Nothing happened yesterday, anyway. OH, except I put up some new Christmas lights around my desk. I usually save decorating till my birthday on November 11 (make note: I like Snickers and Broccoli), but just got hit with the festive mood early.
Anyway, so yes, I spent yesterday goofing off again, and trying to amp myself back up for writing.
And today, I did it. I finished chapter two, thus writing another 2,400 words, and am now pushing ahead through chapter three, with an attempt to finish by tonight so I'm not too far behind on my NaNo word count. Instead of NaNo's requisite 50,000 in 30-days, I'm shooting for a complete novel at 80,000.
I've often wondered during the last few days the point of pushing ahead with a novel that obviously isn't very good when you first hork it up. And then I remembered all the trouble I had with continuity on The Gaslight Journal (Making its Kindle debut on Thanksgiving Day!), and found myself grieving because I hadn't written that in close to one sitting and just kept pushing through with it.
Which is, I guess, the reason the experts tell you to write your essays and spec scripts for sitcoms in what they call the "burn draft" style. Meaning, you park your ass in the chair, and just write--you "burn" through it. Then once you're done with your literary projectile vomiting, you go back and employ all the techniques you've learned for revisions and edits--thus, shaping it into a thing of beauty that will obviously be ready for human consumption.
I never knew if that technique worked for novels, but for me, at least on this one, it sorta does. I'm finding that I'm having much less trouble with details of specifics in previous chapters, thus, less re-reading involved, because I've got Frank Caravechi's younger brother Vinnie already locked in my short-term memory. I already know when I delve into chapter three in about ten minutes that Sharks Avery is the US Marshal that will help Jack set up his temporary home in South (And not Southwest) Boston. I automatically know that if Jack takes a tour of his new city, that his severe OCD and claustrophobia will preclude him from riding in a dirty, smelly cab. Although, if I want to be a real bastard about it, that might create a nice piece of comedic tension. We'll see what kind of mood I'm in once I finish my Snickers.
So, yeah--it's got definite advantages.
And now my break is over. Will check in tomorrow. And thanks for following this sordid saga. We'll call it, "As The Colon Churns."