IFWA -- NANOWRIMO

I think my writing in this blog will become more and more random until:

a) it reaches critical mass and implodes, taking the internet with it

b) the other people on this blog start writing in it again

Since the Internet has yet to implode under the sheer mass of the goatse.cx references, option "a" is not likely. Randomness will now ensue.

I'm eventually going to start a photo lab blog, but not today. Until then, I will post the interesting things I've seen in other people's pictures.

This week: Dead people

There are not words to describe how much I hate it when people take pictures of dead people and dead animals. Dead people with their eyes pinned shut against their strong will to life, lying crammed in the unnatural ways only the dead can in caskets. Against another roll's background of eleven bloodstained Canada geese.

People are sick.

And yet my fucking employer won't let me develop any picutures of people in any state of undress. Whatever. Big whatever.

The thesis of my next essay will be that I have never seen anyone look sad in a nude photo. Though I have seen people look sad in death.

To me, sex has always been the best way to say "fuck you" to death.

One fellow brought in some nudes (in a very shy and embarrassed way that I will relate another time) to give to his girlfriend so she'd think of him while he was away working in northern Alberta. Maybe that's why I took those pictures.

And because no one will ever read this blog again, I'll relate this one thought. While I definitely enjoy taking nude photos, most of all I'm happy someone once took some of me. When I'm having an especially self-conscious day, I can look at them and stop feeling bad about myself.

Tomato can grow the most colourful varieties of mould. At least that you would see in a domestic setting. And the heights it reaches even in the harsh setting of my refridgerator always impress me.

You may ask why I'm writing this. It is to test my mother's theory that it is not what you write about, but how you write it.

Next to the tomatoes (which I did have to throw out) are two jars of beets. Both have sentimental value. My mother loved pickled beets, but always in a jar; never in a can. Neither jar shows any signs of rot, so they retain their places at the back of the first and second shelves.

I am unsure about the use of parentheses in my prior paragraph. Perhaps there is an insightful essay to be found on my tumescent bookshelves.

Only a metre and a half from the beets are the ashes of the woman who bought them. And only a metre and a half farther is the desk at which I do most of my writing. And the chair, short one castor, where I currently sit. My body's protestations are only mild this night, because the voice keeping me in this chair are far greater than the voices telling me to get out--to run.

Above I attempt to emulate the style of Leonard Cohen from Beautiful Losers, which was alternately praised for its poetic yet stark style, and condemned for its lack of useful substance. I disagree, and say its style was of questionable value, but that its message encapsulated the futility of life and used it to explain the desolation that leads to things like corruption and all other expressions of the loss of innocence in politics and public service. In any case, he did win the Goveror General's award for Literature. Not for this work, though.

Author's note: Both caster and castor are correct, and I devoted the appropriate amount of time agonizing over the politically correct usage before going with the version that can also be linked to all things beaver-like. In keeping with my national and gender-based affiliations.

But back to the tomatoes. When evicting them, I catalogued the contents of my hallway:

1 orange flower print armchair
1 Wal-Mart shopping cart
1 empty bottle of scotch (double malt, by the garbage chute)
1 empty bottle of either rum or vodka (again, by the garbage chute)

I was not surprised, but I was only mildly amused. Perhaps this is a healthy balance.

Now, with the anticipated rising of the sun, I can't bring myself to keep up this exercise in style without substance. I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

Barb, Kaye, you are also amazing and dedicated human beings. :D Good for you for accomplishing your goal.

And it doesn't matter if it is crap, it only matters that it's done.

Now, I'm not done (and I figure it will take me another 4 months to get done what I *really* want to set down, considering I only covered parts of 1995-1998, 2002, and 2003), but I'm going to keep working at it until I am.

At least after I write that story about a sentient shirt.

But what happened to our other two people?

Okay, I had to go look at the aborted foetus, because I couldn't believe it. Now I wish I hadn't. I should learn to listen to Barb. Next time I don't, someone remind me of the decapitated foetus. Barb is right. Trust Barb.

I'm done too -- these last three days have been completely hellish, averaging around 5000 words/day, and mostly complete crap. I'm trying to decide if this whole thing was a waste of my time, or not. As a plot exercise it was really quite good, because I now understand my characters a lot better. But unfortunately, I would pretty much need to rewrite everything to use any of it, so I'm unsure.

I also feel like I have only the first half of the plot worked out. I really can't end the novel THERE, it's pretty cheesy. But well, I did it, and I guess I should be proud of having written 50,000 words of crap. Oy.

