language course; this is culture immersion. You’re going to see enough things that will piss you off, offend you, insult you, confuse you. Trying to deal with vocabulary in a language you don’t even understand is only going to compound the problem. Unless it is PHYSICHALLY IMPOSSIBLE to describe otherwise, or it’s somebody’s name, you won’t see the following sort of passages:
“…and the primany mode of transportation in the Nyong-an region is the hyakabei, similar to what you’d call on Earth a snowmobile, riding on a singular support hyaka, or ski, supported by two cherunga (claws)…”
No. No. No.
It’s close enough to an Earth snowmobile that I will call it a f***ing snowmobile. It sits on a main ski with two claws. See? Easy, direct. No problem. Took more time to whine about slipping in needless extra vocabulary than it did to spit the damn thing out.
Amd anyway, you’re holding a book. Did you really think that super advaced aliens would completely forgo the power of cheap information distribution that can be modified by liquid ink? Really?
Well, you’re holding a book and I’m going to talk. If you’re that desparate to know how to say every single thing you see on this trip, use the margins, use the notes pages. That’s what they’re there for. Doodle on this book. Dream in this book. Gossip about your tour guides (Kokyo and myself, Liriin, by the way) in this book. Make caricatures of the random people you meet on the street in this book. Find the picture of Prime Minister Seiba Hapute (hint: cherck the section on politics- in the chapter on Bete City) and give her devil horns and a beard for all I care. I’d find it hilarious.
I would be so much happier to see a beaten-up, written-in guide when this trip is over than one that’s blank and neat. It means you’ve looked in the book, absorbed it, and commented on what you saw. Those blank pages ain’t gonna fill themselves.
We have the next eighteen days together. Let’s have some fun.
-Mico Kogani-xiiran Lirin
English speaking guide, Shakanochi Travel Cooperative
Department of Integration and Accidential Exile, Bete City
Here's what I have so far:
There is a sort of symbiotic relationship between the existence of parents and boogeymen.
For example; two parents have decided that they want their spawn to behave. In order to make this happen, they would tell him/her that behaving will prevent some sort of monster to appear out of nowhere and eat or kidnap the child or something equally or more horrifying.
This parenting technique has existed since the beginning of time, and not just for humans; newly-hatched birds are told by their parents about furry beasts with monstrous claws and evil fangs, newly-amputated worms are told about savage talons swooping from the skies. Of course, humans have a more vivid and advanced imaginations. They can conjure up stranger, more monstrous beings.
After that, the parents would then leave the room, nest, hole, etc. knowing that their lives have just been made easier by traumatizing their child.
This is true, if the child behaves afterwards.
If not, something different happens.
It sounds kinda like a Hitchhiker's Guide entry, though.
I've got around 6 or so pages of the main character hearing two of his Uni flatmates have been murdered, rushing over to help out the third (who found the bodies) and talk to the cops. It's not very thrilling, but I'd already written the opening chapter, so this kinda needs to be done to establish the character and set up his desire to investigate the crime.
I got off to a kind of unspectacular start yesterday. It's funny how even when you know exactly what needs to happen, it can be hard to get started. (Knowing can make it even harder!)
Still, 1750 words so I met the daily goal. Only 29 days to go.
The sky burned bright, scorching the ground of south Texas as it had done for years. Residents were accustomed to it, adjusted to the searing hundred degree temperatures, and hotter still when the weather decided to be especially distasteful. Still, it was an annual custom, adjusting to the summer heat that started in early May and could stretch into mid October. Of course, the heat dipped as the months rolled on into the autumn season, but temperatures could still tip near the highs of ninety degrees.
Sweat was an almost defining characteristic of many of the inhabitants of the southern Texas, most of whom avoided any sort of exterior exercise in an effort to hide from the sun's wrath. Chores still needed to be done, lawns tended and roofs fixed. People tended their gardens, and in cities like San Antonio they jaunted down the Riverwalk, enjoying the slightly cooler temperatures that the river provided. In the shadow of hotel towers and restaurants, and the trees that lined the walkways, people could walk and enjoy themselves while avoiding the brunt of the heat that still scorched street level. This was why people chose to descend off the street, heading down the various stairs that dotted the streets and to the sidewalks that paved the river below, bars and restaurants lined up to provide entertainment for meandering pedestrians.
The sun still broke the shadows and trees, striking the river and pavement, yet not with the sheer intensity that it did above. It was no surprise that, given the environment of south Texas, that the region was considered a savanna. Animals from the other side of the world, in North Africa, had been safely moved and given wide areas to roam just north of the city of San Antonio. People could drive through these parks and from their window, safely observe Rhinos, Giraffes, Ostriches and the like. Most people visiting this region of the United States did not anticipate visiting an area almost equitable with parts of Africa and the Middle East, but the animals didn't seem capable of discerning much of a difference. Even in the mid 1800s, the United States military had experimented with the idea of using camels as opposed to horses for travel across Texas and into Arizona.
