Manuscript Reading: 1 hour 45 minutes
So, I read through Bad Guys in, all told, 3 hours and 45 minutes. That’s a pretty quick read.
Seems a little too quick.
And I have discovered something kind of depressing, but only because it’s so, weirdly, validating: this story feels pretty soulless.
But yes, validating, because in writing this book – as with Wolf Gang before it – I was pretty much trying to write a book that was a bit soulless. A giddy, unapologetic recycling of tropes and cliches for its own sake – and it reads like that. It reads like a book that has nothing to offer that hasn’t already been offered, and probably better, in some other book. So, basically, I succeeded in doing what I set out to accomplish with Bad Guys.
And now I have to decide if that’s good enough.
Because it could be. It could be fine to have this hacktastic story just be hacktastic, to not try and find ways of making it more interesting or original or whatever the opposite of “soulless” is, and just embrace it being a pretty cheap, derivative bit of fluff that you might buy to read on a plane. No substance, all someone else’s style.
Or it could be that, as has happened before, the second readthrough is always quite a bit harsher than the first one, and considerably more harsh than the third.
Having said that, though, I know that I had ideas that weren’t soulless and uninspired for this project – I just didn’t push myself to write them, because I was afraid of getting them ‘wrong’. But that means that this might actually be the perfect time for me to write them, when I’m looking for an opportunity to write something that I care about even if it’s potentially going to embarrass me that I wrote it.
It might be a sign that I should go with a rewrite instead of a revision.
Then again – it’s nothing super detailed, but I have started having ideas for little scenes and events that could potentially evolve into stories. And even if not, I’m finding that I care about these ideas, which says to me that I should take the opportunity to write them while I have the passion for them, before it runs out. So it could also be a sign that this is the perfect time to just follow through with the original plan of revising Bad Guys, letting it be kind of trash, and simultaneously be working on these bits and pieces of potential story material that, regardless of their potential, I do actually care about.
Basically, I see two options for Nanowrimo: full focus on Bad Guys and striving to make it a story that I care about on the one hand, and on the other a “just for kicks” revision exercise to compliment a series of writing exercises to get me in the habit of writing down my story-like ideas when I have them, while I care about them, and giving them the opportunity to grow into something larger (without trying to force it to happen).
They both seem like pretty good options.
I have two days to choose – either way, though, I’m doing something with Bad Guys, so I guess it’s time to make a decision.
In the morning. Because it’s like 1:30 in the morning right now and I want this decision to count.
Revision Brainstorm: 1 hour 20 minutes
You know what I discovered/rediscovered today? The Dungeons and Dragons cartoon TV series from the ’80s. Man I am not excited to watch any more of it than the 4-ish minutes I committed to the first episode of this show – and yet …
Reading Dragonlance Chronicles earlier this year, I found myself presented with an unexpected reading experience that, broadly speaking, I would describe as “weird”. It put me in mind of a D&D game session that someone turned into a novel, but it also reminded me of The Lord of the Rings, both in terms of blatant copy-and-paste events and stakes throughout the story, and in terms of the pacing – not so much the books, but the Peter Jackson film adaptation of The Fellowship of the Ring.
Because everything that happens, happens very quickly. They’re in Solace; they escape Solace. They get to Qualinesti; they leave Qualinesti. They go to some temple; there’s a dragon in the temple; now they’re not in the temple anymore but there’s this old ruined castle and there’s a sword and a giant spider and hey wait another fortress with another dragon and just …
The Fellowship of the Ring is my favourite of the LoTR film trilogy, and that’s even despite the fact that, in terms of pacing and especially editing, it often feels like a 3-hour-long trailer of itself. This may be due to the fact that I read the books before I saw the films (specifically to prepare for seeing the films), but regardless, the first time I saw the film I was very unexpectedly aware of how the pacing and editing coloured my perception of the story. I still loved it, and as time went on only grew to love it more, though now thanks to a certain prequel trilogy that love has been more than a little tarnished, and yes I am bitter as hell about it.
Dragonlance, I suppose, might have the same effect upon repeat readings, wherein spending more of my time on the events and characters in the hit-and-run series of events that constitutes the trilogy makes it seem like the stories themselves are devoting more of their time to fleshing them out, when really it’s me doing all the heavy lifting. And to be clear, I don’t think this is necessarily a bad thing. I just definitely don’t think it’s a good thing. If you need to read a book again to really enjoy the experience, then that’s not the book for me – neither as a reader or a writer.
