It arrived today.

With the lovely live recording of "Anthem" and "Weeping."

Beats watching the Florida/Florida State game.

Oh, I didn't hit 50K, nor do I have any expectations of doing so, with less than two days left.

But that's okay. That was never my objective. My objective was to use something, even if it was an external tool, to force myself past the frozen state in which I'd found myself. To put my head down and write and work my way through the nitpickiness that was little more than an excuse to not write, because obsessing and nitpicking is so much easier than putting down new words and facing them the next day and sending them out for comment from the people you trust. It's so much easier to arrange and rearrange words and sentences than to think about sending the material out to face a greater audience. One that's going to be not only critical, but could possibly be cruel.

Oh, and there's justification there-- because really, who could be more critical than me? I'm my own worst critic, my own harshest judge of quality.

However...

I don't have to hear "no" from myself. I don't have to hear, "We like the writing, but..."

I'd retreated into a cocoon these last several months. Really, most of this year. I'd heard so much of "We like the writing, but..." I didn't want to hear it any more. If I didn't write. If I didn't produce anything new, then I didn't have to hear "no."

Maybe I needed that for a while. But I also needed to write and I didn't know how to separate the two. I didn't have any memory of how to write without the knowledge that I was going to be hearing "no" at some point. So I simply didn't write. And that was the worst thing of all.

Until this month. Until I said, "Okay, I am going to put my head down and I'm going to write words and I'm going to do my best not to worry about 'no.' I'm just going to worry about this story and these characters and the story they want me to tell."

You know what the best part was? The left turn to Albuquerque. The emergence of a character who'd previously existed simply as a witty foil, a colorful secondary, into a major player. I had no idea. I have no idea where this is going to take me and the story, although I suspect, it's going to wind up more or less in the same place-- there's just a little more depth and not quite as much point A to point B going on.

I've written over 25K new words this month. Most of them are probably going to stay, at least throughout this draft, because I did tinker and polish and they are valuable to the story as it currently stands.

It's definitely not about getting to 50K.

For helping with the virtual ass-kicking. As always, you are all Quite Wise

We'll see how much of this sticks on a second reading.

I'm in a sticky place. I know where I want it to go-- but it's a matter of stitching together scenes so they read with a certain flow and elegance rather than Google Maps instructions.

Overall, though, I'm in a fairly Zen, yet oddly fatalistic sort of place about all of this.

Judging by what I've been reading, unless I insert a zombie, emo-vampire, or were-koala, I'm pretty much screwed within the current publishing climate.

Publishers, like everyone else, are tightening their belts, at least where the midlist and debut authors are concerned-- there are in all likelihood, going to be fewer slots in the next year and the majority of those are going to go to authors with proven track records, something trending hard, or a book with the type of hook to make it either an instant or word-of-mouth bestseller.

They're also slotting large advances for "celebrity authors." Which, we can guess what I think of that. Seven million dollars for Sarah Palin. Well, that'll buy her a lot of buckshot for her rifle.

Basically, this means I'm fairly screwed. I don't write those kinds of books. I'm not naturally predisposed towards writing paranormal and the idea of a series, around which so many paranormal titles are built, makes me twitch, in principle. I'm not saying it wouldn't ever happen, I'm just saying that I currently have no ideas naturally occurring to me, ergo, if I tried to write to market trends, it would no doubt come out forced and horrible and would be a gigantic waste of time.

I know I probably have friends who are shaking their heads and saying "You're just being stubborn-- if you wanted to write paranormal, you could. You just don't want to."

They're right. I don't want to. And if that makes me perverse and stubborn, well, it sure as hell wouldn't be the first time I heard that.

And I also don't write the kinds of books that are likely to become ginormous bestsellers. And I don't write books that are going to get the literary attention. At least, I honestly don't think so.

