Posts Tagged ‘ own damn fault ’

Still here!

I realized when I sat down I don’t really have anything interesting to blog about. Just rants, really, which I’ll spare you.

Actually, I’ve been struck by how easy a challenge NaNoWriMo is. To be honest, fifty thousand words is kind of a piddling novel. With my current font settings, and even with my habit of starting new lines too often, fifty thousand words is only one hundred ten pages.

Even the shortest book in A Series of Unfortunate Events is one hundred seventy pages, and the shortest book in the Harry Potter series has three hundred ten.

As I’m not really planning to make this a series, I realize that if I complete my story in one hundred ten pages, it will be a sadly lacking and one-dimensional thing that will require extensive re-writing and editing.

That being said, I already intend to spend the next six months re-writing and editing. I’d just rather it not be too extensive.

On that same vein, I killed my first character the other day. Since this is my first true venture into fiction, this was a new sensation for me.

At first, I felt slightly god-like. The power of life and death lay in my hands! Then I felt slightly demon-like, because I was using that power to put my characters through the worst kind of hell.

But then I remembered that all of this is fictional.

As I delve into this book project, I’m scaring myself a little bit, and in more than one way.

Firstly, because I can imagine horrible things that I’ve never really realized until I put them into words.

Secondly, and not to brag, but I have one hell of an imagination. When I spend hours each day sitting before my computer, writing and writing without breaks, I get really wrapped up in my own head.

After a while, I stop being fully sure of where my imagination stops and reality starts.

This is probably no good, but is definitely an indicator that I’ve chosen the correct career trajectory.

Anyway, that’s my blog. Writing about writing, hooray!

If you’re NaNo-ing, add me on the website—I’m Bethany_the_H. I would love to connect with you.

Imagination is too much sometimes.

Sometimes I am simply beyond horrified at the things that are in my brain to concoct.

Beyond horrified.

Today marks day two of my two-hours-a-day writing commitment, and I’m shocked at where my story has taken me.

When I made the decision to write this novel, I knew it was going to get gory. I knew it was going to get graphic, and violent, and psychological, and scary.

Maybe I have an overactive imagination, but the things I wrote tonight left me sitting in my chair, hands covering my face, rocking forward and back, spinning ever so slightly because my floor isn’t level.

Of course, if I wanted to write children’s books I wouldn’t be at this place, but I don’t.

I’m sure Stephen King is left freaked out and horrified by some of the things he writes. Not that I’m comparing myself to Mr. King, obviously, but the extents that my imagination takes me to really freaks me out.

Oftentimes I wonder to myself, “Where did I get this image? How do I know how to describe this?” but I never have been able to figure that out.

It’s probably from reading books and watching movies and knowing basic anatomy, but still.

If I have nightmares tonight, it’s my own damn fault for getting carried away with putting my characters in peril.

Crap.

Anyway, the story is coming along nicely. I’ve surprised myself by succeeding at writing over two thousand words for the two days that I’ve been writing for two hours.

Indeed, I’m averaging around two thousand six hundred words, which is about one thousand three hundred words an hour.

I never knew how loquacious I could be until I decided to kick my own butt at writing.

But hey, as I roll along hopefully my literary style becomes better. I’ve reached a point where I don’t cringe at my own writing, and sometimes I even pat myself on the back for being so freakin’ eloquent. (Occasionally.)

So here we are—day two, and I wrote two thousand, three hundred sixty-seven words on my novel today, as well as this three hundred seventy-seven word blog, so I’m going to say I’m doing all right.

Aside from scaring the living crap out of myself, that is.

(Oh, technically I’m a day late with this blog, but my brain is still in Wednesday mode, so I think I’m good.)

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