Which brings me to Bad Guys, and how upon finishing my second readthrough the other day I concluded that it felt a bit “soulless”, because that “soulless” quality came from this same issue of pacing – or, perhaps more accurately, the issue of nothing that happens feeling like it matters in the grand scheme of things. Though to be fair, I’m trying to meaningfully compare an edited and published series of book to my zero draft manuscript completed in two months. I suppose the fact that I saw such a strong similarity to begin with reveals my general opinion of Dragonlance – and yeah, it’s not my favourite.
There is something about it, something about this sort of by-the-numbers High Fantasy trope-peddling that appeals to me at a core level. I like elves and dragons and wizards; I like evil empires, and chosen ones, and princesses provided that there are other women characters who are afforded meaningful participation in the story and aren’t restricted to being sultry temptresses – I like the trappings of High Fantasy, and I even like some of the cliches of High Fantasy.
As a writer.
And while I’m busy trying to decide whether to stage a full-on rewrite of Bad Guys or instead take a more conservative, safe, stable option in the form of a second draft/revision, while simultaneously not really feeling like I care that much about the story at this exact moment, this High Fantasy shit is getting me kinda hype. I am relishing the prospect of starting off a story where all the central members of the soon-to-be-fellowship are gathered at a fucking tavern, where some kind of mysterious stranger shows up and brings news of unsettling events happening closer to home than anyone cares to acknowledge, where one of the characters is the subject or inheritor of a world-saving prophecy/object/power and they’re Called to Adventure, and then they go out into the fucking woods and there are monsters and they meet a princess and there are some kind of ringwraith-stubstitutes who chase them, basically I want to write Eragon it sounds like …
I am about that right now.
And this is not the first time I’ve felt like this right around Nano time, or even during it. Today I was having a look at my Nanowrimo page and, after finally discovering how to look at all of my projects (yes, I did click the “projects” option but it only showed me my very first one for some reason), decided to take a trip down memory lane and look at some of my older blog posts. Specifically, I wanted to look back on my experiences of Nanowrimos past and see how I was doing at the time. In so doing, I was reacquainted with a particular moment in my 2017 Nano experience where I had decided to create a story that existed within the story I was telling, a film franchise to basically stand in for Star Wars. And this “moment” was me deciding that, actually, that story was so much better than the one I was writing, and I should write it instead.
This story-within-a-story was, in fact, a High Fantasy story about a young boy who was transported from the modern world into a High Fantasy world that he was Chosen to save because he was good and brave and true and look you get it, right, this was not original, nor was it intended to be. Not in terms of the plot anyway – I actually am still very invested in the particular world-building I did for it, the magic system, the aesthetic – the SFX, in other words, which tells me that, in terms of creating an ’80s High Fantasy film trilogy, I am right the fuck on the money. I spent a day devoted to writing as much of this story as I could, testing it out, getting the ball rolling, and letting myself get hype about diving into this High Fantasy world, writing tropes for the sheer giddy sake of writing High Fantasy tropes, and just generally setting out to have some goddamn fun.
And the very next post, I was there to report that, after trying exactly that, the new story actually wasn’t that interesting and I couldn’t take it anymore.
And this reminds me of the way that, when I was fourteen years old, I came up with another High Fantasy story that I called, super-imaginatively, Realm of the Myth, and it turned out to be about as imaginative and original and, how can I put this, worthwhile as that title might suggest, which is to say that even at the tender and impulsive age of fourteen I could tell that this story just didn’t have anywhere to go. I indulged in some tropes, even tried to play with them and do something original with them, and at the end of the day I just couldn’t keep caring after I had started out so excited.
And this is what tends to happen every single time I set out to write High Fantasy. The initial investment is there; I like staring out in a High Fantasy world, getting the ball rolling – there’s something quite satisfying about it. Yet once it comes time to actually set out on the Adventure, I lose all interest. I foresee the rest of the story and, for some reason, those particular tropes don’t appeal to me as much as the ones that kick off any self-respecting, blatantly derivative High Fantasy narrative.
But maybe that’s because I don’t actually want to write these tropes; I just want to experience them. Like, right now, I want to indulge in some good old-fashioned High Fantasy feels – and I’ve had LoTR ruined for me, plus I’ve already seen it well over a hundred times by now …
Well, there’s a Netflix show called The Dragon Prince. Not being super into CGI TV shows not called Reboot, I kind of wrote it off as soon as I saw the trailer a couple of years ago, but today I feel like giving it a go. Maybe this will scratch the itch.
