gone (guardianmars) wrote in _infection, @ 2007-12-09 06:19:00 |
|
|||
Current mood: | busy |
Current music: | Resident Evil 0 |
[date: October 8, 2007]I considered reviving the polarishotel journal here, (Thanks for shutting down new account creation instead of just putting in a 'prove you're human code, GJ. Fucking genius.) but finally have decided against it. The piece(s) I'm working on this year are in an entirely different vein, and so I find that although it is an inspiring journal, created the year that I actually completed Nano (for all intents and purposes) it's time to move on past something stagnant.
2004. The crowning glory of masochistic achievement; my Nano account is a testament to it - Created October 31, 2004. The day before the internment into hell, and I did it. No point, no plot, no characters. "Stanley" never did get a name of his own, and breathed his support of his original basis character for the entirety of the novel. "Leonard" suffered a similar decline into virtual non-existance.
Still, one chapter still stands out in my mind; Stanley's vicious murder of my plot-bunnies personified and brought to vivid, grotesque detail. It's some of my best writing to date (with the exception of that little Silent Hill 4 ficlet that I will never finish.) I'm hoping to at least meet that level of prose somewhere within this rambling 50,000 words I will be attempting to churn out over the next 30 days.
That being said, I'm also taking on an additional challenge this year - lightningrapier will also be participating in Nano, and my job is to encourage her to complete a novel that is 4 years in the making. All The Good Men Dead. In that encouragement, we're hoping, together, to turn out 100,000 words for that one, still meeting Nano guidelines by doing 50,000 each. I don' know if I can personally muster a full 100,000 words myself this year; 50,000 for All The Good Men Dead and 50,000 for Infection. I'd like to lie myself into believing I can, but for me, a sense of accomplishment will be the finished product of just one of these by the end of the month. While I'm enthralled with mine, I have more riding on hers; I really want that one finished. I've been pushing her for plot for years, and now that there's something cognitive on the table, I can taste it; agonizing in its distance - taunting me.
Wish me luck.
Wish us luck.
I have 100,000 words to write this November, and I swear to God, I'll probably just end up killing myself by the end of it. Expect to see my eyes gouged out and fingers in a pile next to the keyboard where I've ripped them from their sockets.
This is not 2004; I have a job this year. I have obligations. I have Umbrella Chronicles coming out in the middle of the goddamn month, and no idea how I think I'm going to be able to resist the urge to throw these novels in the fire for this shiny new game.
There is, of course, the ever-present probability that we will both be completely incapable of playing it, thus freeing up a new need to abuse poor Dr. Isenhour to work out my frustrations. I have a feeling that over the next month, he will become my new personal damnit-doll.
"Damnit, Chris, go up the stairs." *beats Isenhour into unconsciousness* "Damnit Chris, I said SHOOT THE FUCKING THING." *emotionally traumatizes Isenhour as a result of Chris' beligerance*
Um...yes. Pay no mind to the whimpering Doctor in the corner. He's earned this torment, I assure you.