Final W/C: 50,044

First, I just want to say that Leslie is an amazing human being. Congratulations, Leslie, for completing your Nanowrimo challenge. :D :D :D

We're down to the last day, and while I know I won't finish (just like when I started, I'm still a painfully slow writer), I'm still glad I took up this challenge. I've written more in one month than I ever have in any other month. And this form of therapy is a heck of a lot cheaper than the usual ;)

But seriously, I believe we should keep this blog open, to talk about our challenges in writing, our goals, and our accomplishments. And I think we should open it up to any Ifwits who want to join.

What do y'all think?

Thanks, Kirsten! Things went as well as they possibly could today. I still have to wait four weeks to get some of the results, but they couldn't see anything strange or unusual, and they were very happy, and they expect not to see me again. So I'm a happy camper. I stayed up late again and didn't write. This, really, really, has to stop happening. I saw the two towers extended edition today. It was very good. I had no idea which scenes were new, since I'd seen them all some months ago. Well, not quite all. There was one particular scene with Denethor that I thought was the best scene in the entire movie. I didn't remember it at all. It was absolutely brilliant.

Tonight Lee found the room where she'd killed (and not killed) Franklin. The chairs were still there, so she put them in the same spots, and sat where she'd sat. Then she began to realise just how much Franklin had manipulated her, and she had a wee tantrum, and destroyed both of the chairs.

LOTD: She stayed that way for quite some time, staring. She wasn't sure what she was expecting. Fireworks. Bagpipes. Maybe just that she'd suddenly understand what it was Constantine had been trying to tell her then, was still trying to tell her. It wasn't happening.

W/C: 35,235 (Today: 2249) Pages: 165

Spreadsheet to the end:

Date->Ideal WC->Actual WC->Actual Today Words->Ideal Today Words->Words Left
(NB: Actual words calculates necessary words for days that have not yet occurred)

21-Nov-03 35000 35235 2249 1678 14765
22-Nov-03 36667 36886 1651 1677 13114
23-Nov-03 38333 38538 1652 1676 11462
24-Nov-03 40000 40191 1653 1675 9809
25-Nov-03 41667 41845 1654 1674 8155
26-Nov-03 43333 43500 1655 1673 6500
27-Nov-03 45000 45155 1656 1672 4845
28-Nov-03 46667 46812 1656 1672 3188
29-Nov-03 48333 48469 1657 1671 1531
30-Nov-03 50000 50000 1531 1667 0

I'm thinking about you today, Kaye. I hope things go well, and if they don't (on the VERY off chance), then kick ass and take names.

And good for you for writing :D :D :D You are amazing.

I hate to admit that I just broke 10K yesterday... I really need to work on sleeping less than 18 hours a day. I could get a lot more done.

It's also beginning to frustrate me that I'm writing at like a grade 6 level... well, grade 6, except for the subject matter.

Anyway, all I've been writing is dirty stories, so I don't have much I can post. However, I'll be a little bold and post this one part about this one fellow, which Mark thought was pretty damn funny. Ah, quick note, this took place when I was 18 and much, much slimmer:

It frustrated me that he would never make love with the lights on. I mean never. One day, after we'd been seeing each other for months, we made love during the day at his place, where the curtains keep out no light. He took one look at me and said, "Wow, you're really good looking." Like he was surprised.

Okay, wait, here's another one--and please, please stop me if my small excerpts are too ribald for this venue. In this point of the story, Kevin is my boyfriend and Joe is a very close friend:

I said, "You'll never believe what Kevin said to me."
Joe said, "What?"
"He took one look at me and said, 'I could get lost in your beautiful blue eyes."
"So?" he asked.
"My eyes aren't blue, you dipshit."

Ut oh, Kirsten ;). Sounds like another adventure!

I almost didn't write today again. it's so easy to avoid when you avoided it the day before. And I have a gazillion excuses today. I'm tired, I'm sick, I had a meeting with a professor, lunch with Tim, got lots of exercise. Had a long talk with my mom. And I'm dog scared about something I have to do tomorrow. But I did. I got Lee to Constantine's house, and she's climbed up a tree, and has broken in through the window. After her escape from Port Arthur, in Australia, she wasn't too thrown about that.

I wrote very fast, and it's especially crappy.

LOTD: _Since when has a locked door stopped you, Lee?_ She smirked to herself.

W/C: 32986 (today = 1845) Pages: 153

LOTD for Wednesday:

"I'd heard of king size beds, but it was all theory until that night."