But this doesn't mean I'm waving the white flag or anything. It just means that I'm in no particular rush. I feel no need to scramble to get something out Right Now. And I certainly don't feel that weird competitive urge to get to 50K words by November 30, which is a very, very strange sensation for someone as competitive as I have historically been. I mean, seriously bizarre, how calm I am about the whole thing. I want to take my time and make sure this proposal is as polished and ready to go as it possibly can be (and I shudder at taming the 23 page outline into a concise synopsis) and hope that somewhere, there's an editor who doesn't want were-koalas.

For everyone else who's getting there-- I'm over here waving my pom poms madly and chanting "you can DO it!"

There really hasn't been any progress, at least in terms of sheer wordcount because I've been doing that thing that you're not supposed to do during NaNo-- I've been revising. Not even big, overall structure revising, but very precise, nitpicking, do I have the right word or turn of phrase revising.

This is just where NaNo, in theory, simply doesn't work for me. I started with an already in-progress work, one that's been plotted (for the most part, if it wasn't for mouthy Creole chefs who send the plot off on a slight detour) and it's stylistically different for me, so I'm very aware of things like word choices and cadence of dialogue. All that nitpicky stuff that you're not supposed to worry about when you're doing NaNo.

However, thanks to NaNo, I really have made tremendous progress on this project—I'd been good and stuck for a long while and it really provided the kick in the ass I needed to get back in the saddle, as it were.

Now, if my self-confidence would crawl out of whatever cave it's been in hibernation, things would be good.

Still pleased.

You've had no contact with them. The one mystery we've been unable to resolve.

You know everything.

Those poor lovers and tourists—with their confused expressions and the expletives and shouts they hurled after me as I pushed past, heart pounding in my mad dash for the elevator, squeezing through the rapidly closing doors, reluctant to wait even the few minutes it would take for the next one to arrive. Ignoring the startled faces and less-than-subtle whispers of "drugs" or "drunk" and shrinking back into a corner, praying that the damned thing would get to the lobby. Just get to the lobby, please. Through the doors and out onto the street and running, running… Horns and shouts hardly registering, the icy splashes from cars speeding through puddles barely eliciting a gasp as I paused on street corners, trying to get my bearings before taking off again. My once-lovely satin shoes, never meant for this sort of panicked flight, skidded on slick, frozen patches and sank into wet piles of slush as my gloved fingers grabbed onto iron banisters, jutting bricks, anything that might propel me forward, including, in one tire-squealing moment, the hood of a taxi, my heart pounding in my ears as I stood, illuminated in headlights, like I was the star of some horribly surreal show. Through the grimy expanse of windshield, I watched the agitated motions of the driver's hands, and the way his mouth worked—was it in fear or anger?— before taking off again, my thigh throbbing, blindly turning corners, relying on instinct, because I'd only been here a handful of times and never for anything like this and please be home, por favor, Dios, be home—

The soles of my shoes scrambling for purchase on the stone steps, numb fingers pulling open the exterior door, facing still more steps, marble, worn smooth over the decades, each step echoing, my fist, mimicking the sound, pounding on the solid wood door, forehead propped on my upraised arm, unwilling to face the possibility that no one might be home. That I'd be left alone, again—

"Natalie?"

But progress, however slow, is still progress.

And at this point, with this particular project, it's not about just putting down words, but putting down quality words. I'm working steadily for the first time in months. I've made huge progress on this project and the people who've read, assure me it's good.

Clearly, however, I suck at traditional NaNoing.

*considers recent work produced*

I'm good with that.

Yesterday was a bit of a bust. Sick twelve year-olds will wreak havoc with the best-laid plans.

But he's feeling better today and I did get a little revising down on the last segment written. (Yes, yes, I know revising's not part of the game, necessarily, but it is part of my writing process-- it's a thing.)

Anyhow, I did manage to add a little more and since the child is feeling better today, I hope to add another nice chunk.



And look, Rebecca-- no "Holiday Road!"

And the NaNo site has yet to restore the Author search function.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't one of the main objectives to NaNo, other than putting 50K of words to paper, supposed to be that you're doing it within a community? That you have your Buddies there and you can see how they're doing and they can see how you're doing and you can egg each other on?

Nearly a week. One would think the madness would have settled down by now, no?

