NaNoWriMo Afterparty: Playing God Is Awesome

When I was a mini-hairrorist of about four and about to enter preschool, my mom attempted to assuage my But-I-don't-wanna-leave-the-house! anxiety by telling me, "There will be arts and crafts, and you can make new friends!" Possibly putting those two concepts together a bit too literally, I imagined myself cutting and sewing fabric and yarn scraps together and filling them with polyfiber to make my new friends, who I guessed would look something like life-size Raggedy Anns and follow me around saying, "[The Hairrorist], you are awesome! Let's play whatever you want all the time!" I was dismayed to find that it didn't work quite like that, especially the part where I could control the looks, behavior, and pretty much everything else about the people who surrounded me, and have the clique I wanted regardless of my own social shortcomings. (Needless to say, junior high really sucked for me.)

Which is why writing fiction kicks ass. Before this month, I hadn't done it for months, even years, but I'm really glad I did decide to go with that one stupid half-assed idea. I love creating imaginary people out of whole cloth, dropping them into a common setting, and seeing where it leads us. I did hit 50,000 words at about 11:50 pm on Nov. 30, so I did technically win, but I wasn't able to upload it from my undisclosed location, so I didn't "officially" win. Kind of lame, but NaNo reminded me that I might actually have talent and imagination and be able to channel them somewhat productively. Which is cooler than any PDF winner's certificate (maybe). And maybe I'm on crack, but I actually think this slapshot first draft may be worth rewriting, and I've already started doing it while I still have a bit of free time.

As a bonus, NaNo helped me get over my law school ex, who was at first a fairly major character, but once I saw how douchey and one-dimensional and inferior to my made-up dramatis personae he looked on paper, I wrote him out of the story except as an occasional practical-joke victim.

So I'm supposed to start beauty school again on Thursday. Yeah, I'm psyched. I'll get to run with scissors, and play with chemicals, and make my new friends... all pretty!

NaNoWriMo, Day 26: Hijinks in the Abortion Clinic FTW!

Word count: 41,030. I'm a little behind. I'll probably end up writing 5,000 words on the last day. My plot (such as it was) makes no sense and I still have only the vaguest idea how it's going to end, but at least I'm still having fun writing it.

So yeah, I got nothing, but I did want to share the beyond fabulous video for Amanda Palmer's "Oasis"--possibly the most jubilant song ever recorded about rape, abortion, betrayal, and the redemptive power of pop music (all these topics, punctuated by feel-good Brian Wilson-esque harmonies, are blithely covered within the space of two minutes). The vid's dedicated to Sarah Palin and is probably not safe for work, unless you work someplace that has "disturbingly hilarious" written into its mission statement. Amanda's facial expressions are priceless. I've got tickets to see her next month, the evening of my scheduled re-debut at beauty school. I will not be inviting Melissa Mahoney.

NaNoWriMo, Day Eleven: I'm Such A Dork I Had To Google Gang Signs

Word count: 20,026. I'm a day ahead! This never happens. I'm just having so much fun writing this thing. Let me introduce you to my imaginary friends:

Kay: Neurotic hipstery legal secretary with a tendency to mope and romanticize bad relationships. More fun than she sounds. Makes gang signs in her sleep. Let's hope she never has a fling with one of the Maniac Latin Disciples. May have a demon-infested apartment.

Oliver: Former geologist who dabbles in the supernatural, if a bit ineptly. Now works at IKEA because he got fired from his old job for making the toaster explode while trying to exorcise it. Extremely loquacious and is constantly getting laid. Needless to say, he's awesome for word count. Hecubus-Ted, the evil spirit that only haunts IKEA mattresses, is his nemesis.¹

Ariel: Oliver's (now estranged) girlfriend, an arty gothy musician who makes her living playing at a cheesy piano bar. Snarky, charismatic, has trust issues and ninja weapons. Hangs out in leather corsets, rhinestone-tipped false eyelashes, and purple skull pajama pants. She rocks.

These three have been writing the story for me. All I'm doing is hitting the keyboard randomly for hours at a time as I watch them do their thing. If I think of it that way, it's a lot less obnoxious when I crack up at my own jokes.

¹The novel's (atrocious) working title is "Deathbed." I feel like it needs a couple of umlauts, in homage to Berkeley Breathed.

NaNoWriMo, Day Four: Barack Obama Elected President

Word count: slightly behind where I need to be, but you know, that's not as important as the electoral vote projection.

I'll probably have a champagne hangover tomorrow and not be able to write much, but I'm okay with that.

Congratulations, President Obama. I am honored to have been able to vote for you.

NaNoWriMo, Day Two: Demonic Possession With A Side Of Swedish Meatballs

Word count: 2,339. Not bad considering I spent Halloween moving out of my old place and didn't have a single plot or character idea until around 9 pm that day. It's a paranormalish not-quite-romance set in IKEA, although so far I feel like I've been typing "Fuck You, [Name of Recent Ex]" over and over. At least it's not about law school.

I need to write about a thousand more words today to be where I'm supposed to be. If I hit my goal I'll go out tonight to see my brother play double duty as rock star and DJ between sets. (He's kind of a big deal.)

No Points For Guessing What The Soul-Eating Beast Represents

I just signed up for this year's NaNoWriMo. I'm not going back to school till Dec. 10 (leg is still gimpy) and have no employment prospects in sight, so I feel like I'd better redeem myself by writing a 50,000-word novel in a month. Especially considering that I started this blog to catalog my creative pursuits, which so far have been notable for their absence.

I'm not sure what I'm going to write about (not that that stopped me in 2005, the first and only year I did this. In 2006 I was busy studying for the LSAT and in 2007 I was busy being miserable in law school). I've kicked around the idea of a Kelly Link-esque supernatural romance featuring a soul-eating beast, until I realized I was bored with writing or even thinking about romance. I might do it anyway. I have done absolutely no research or outlining--again, something that deterred me not in the least in 2005. I know people who are doing extensive plotting and research beforehand, and while I applaud their diligence, it's more my style just to hit the ground running and see where my imagination takes me. You're probably starting to get a fuller idea of why I was epic fail at law school.

I'll try to post my word count at least weekly. Beyond that, I can't promise anything, except that my protagonist will not be more than 10% me. The last thing I need is to commit myself to 50,000 words about my navel. Bleah. Like I don't do enough of that here.

I Will Never Work For Sarah Palin

...tempting as the gig may sound in my current state of poverty.