The Dragon Prince did not, in fact, scratch the itch.
Here’s what it did do: made me very keenly aware of how far we haven’t come, when the creators of Avatar, who are outwardly all aboard the woke-train, create a High Fantasy world in which the king is black, two brave rulers of a neighbouring kingdom are lesbian queens, and proceed to kill all three of them off within an episode of introducing them.
… and okay to be fair I did watch both currently-available seasons, and while it’s literally just reskinned, less-interesting Avatar it is absolutely watchable …
But come on, guys. Come the fuck on.
It’s also … I mean, yes, it’s a series, but the episodic feel just really isn’t doing it for me. Perhaps especially so after being reminded of Dragonlance and how I wasn’t exactly in love with the episodic nature of the story there, either.
I guess, though, all of this reflection upon High Fantasy narratives and my own recurring urges to start a High Fantasy story, even if I can’t bring myself to finish, is giving me a clearer idea of what it is, exactly, that’s going on with me here.
Oh also therapy.
Which is, basically, that I tend to approach many things in life – maybe everything – as a means to an end. If I’m trying to create a writing “plan”, it’s the means by which I meet the end of having written a book. If I’m trying to make a schedule by which to organise my life, it’s the means by which I meet the end of feeling less anxious and guilty. If I’m angsting about having nothing interesting to say or anything to offer another human being by way of an interesting interaction, it is the means by which I meet the end of either 1) trying to figure out how to manipulate some person into giving me emotional validation by acknowledging my existence or 2) excusing myself from a social situation in which I feel uncomfortable so that I can justify hermiting it up in my room.
Which is pretty miserable and unsatisfying, even though the logic is clear. Doing X results in Y. Sure.
It’s just that X is kind of shitty, and Y isn’t even necessarily what I want – and that’s what I’m thinking about my predicament with High Fantasy. Also my life in general, but I am sticking to the thin excuse of this blog being a “writing blog” as the means by which I meet the end of justifying not going TMI mode in this particular blog post.
Wolf Gang was, I now realise, such a pivotal moment for me as both a writer and a human being because I wrote it for its own sake. I was interested to play with the tropes for the sake of playing with the tropes; and the reason that, after skipping the “boring” chapters that I “needed” to make the story “feel complete”, I found that it took another full fucking year to complete those chapters after finishing the majority of the project, is because those chapters were the means by which I met the end of having “finished the book”.
But finishing the book wasn’t really what I wanted. What I wanted was to enjoy playing with tropes, and by the time I’d written the first two-thirds of what is now the completed manuscript, I had done that already. Much like how with Realm of the Myth, when I first set out to write it at age fourteen, I had my fun writing the bits that I wrote, got to the part where the “real story” was going to begin, and realised that, actually, I’d gotten everything that I wanted to get out of the experience, and anything beyond that would be pointless – in terms of being honest about what I actually wanted.
But because that also wasn’t a completed book, and I had this dream of being a published author as a young person because I was in fact a young person and was really feeling myself, this lack of interest in doing something “more” with the project became a problem – because I made it a problem. I conflated “writing a novel to completion” with “writing being worthwhile”. And I’ve been realising over the years that this kind of thinking is wrongheaded and the source of so many of my ongoing issues, but not until today’s therapy session, where my wonderful therapist recommended – and read a bit from – a book called Everything Is F*cked by Mark Manson, yes I’m taken in this shit is so appealing to me I am a total sheep etc. …
It’s a really useful way to think about it.
Because now I realise, where my High Fantasy itches are concerned, that the part of the High Fantasy formula that I most gravitate towards – the start – is the part that I most gravitate towards, and that’s enough.
… yeah that does feel unsatisfying.
I mean, no, I don’t think that I should continue the habit of shaming myself into “believing” that finishing novels is more important than enjoying them, and I do think that being able to acknowledge that, even if it seems like only an incomplete part of a greater undertaking, my getting enjoyment and satisfaction out of the start of a High Fantasy story is fine as an end in and of itself. It’s great, even, because it’s actually not like I even have any ideas that I like for a complete High Fantasy story. Maybe I can’t monetize this shit – but then again, if I put my mind to it, maybe I can! And regardless of that, I can enjoy doing it for its own sake.
But at the same time – well, it’s actually another end in and of itself, to be fair. I like the challenge of getting stuck on a story, of having gotten to the point where I’ve had all the fun I set out to have, and then pushing myself to go farther. I relish that – certainly looking back, if not in the moment itself. But it’s a moment of challenge and tension, of meeting my current limits, and that is also a moment of immense creative energy to take advantage of. Writing Bad Guys over Camp Nano and August was the best of both worlds, where I had a ton of fun writing it for its own sake, and also got the opportunity – many times – to push through periods of doubt and frustration, finding creative solutions to the problem of, simply, running out of ideas.