Heat, then, defined this region. When other parts of the country began to swelter at hundred degree temperatures, people in southern Texas simply shrugged their shoulders, having lived in such an environment for so long. They went about their day, mostly trying to stay out of the heat but understanding it was a part of life. Still, there were a brave few who ignored the sun, trotting out. They would strap their shoes on, their workout clothes and hit the streets, running bravely upon the burning pavement and carving out a few miles during a jog. San Antonians made their runs in the parks, along the river or on the streets near the university. Some faltered, visibly exhausted by the heat. Some seemed accommodated to it, brushing off the intense light of the sun, sweat dripping down their shoulders and backs.
[...]
It sounds kinda like a Hitchhiker's Guide entry, though.
It has a bit of that flavor, but I'd say it's even more like the introduction to something from Discworld. And I really love that stuff, so keep it up!
I'm starting to get half a mind to join in myself. There's this story idea I can't get out of my head. But I can't imagine writing fast enough to do 50k in a month.
Comments
No. I just started about 30 minutes ago and I'm a 1000 words in.
Depends on your formatting, but it's around 160-175 pages. The first year I did NaNoWriMo my novel was just above 50k and it came to 170 pages. (Which is very short for a novel, but pretty long for one month!)
Just written about 500 words, and man with work and all that I am not sure I can keep it to 1.666 words a day. But heck, if I just get some out its fine with me.
So far it's already full of bad writing, but I don't care I like it so far.
I'll be doing it as well this year, and now that I've finally moved to Liverpool, I'm able to go to the write-in meetings for it too. They gave me a sticker and sweets at the kick-off meeting! Best reason to keep going back! :P
What isn't convenient is that I write with pen & paper, so it's kinda hard to count how much I've written! I'm aiming for around three double-sided A4 sheets a day, which I estimate to be around 1,100 words or so. Do that 30 times, and I have 33,000 words.
What was the target again?
EDIT: It was 50,000. Crap. Looks like I'll be doing some extra work on my days off!
I'm going to be using pen and paper as well as I'm just not that fast at typing. I figured that instead I could read my work back to the computer using speech recognition. That of course means it won't understand a word I say, but will make entertaining reading!
Ah, but that's the point of NaNoWriMo! The structure of it makes you get over the worries and just *write*. Don't think. Just write. It can be 50,000 words of nonsense (but chances are a story will emerge way before you get that far.
Maybe we should see how many people are interested in critiquing first. Personally, I'd love to read what everyone's written and put forth my own pitiful efforts, but if I'm the only one who likes that, there isn't much of a point.
I greatly dislike midterms. Thank goodness I've only got one left before I can start greatly disliking finals.
You can be my writing buddy if nothing else
Sure. I've got the prologue already written from earlier and I'm just going to build onto that. Of course, when I say prologue, I'm talking about forty-five pages of mini plot stuff.
That sounds like it'll be humourous? I love stuff like that...
I know... but stories must begin at the beginning, my brain won't budge. Stupid brain. I could try a short story I started, I might be able to do a couple of them with different points of view. Now to make myself do it... I already missed today.
I'd be interested!
*Edit* Gone away from my overall idea, I am going to do interconnected short stories instead.
SHAKANOCHI TRAVEL COOPERATIVE
GUIDE FOR DISPLACED PERSONS
--ENGLISH—
Preface
I am one of the only tour guides in existence whose customers are neither paying nor altogether willing to go on a tour of some of the most beautiful and breathtaking places our civilization has to offer. H*ll, if I’m not mistaken, all of you are actually being paid for this, and I’d be surprised if even half of you want to go.
I’m perfectly fine with that.
I also understand that for many of you, this is a tough time. Not all of you, mind you, I’ve seen my share of people who have hugged the administrator at their drop point, for giving them a second chance when they were so far gone; into the drink, into poverty, or whatever their case may be. I’m aware that most of you are a heptillion miles from home with no family, unable to understand our language and customs. You just want to huddle in a corner with the other English-speaking refugees and shut the curtains to the outside.
I’m perfectly fine with that, too.
But understand this: you have no way home. I know I’m being blunt when I say this. We’ve been trying since the day that the last of our own points closed to pop them open again. They’re not budging. You are all stuck here.
So again, I’ll be blunt: whining about it isn’t going to help you any. Our government gives displaced persons a three-year grace period (unless you are a minor, in which case it’s three years or until you become a legal adult- 22- whichever is longer) and then you’re off their teat. Three years to learn our language (or at least well enough to possibly find a job that may not require that much talking- there are always trade schools looking for more hands), three years to find a house, apartment, crazy uncle’s couch, whatever.
Three years to cram what we’ve know for a lifetime into your skulls so that you can be a productive member of our society.
It’s harsh, direct, and brutal. My only job is to soften the blow as much as I can.
So here’s the deal:
I’m going to explain things using as little Shiba as possible.
