NaNoWriMo Postmortem

I reached the 50,000 word goal set by the folks at NaNoWriMo. It was a long month, one where I felt like I was working overtime, with my day job (conclusion on that question: don't quit it) and with waking up early to write, as well as writing immediately after work. It was exhausting, but I hit the mark.

I did this not by spending full days writing, not by pouring thousands of words on the page over a weekend, but by steadily making the daily goal set by the challenge itself. This actually worked very well for me. In the end, I only had a few days where I missed this goal.

Now the problem is maintaining momentum.

NaNoWriMo 2010

I'm participating in National Novel Writing Month this year, and am actually keeping myself relatively on target. You can follow my progress here, or with the little widget on the side bar.

As for what I'm writing about? It's a science fiction novel about a moment of change in the unchanging history of a generation ship, with centuries of travel between the nearest star. It is about how the seemingly simple act of changing course has vast consequences for a people whose concerns cover not just their own generation but of all the rest to come.

Wish me luck.

Digging

Poor William spent his day sifting through the heap of disks piled at his feet. He crouched down and, holding each disk carefully, turning them around in his hands, separated the good from the bad. Some had eroded connectors, some had rust on the casing, other cracked - each a sure sign of moisture damage. These he tossed with a clatter into the corner. Those that passed inspection were carefully wrapped in old, anti-static bags and put into his satchel. His hope was to find some useful information on at least one of them.

The dank walls of this old data center had kept away most scavengers. The low ceilings - or, rather, high floors - kept the air heavy and wet. That same raised floor also was certain to be hiding pools of water, which had probably come in through the main entrance, and trickled down the deep tunnel into the main chamber. Most would think that the data in a place like this had rotted away like so much wood, but Poor William was sure a digital diamond might be found among the moldy rough.

A Quick Update

I missed last weeks deadline, which, if you've been paying attention, is roughly Sunday-writing, Tuesday-publish, at the latest. I had a bit of a rough weekend. Turns out Berlin beers are not that good for me.

I had one. Honest. That's how bad they are for my system.

I am working on a story at the moment - I did still get a good start on Sunday - that I hope to have finished up for this weekend. It's a bit of a post-apocalyptic number, so that's new for me. I will be on vacation for the next couple of weeks, as well, so I'm not sure if I will get something published over that time. I will make sure I can get a story written while I'm gone.

A Letter Recalling Miss Clara Beaumont

May 21, 1901.


Dear Mr. Phinneaus,

I hope my letter finds you in good health and recalls me, Miss Clara Beaumont, to you.

I must first and foremost confess, ever since your visit to out little town of St. Charles Ferry, I have not been able to clear you from my mind. Your heroic actions, not unlike a Hercules, have also made a tremendous impression on me and the town as a whole.

Were you aware that the mayor has commissioned a statue, in your honor, to be placed in the town square? It is to be place very near to the monument to Fallen Soldiers of the Grand Army of the Republic - a high honor indeed, sir. Your great reputation has you dealing with all kinds of other-worldly events for the most important of worldly men, that I would certainly not think poorly of you, if you have forgotten us.

Navel Gazing

In the beginning, there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. I mean, think about it: no space, no time, no matter, just nothing. A whole lot of nothing. Or a whole little. Hard to think about, isn't it? But, that sort of nothing didn't last long^[1].

The Universe happened.

Go

"What happened to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. Where the hell were you last night?"

"I was out."

"Damn it, Artie, that's not an answer."

"Look, Dad, you know I was out with Dak and his buddies. We were just hanging out."

"Until seven this morning? No, that's not acceptable. Not in my house. You will get ready for school and get on your way, right now. And as of right now, you are grounded. When you get home, I will tell you for how long."

"What? You're kidding me. I was just out late! It's not like we got into any trouble or anything."

"Grounded. Final. Go."

Drinks

Sunday morning.

"Oh. God."

The headache was split by the early morning light slicing through the cracks of the bedroom curtains, the payback for over indulgence the night before.

Simon rolled to a sitting position on the edge of the bed, and waited for the resulting wave of nausea to pass. After a few minutes his body calmed once more, His head drooped and started. He had fallen into a half sleep while perched there, head in hands.

The night before: Dan's party. It's memory, vague, cloudy, uneasy, came in slow flashes. It started clearly, and quickly went blurry, as Dan's parties always do.

Titan

There are limits to the use of growth treatments, and Bill had certainly found it. His body bubbled with giant, tumors of muscle. His frame was huge to begin with - large bones, great height - but with these growths of pure strength, he was a titan. A titan with a door problem.

A Letter From the Society Regarding the Nature of the Monster of Kankakee County

December 15, 1903.

Dear Mr. Phinneaus,

I'm writing in regards to you recent conflagration with the Monster of Kankakee County. I know that you were called upon by the residents of the town of St. Anne, and I know that you faced - and received -  grave injury.

Yet, I and my compatriots - the Society for the Preservation of Mystical, Rare, and Otherwise Misunderstood Creatures -- a Society of renown, with respect to the understanding of said creatures - feel that your particular solution for dealing the Monster was excessive.  By excessive,  we refer specifically to your killing of the Monster.