I ran out of ideas with Realm of the Myth when I was fourteen and left it alone – but a year later, I got more ideas and came back. To be fair, I also ran out of steam that time because, actually, I was coming up with too many ideas to comfortably fit into a single story, or at least too fast for me to be able to effectively process those ideas with my writing strategies at the time. And that just became overwhelming. I refused to give up, though, because I saw my inability to fit every single goddamn idea that I had into the story as a failure on my part, and the whole project became an exercise in trying to maintain enough shame over not managing to find a way to “make it work” to keep trying to “make it work”, even though absolutely nothing that I did actually worked, and I knew it – that was what kept me feeling ashamed of myself, after all.
And actually, this is the first time I’ve been able to see it this way. I didn’t fail at the project because the ideas were bad, or the story was weak, or it was too self-indulgent: I failed at it because I became so fixated on the problem of “how to write this stupid fucking High Fantasy series that is supposed to be giving me joy” that the cycle of self-shaming and refusing to “quit” became the project, the goal of “finishing” an unsatisfactory end that I employed the means of treating myself like a malfunctioning robot in order to reach. I moved away from writing for the sake of writing itself, having fun with the ideas that I did have and liked, to something utilitarian and utterly divorced from any actual desire to do it in the first place.
And also because I didn’t have very good strategies of managing the onslaught of ideas; to be fair I don’t think they’re too much better now, either – but at the same time …
They might be good enough.
I keep coming back to this project, this general concept for a story – at least the start of one. I keep getting this feeling, this uplifting swell of possibility and excitement and, I dunno, romance when the story finds its way back to the forefront of my mind, or when I have an idea that I think would fit with it. I gave up on it “for real” back in 2011, and I gave it up for the right reason: it wasn’t working, hadn’t been working for years, and insisting on keeping the project alive while feeling utterly hopeless about it was only making me miserable. I gave up for the right reasons – but still without actually understanding why it wasn’t working. I think I do now.
And if I know why it wasn’t working …
I’m writing Bad Guys.
Revision Planning: 5 hours-ish
I had to make a lot of executive decisions with this Nano plan for Bad Guys. I’m still actually not quite ready, because I’m so close to making a bunch of ideas that I thought were incompatible, uh, compatible, and I feel like diving into the second draft process (different to a revision process, in my mind anyway: revision is editing, drafting is somewhere between revision and rewriting) with the plan I have currently means giving up on bringing those ideas together.
Yet at the same time, I am not here to sabotage myself. I gotta get started – the means by which I meet the end of yeah look it’s really useful, truly, I am having so many epiphanies right now, I am really happy that my therapist put me on to this, and sometimes you just need to employ some ends-justify-the-means thinking to get shit done.
But, having said that, I think there’s actually a solution here that lets me have my ends-cake and eat it, too.
I just write this thing out of order.
I know most of the plan – let me call it what it is: a novel outline, not really a plan because I’m still figuring that part out – for this second draft; I know that most of the scenes/chapters that I want to include actually don’t impact this big crucial could-solve-everything decision. So if I jump ahead a bit in terms of the chronology of the story, or just kick myself off by writing the parts that I know I am definitely keeping, then I can buy some time to come up with this genius will-solve-everything plan and get started on this second draft.
I mean …
It’s smart. It’s practical. It’s a compromise, but it gets me two things that I, on paper, want.
But if I’m being honest, I just want to solve this goddamn problem. I want to know what, exactly, I’m committing to, in terms of what to expect out of myself, in terms of setting up a plan to make it easy and achievable for myself, and in terms of what I’m looking forward to achieving by undertaking this Nanowrimo process. Which has already frustrated me a little bit by not being as flexible in its goal-setting system as Camp Nanowrimo, so my goal is 120,000 words rather than a certain number of hours, when I wanted a certain number of hours for a goal. I should probably just not even bother with the Nanowrimo goal-tracking process and use it solely for … well I don’t even know. No cabins this time around so group accountability/support is not the same as it was in July, though my co-writing buddy is participating as well to revise her novel and I’m glad we have each other to lean on …
Yeah, I have to sort this out before I start. Or, rather, I’m going to sort this out before I start. Yes I’ll miss out on one of those fucking badges or whatever, but my goal is bullshit anyway, this isn’t the year that I win Nanowrimo. Maybe next year. This is the end that I want, and there are no arbitrary means that I need to undertake to achieve it …
And now that I’ve said that, I kind of want the compromise, because I like the feeling of being efficient and practical sometimes, and …
You know what? I’ll do something, and I’ll get there. It’ll be fine. But only once I wrap up this part of the post.