This is not a language course; this is culture immersion. You’re going to see enough things that will piss you off, offend you, insult you, confuse you. Trying to deal with vocabulary in a language you don’t even understand is only going to compound the problem. Unless it is PHYSICHALLY IMPOSSIBLE to describe otherwise, or it’s somebody’s name, you won’t see the following sort of passages:
“…and the primany mode of transportation in the Nyong-an region is the hyakabei, similar to what you’d call on Earth a snowmobile, riding on a singular support hyaka, or ski, supported by two cherunga (claws)…”
No. No. No.
It’s close enough to an Earth snowmobile that I will call it a f***ing snowmobile. It sits on a main ski with two claws. See? Easy, direct. No problem. Took more time to whine about slipping in needless extra vocabulary than it did to spit the damn thing out.
Amd anyway, you’re holding a book. Did you really think that super advaced aliens would completely forgo the power of cheap information distribution that can be modified by liquid ink? Really?
Well, you’re holding a book and I’m going to talk. If you’re that desparate to know how to say every single thing you see on this trip, use the margins, use the notes pages. That’s what they’re there for. Doodle on this book. Dream in this book. Gossip about your tour guides (Kokyo and myself, Liriin, by the way) in this book. Make caricatures of the random people you meet on the street in this book. Find the picture of Prime Minister Seiba Hapute (hint: cherck the section on politics- in the chapter on Bete City) and give her devil horns and a beard for all I care. I’d find it hilarious.
I would be so much happier to see a beaten-up, written-in guide when this trip is over than one that’s blank and neat. It means you’ve looked in the book, absorbed it, and commented on what you saw. Those blank pages ain’t gonna fill themselves.
We have the next eighteen days together. Let’s have some fun.
-Mico Kogani-xiiran Lirin
English speaking guide, Shakanochi Travel Cooperative
Department of Integration and Accidential Exile, Bete City
There is a sort of symbiotic relationship between the existence of parents and boogeymen.
For example; two parents have decided that they want their spawn to behave. In order to make this happen, they would tell him/her that behaving will prevent some sort of monster to appear out of nowhere and eat or kidnap the child or something equally or more horrifying.
This parenting technique has existed since the beginning of time, and not just for humans; newly-hatched birds are told by their parents about furry beasts with monstrous claws and evil fangs, newly-amputated worms are told about savage talons swooping from the skies. Of course, humans have a more vivid and advanced imaginations. They can conjure up stranger, more monstrous beings.
After that, the parents would then leave the room, nest, hole, etc. knowing that their lives have just been made easier by traumatizing their child.
This is true, if the child behaves afterwards.
If not, something different happens.
It sounds kinda like a Hitchhiker's Guide entry, though.
Still, 1750 words so I met the daily goal. Only 29 days to go.
The sky burned bright, scorching the ground of south Texas as it had done for years. Residents were accustomed to it, adjusted to the searing hundred degree temperatures, and hotter still when the weather decided to be especially distasteful. Still, it was an annual custom, adjusting to the summer heat that started in early May and could stretch into mid October. Of course, the heat dipped as the months rolled on into the autumn season, but temperatures could still tip near the highs of ninety degrees.
Sweat was an almost defining characteristic of many of the inhabitants of the southern Texas, most of whom avoided any sort of exterior exercise in an effort to hide from the sun's wrath. Chores still needed to be done, lawns tended and roofs fixed. People tended their gardens, and in cities like San Antonio they jaunted down the Riverwalk, enjoying the slightly cooler temperatures that the river provided. In the shadow of hotel towers and restaurants, and the trees that lined the walkways, people could walk and enjoy themselves while avoiding the brunt of the heat that still scorched street level. This was why people chose to descend off the street, heading down the various stairs that dotted the streets and to the sidewalks that paved the river below, bars and restaurants lined up to provide entertainment for meandering pedestrians.
The sun still broke the shadows and trees, striking the river and pavement, yet not with the sheer intensity that it did above. It was no surprise that, given the environment of south Texas, that the region was considered a savanna. Animals from the other side of the world, in North Africa, had been safely moved and given wide areas to roam just north of the city of San Antonio. People could drive through these parks and from their window, safely observe Rhinos, Giraffes, Ostriches and the like. Most people visiting this region of the United States did not anticipate visiting an area almost equitable with parts of Africa and the Middle East, but the animals didn't seem capable of discerning much of a difference. Even in the mid 1800s, the United States military had experimented with the idea of using camels as opposed to horses for travel across Texas and into Arizona.
Heat, then, defined this region. When other parts of the country began to swelter at hundred degree temperatures, people in southern Texas simply shrugged their shoulders, having lived in such an environment for so long. They went about their day, mostly trying to stay out of the heat but understanding it was a part of life. Still, there were a brave few who ignored the sun, trotting out. They would strap their shoes on, their workout clothes and hit the streets, running bravely upon the burning pavement and carving out a few miles during a jog. San Antonians made their runs in the parks, along the river or on the streets near the university. Some faltered, visibly exhausted by the heat. Some seemed accommodated to it, brushing off the intense light of the sun, sweat dripping down their shoulders and backs.
I'm starting to get half a mind to join in myself. There's this story idea I can't get out of my head. But I can't imagine writing fast enough to do 50k in a month.