NaNo site for the FAIL

Sucks dead, hairy unmentionables.

That is all.

Since there's a place for these over there too and I'm particularly proud of this small bit.

***

Time had completely slipped away while I'd walked. I'd managed to slip out of the apartment undetected, for the most part, with nothing more than a quizzical glance from the maid manning the coat check. I'd left the building behind with every intention of going home. I think. Wherever home was. But then, rather than hail one of the many cabs that streamed past, or descend into the steaming, claustrophobic confines of the subway, I'd simply continued walking, weaving in and out of the weekend revelers, out celebrating the holiday season. Ignoring the cat calls and the invitations from outside the bars to join them for a drink. I'd just kept my head down and weaved my way through the small knots of people, the couples the others who were as alone as I. Along Central Park West, around Columbus Circle, down Broadway and into the crazed, seedy bustle of Times Square, with its flashing lights, and the cab horns honking, and the prostitutes hovering in the shadows brazenly calling out to the jaded regulars and smirking at the shocked tourists, offering a hand, a mouth, any and all orifices, for one, or two, or three participants—anything could be had, any dream or fantasy, if only for the right price.

It was as if I was seeing it through the glass of the globes I'd adored as a child, except I was trapped inside, sparkling snow falling about my shoulders, reflecting the myriad blues and reds and greens of the lights. Like a dream, I walked through it all, protected by the translucent walls of my bubble, the sights blurred and distorted, sounds muffled into an indistinct rumble and hum.

At least, that's what I'ma telling myself.

Over on the incredibly SLOOOOOOOOOOOOW NaNo website, they have a place where you can upload a mock book cover.

Why of course I made one up.

Found some ad art I liked and that I thought was evocative of the era and style of the story and started playing in Photoshop. I'm not completely happy with it, especially the title (font/placement/color) so it'll be my side project, in terms of Something to Do When the Muse is On Strike.

Anyhoo:




Oh, and I HAVE written, by gum. So there.

It's November 1st.

I have coffee:



(And an endless supply of Diet Coke)

I have Peanut Butter M&Ms:



I have my notebooks:



I have my research books (these are only some of them):



I have a shiny! new! playlist!:

Believe Again- Delta Goodrem
Bend & Break- Keane
Scream- Chris Cornell
Light On- David Cook
Apologize- OneRepublic & Timbaland
Lullaby (w/Ladysmith Black Mambazo)- Josh Groban
A Whiter Shade of Pale- Annie Lennox
Save It for Your Prayers- Duffy Rockferry
I'm Gonna Find Another You- John Mayer
Baby Can I Hold You- Curtis Kamiya
Afterglow- INXS
Pure- Nina Gordon
Spell- Marié Digby
We All Need Saving- Jon McLaughlin

And I am wearing my Official Shirt:



Admittedly, with the exception of the shirt, this pretty much constitutes a normal writing day for me but still, it felt right and good to commemorate the start of the madness.

Happy Nanoing everyone!

And if they ever get the author tab fixed over at that godforsaken site, I'm Barb Ferrer over there.

*waves and dives headfirst into manuscript*

I did it once before, in 2004. I "won." I haven't done it since, because timing wasn't right, but this year, with everything completely FUBARed, I'm giving it another go. Well, and because jenniferechols asked me, really, really nicely to keep her company.

I am NaNoing this year.

And true to my little anarchist self, I really don't play by the rules-- I know the idea is to start from scratch and spit out those 50K words, but I'm not in the mood to start from scratch. Not when I've got so many WIPs. So I'll be working on something in progress, as I did four years ago. But hey, four years ago, I got 65K done on that WIP, so by jiminy, I won.

It's just, for the first time in a long time, I really need some sort of external kick in the ass to get me going. While my own personal deadlines have been enough for me in the past, I think I need some sort of external motivator to get me back in gear.

So anyhow, anyone who's joining in, I'm signed up as Barb Ferrer, with the space between the two names. I probably won't participate on the forums very much if at all, but I'll be posting my progress.

Time to get out the pom-poms and try to convince myself I'm not a huge loser.