Okay. Nanowrimo 2019 Day One – let’s roll.
So I’ve got two Nanowrimo projects now.
Yesterday I just gave up on, and I think in a sense I was right to do so. I want to resolve this conflict with my plan for Bad Guys, and it’s not so that I can clear the way to get started – this is how I get started. Because whatever the resolution to this conflict ends up being, it is the answer to the question of what story I’m telling. And I want to feel clear with this project. All this ends/means shit – it’s useful, it’s enlightening, and I’m way too new at thinking about it to employ it casually.
However – while my Bad Guys plan is a bit ends-justify-means-y and I’m actually happy about that at this stage in the process, I do also want something to write just for its own sake. And after reflecting on Realm of the Myth and the feeling of possibility that I get from High Fantasy – a feeling that gives me a hope that the genre itself very rarely, if ever, actually lives up to – I realise that there’s no need for me to stop myself from just indulging in some High Fantasy writing.
Specifically, world-building, and writing first chapters and/or prologues that never get a follow-up, and just random little scenes and events that take my fancy. I’m about that right now.
So that’s my “real” Nanowrimo project – because it’s the one that I can measure with a word-count and have it feel meaningful.
Bad Guys, on the other hand, is … well, I could do it that way, but it would feel dishonest. This is a second draft, which means to me that while there’s a lot of re-using and re-purposing existing things that I’ve written, for all intents and purposes it is a new story. I’m even thinking that one way to solve the current conflict I’m facing is to make it longer, make it a serial story – yes, “episodic”, but episodes that all serve to tell a single, coherent story, rather than each episode feeling pretty self-contained and isolated from the rest. I think it’s probably too much work, but given how much stuff I have with this story that I feel attached to, it might be the right work. At the very least, it’s good to have the option in mind.
But being honest, I like this story as a novel, it feels right – and I am sure that I can find a resolution to this story conflict I’m having. I just need time to do it …
And, yeah, I need to get started. The sooner the better, because it feels bad to have skipped day 1 of Nanowrimo, not because I’m a horrible person for not doing it, but because I made a commitment to myself that I would do it, and I have failed in that commitment. I have let myself down. It’s not the end of the world, but still, it doesn’t feel great.
But whatever; I enjoyed doing my little worldbuilding, scene-setting High Fantasy writing today, and I do think this will probably end up being my opportunity to explore this concept of “High Urban Fantasy” I’ve had in mind for a while now. It’s weird – I’m generally frustrated with High Fantasy that focuses on the worldbuilding, but I think that’s just because it’s often at the expense of characters and meaningful events. If I can have all of that … well, that’s what I think I want out of High Fantasy, and if I can’t find it “out there”, I guess I’ll have to provide for myself.
I’m rather looking forward to this.
Second Draft Brainstorming: I dunno a lot
Probably over 5 hours at this point because I keep going around in circles and this is stupid and I just need to write what I’ve got, even though it doesn’t quite make sense and the sequence of events is all wrong, I just need to get started or it’s not going to happen. And I want this to happen.
Besides, I can just draft it again, right? Or maybe I’ll come up with solutions as I go. It’s been known to happen on occasion.
But yeah, I’ve almost come to a solution so many times just today, only to have some other fiddly detail trip me up, and it’s gotten to the point where I’m pretty sure that the problem isn’t actually meshing my ideas together comfortably, it’s being unwilling to let go of some really iconic moments that I want to have happen that just don’t work together. So, essentially, the same issue as the zero draft.
I guess that means the same solution has a decent chance of working here, right?
It’s better than just going around in circles – and at least now I have this secondary project to work on when I need a break from the self-made mindgames I’m getting caught up in with Bad Guys. It’s such a simple, beautiful premise, and I’m ruining it by being both a perfectionist and completely indecisive. I’m too afraid to get it wrong.
And what’s my whole thing these days?
Care, and show that you care, even if it embarrasses you. Time to take my own advice.
Second Draft Brainstorming: 4 hours
THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU DON’T STICK TO THE FUCKING PLAN.
