01 November 2008
Meeting and Thinking
This blog has lanquished long enough!! It shall be transformed into what it is - a mysterious pub, serving hard liquor to those who want to get drunk fast. The patrons are a shady lot, and don't brook much conversation. Into this pub comes the Vagabond Writing Society, meeting every so often on a schedule only they know and understand.
It is here that they put forth their writings for the review and critique of the other members.
FB
01 November 2005
1200
Or so the NaNoWrimo Counter says. However, my word processor says 1070. Interesting. I saved in .rtf format, perhaps it is artificially inflating the word count.
Today's excerpt:
Suspira
The meeting hut had been disassembled, stored, and the village set aright. There was much curiosity among the curious, and ambivalence among the ambivalent. The active ones were active, the lazy ones were lazy. In short, life went on, as usual. Oh there was some buzz about a Qesting. Most in the tribe had not been born when the last Qesting had occurred. Most knew of it, tribal lore had perpetuated the story. However, tribal lore had been strangely silent on the outcome of the Qesting, and while that did create some buzz, it wasn't enough to be self sustaining. It lacked a catalyst, that being some visual clues that a Qesting was being prepared. But those selected for the journey had completely gone back to business as usual. There was little to talk about, and so, approximately ½ season after the meeting, the last child asked the last parent about it, and the last adult asked the last adult about it, and the subject faded away. As planned.
Sylk was looking for his mentor. Restless, he wondered why nothing had happened. He had broached the subject once with Steropé, but she only set him to some task and did not answer any of his questions. He would not approach the cheesemaker, she always just embarrassed him, asking if he noticed Steropé's supple thighs or some such, and effectively keeping him away from her.
The rest were similarly unapproachable, either because they were unpleasant or uncommunicative. Moaqui was the lone exception, sort of. He was a fountain of information, only none of it seemed to have anything to do with the question at hand. So, Sylk fell into a routine of service in his mother's hut, service to the community, and lately, a certain ferocious service to the talent he was developing. The sensations he was gradually brining to consciousness threatened to overwhelm him at times. A time or two, he lay writhing on the ground in true agony, the feeling of a soft breeze would fall on him like a bruta in full rut charge. These seemed to happen mostly at night, when the normal bombardment of sense was stilled to some degree, and he would respond to the sensory deprivation by expanding his sense of self to include the hut and all it's contents.
“The orientation associative area of your brain, that part that defines the boundaries of your self, at those time when you expand, stop recognizing the hut and your surroundings as being not self and because of that you 'feel' things that most would believe you should not”, was the only comment Moaqui had made to him after several enquiries.
Later dudes.
Today's excerpt:
Suspira
The meeting hut had been disassembled, stored, and the village set aright. There was much curiosity among the curious, and ambivalence among the ambivalent. The active ones were active, the lazy ones were lazy. In short, life went on, as usual. Oh there was some buzz about a Qesting. Most in the tribe had not been born when the last Qesting had occurred. Most knew of it, tribal lore had perpetuated the story. However, tribal lore had been strangely silent on the outcome of the Qesting, and while that did create some buzz, it wasn't enough to be self sustaining. It lacked a catalyst, that being some visual clues that a Qesting was being prepared. But those selected for the journey had completely gone back to business as usual. There was little to talk about, and so, approximately ½ season after the meeting, the last child asked the last parent about it, and the last adult asked the last adult about it, and the subject faded away. As planned.
Sylk was looking for his mentor. Restless, he wondered why nothing had happened. He had broached the subject once with Steropé, but she only set him to some task and did not answer any of his questions. He would not approach the cheesemaker, she always just embarrassed him, asking if he noticed Steropé's supple thighs or some such, and effectively keeping him away from her.
