rydain: (Lu Meng in the Mist)
The word count of my NaNoWriMo revision is around 15,500. Today's goal is double that. I'm cruising toward a C-C-COMBO BREAKER of my past four wins - and enjoying my best NaNo experience to date.

I sketch scenes if I'm blanking on them. I reread previous sections to weave in development I'll need later. I took a day off to plan a strong foundation for a subplot that had remained vague. I'm putting out 500-1000 well-founded words a day on a draft that I can continue into December and beyond instead of gutting for revamp after the post-NaNo crash and burnout. I can dial back the writing emphasis while still making steady progress. I haven't touched art in a month, and damn do I miss it.

I still write the crap that NaNo encourages me to, as it's important to move forward instead of nitpicking over polish best saved for a future revision. Yet the crap in question is a reasonable first draft stepping stone - ineffective delivery of sound concepts, not concepts doomed to fail. Last year, I Leeroyed up a Jenga tower to fill in the outlining I had neither the time nor knowledge to develop properly. This produced a fair amount of repurposable good stuff on the fly, but plenty of structural garbage. I didn't see any sense in repeating the experience for the sake of a perfect NaNo record - infinitely less meaningful to me than writing the best novel I can and reinforcing the sustainable habits required to carry it through to completion.

Seven years ago, NaNo gave me a fun and frenetic kick out of a lengthy writing torpor. I loved the thrill of going from a bare story concept to Holy Shit, I Wrote All That? "That" ended up like watching someone else play an adverb-heavy video game, but it was an enjoyable idea farm to inspire a better story and a start on getting back into a once beloved hobby. The breakneck pace has lost its luster, but the joy of November remains. NaNo is still an encouraging communal time to write, regardless of personal goals and working style.
rydain: (Cao Ren Sunset)
Sandy came. Sandy went. Sandy largely passed us over. The spousal unit went out in the gusting wind to redirect our rather ineffective downspout away from the house, then resumed playing video games. I spent most of yesterday with the Suspended Piano of Dreaded Impending Power Outage hanging over my head, and I was convinced I would jinx it by going out to the gym, microwaving food, and taking a shower. Turns out the storm blew a bunch of energy elsewhere and veered below us instead of hammering Happy Valley as we had expected. We were damn lucky, and I feel for those that weren't.

My art inspiration has gone on hiatus, and creativity has been slow this month in general. It seems that my brain wants to wipe its slate clean for That Very Special Time of Year.


My months of planning have given me a much stronger footing. But I still have outlining left to do, a subplot whose details remain frustratingly out of reach. I can't finish that to my ideal standards in two days. There's a certain amount of process that can't be rushed, and that needs to percolate and iteratively refine itself over time. But I do have enough solidified to bang out plenty of useful scenes and perhaps extrapolate some reasonable ideas for the rest. This year, I should make my word count with structurally sound material, a much better wheat-to-chaff ratio, and no emergency Russian gangster crossover antics - although I haven't ruled out the possibility of another such outtake for the lulz. I haven't done squat for [community profile] cottoncandy_bingo either, so perhaps there's some double duty writing to be had there.

I'm trying to make myself brainstorm, or at least pick up the reference books I had been saving for a power outage. My brain is pulling a Hoagie and giving me a major case of the Don't Wannas. It will come around. It always does.

August 2015

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