Brainstorming/Planning: 17 hours-ish
No, let’s be precise: this is what happens when you don’t have a plan – or when you do have one, but it’s very vague, and then you learn all this philosophical shit about “means and ends” and you get really obsessed about achieving ideological purity because you’re a fucking lemming and apparently going through undergrad wasn’t quite enough to get the taking-theories-about-how-to-live-a-perfect-life-way-too-fucking-literally out of your system because in this day and age even evolution has to cut corners somewhere …
I have to admit, though, I actually don’t feel bad about this. I just feel frustrated with myself, but that’s just out of principle.
I’m kind of enjoying myself, gotta be honest.
I have spent over ten hours this week just trying to write and think my way to a successful, perfect, foolproof plan for the Bad Guys second draft. Nanowrimo’s stupid rigid goal-setting parameters threw me off-course; therapy threw me off-course; and the optimism that I had – and still have – for being able to “figure it out” and have my cake and eat it too with this project has thrown me way the fuck off-course. Every time I feel like I’m getting close to a solution, I somehow end up veering so far in the other direction that it makes the overarching problem of “how to get started with this thing” even worse because I just end up finding a new obstacle to getting started that needs its own solution, rinse and repeat ever since I started trying to make this fucking revision/second draft plan.
I’m intelligent, but it seems I’m not very smart, because I’ve been spending the past three days making the same mistakes over and over and over the fuck again. But hey, it’s time for Monthly Words; maybe upon reflection and taking a step back to look at the bigger picture I’ll finally be able to see what the pattern is, and put a stop to this nonsense.
I am just pretty done with Nanowrimo right now, and it’s barely even begun, just because all of my plans and preparation for diving headlong into it have been completely destabilised by this new “I must only ever do things that I see as ends in and of themselves and always avoid doing things that are means to other ends” thing, because I’m desperate for a quick fix to the inane baggage carousel that is my life. Ironically, but more importantly predictably, it has only made things harder to deal with.
I am seeing a pattern.
And yet, again, I don’t feel bad about myself for doing this. I think it’s important, more important that Nano, even more important than upholding my commitment to myself to do this fucking revision or second draft or whatever the fuck I’m not doing because gotta have that plan, that perfect goddamn plan that will solve all the problems, which I’m constantly trying to sabotage as I try to make it probably because the plan is a means to an end and not an end in and of itself which makes it evil or whatever …
But you see, the irony is, brain, that you are now using this whole “only do things that are ends in and of themselves” thing as a means to an end. You fool! You have become the very thing you swore to destroy!
So you know what?
Fuck Nanowrimo. This year at least. I thought it was going to be something that it turned out not to be: useful to this specific stage in my writing process with Bad Guys. I really need a Camp Nano for what I’m trying to do here; the zero draft, ideally, would have been “real” Nano – but I was not about to wait four months to get started when I’d worked myself up to it.
I’m a bit pissed that I did work myself up to this revision only to stall out when push came to shove, but I also just was so wrongheaded about my decision-making this week in general. I wasn’t decisive enough with Bad Guys to build up meaningful momentum; I haven’t been honest enough with myself about what’s really holding me back from choosing a “plan” for this draft …
Which is that I don’t have one to choose, and I just need to start writing and fucking deal with it.
I used to detest that phrase thanks to the frequency with which a certain ex-best-friend of mine used to say it to me; it’s so fucking condescending. But now I realise that, since I’m the one using it and I can read my own mind, I know that it comes with a level of trust, trust that I can deal with it if I throw myself into it.
My expectations for Nanowrimo were not met and that makes me angry and upset; but overall I’m actually in a pretty great mood. I’ve enjoyed being a stupid giddy naive looking-for-a-shortcut philosophy undergrad student for the past few days, even if it’s fucked everything else up – because I can deal with this.
And I’m pretty done with my High Fantasy writing exercises for now, I think …
But kind of ready to just write some High Fantasy, for its own sake. I think planning for “writing exercises” wasn’t enough of a commitment; I actually want commitment, as I’ve been saying over and over for the past … year, I think. Might pay to listen to myself.
As for Bad Guys? Well, I have enough of a plan, I have enough of a vision to get started at least. I’m open to planning as I need it, as I go, which is an idea I’ve had and felt very excited about many times – and hey, it kind of worked with the zero draft! But no more stalling. Even if all I end up with is a bunch of disconnected scenes that don’t fit together in the shape of a story, I got some ideas and I’m eager to get them out of my head and into writing.
Okay. No more stalling.
… after Monthly Words at least boom gotcha … myself … well done …