The rest were similarly unapproachable, either because they were unpleasant or uncommunicative. Moaqui was the lone exception, sort of. He was a fountain of information, only none of it seemed to have anything to do with the question at hand. So, Sylk fell into a routine of service in his mother's hut, service to the community, and lately, a certain ferocious service to the talent he was developing. The sensations he was gradually brining to consciousness threatened to overwhelm him at times. A time or two, he lay writhing on the ground in true agony, the feeling of a soft breeze would fall on him like a bruta in full rut charge. These seemed to happen mostly at night, when the normal bombardment of sense was stilled to some degree, and he would respond to the sensory deprivation by expanding his sense of self to include the hut and all it's contents.
“The orientation associative area of your brain, that part that defines the boundaries of your self, at those time when you expand, stop recognizing the hut and your surroundings as being not self and because of that you 'feel' things that most would believe you should not”, was the only comment Moaqui had made to him after several enquiries.
Later dudes.
23 October 2005
Prep? What?
I've been reading with some trepidation that Year Two is harder than Year One for NaNoWriMo. The reasons vary:
fb
- If you succeeded, you only remember that you did, not what it took to get there. So, you are filled with overconfidence.
- If you didn't, you don't know why, and so you are filled with underconfidence and almost quit before you start. (OK, I made that one up.)
- Over prepping seems to stem the flow of creativity
- Underprepping seems to stem the flow of energy
- Life sucks and then you die. (That's not what anyone wrote, but sort of sums it up.)
fb
05 October 2005
NaNoWriMo 2005
Prepping myself for National Novel Writing Month 2005, wherein I will either write a new new novel on thw Qesting of Sylk, or maybe some collaborative effort with my spousal unit.
Wish me luck. FB
20 December 2004
First Draft Done, 51,777 total words.
Bear in mind this is a first draft. I still have one Tracker, Tracker2, unnamed. And, my decision to turn Tracker3 into a woman, and back-propagate this concept has not been fully realized. She transmogrifies somewhere along the way.
And there are a lot of typos of the variety "their" instead of "there" and vice versa. Or "th" instead of "the". Or "the" instead of "then". And cases where the same descriptive word gets repeated two or three sentences in a row, which I've always found annoying. Or something is described, then re-described within the same paragraph.
Other than that, it's not horrible.
I have printed out a copy in landscape format, two columns, type size 10.5. This makes it look almost like a book when you read it, the size of a somewhat oversized paperback. Printed that way, with full page breaks between chapters, it is 144 pages.
Now I shall set it aside until mid January. Then I will read it carefully, red pen in hand, and make notes about things that were plot developments that need some tweaking, or that maybe I had completely forgot. Look at tense changes, etc. Make sure all the correctly spelled words are the correct words. This should take January and February to do. Then, I plan to partake in NaNoEdMo in March. National Novel Editing Month.
And then, I shall have my personal contest to see how many rejection slips I can garner.
fb
And there are a lot of typos of the variety "their" instead of "there" and vice versa. Or "th" instead of "the". Or "the" instead of "then". And cases where the same descriptive word gets repeated two or three sentences in a row, which I've always found annoying. Or something is described, then re-described within the same paragraph.
Other than that, it's not horrible.
I have printed out a copy in landscape format, two columns, type size 10.5. This makes it look almost like a book when you read it, the size of a somewhat oversized paperback. Printed that way, with full page breaks between chapters, it is 144 pages.
Now I shall set it aside until mid January. Then I will read it carefully, red pen in hand, and make notes about things that were plot developments that need some tweaking, or that maybe I had completely forgot. Look at tense changes, etc. Make sure all the correctly spelled words are the correct words. This should take January and February to do. Then, I plan to partake in NaNoEdMo in March. National Novel Editing Month.
And then, I shall have my personal contest to see how many rejection slips I can garner.
fb
12 December 2004
50,978
I have added almost 1000 more words, and done some really minor edits. I estimate that it will be another 1500 words to complete.
I will not post anymore excerpts because then you will know the end, silly.
If you want a copy of the mostly unedited rough draft, you can say so in the comments, or you can email me at theglob@comcast.net
msc
I will not post anymore excerpts because then you will know the end, silly.
If you want a copy of the mostly unedited rough draft, you can say so in the comments, or you can email me at theglob@comcast.net
msc
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