NaNoWriMo--Day Twenty, and...Cyanide, Anyone?

As you will notice, I now have a spiff new NaNoWriMo word war widget in the upper left corner of my screen.  WrytingBear is my writing buddy who threw down the gauntlet earlier this week when he realised I was suddenly beginning to catch up to his word count. He may have thrown it down, I simply chose to write about it.  "It's ON baby, like mascara on Prince."  That's what I told him.

About an hour ago, as you can see from the real time widget, I hit my 40,000 word mark.  My original plan was to push through to 70,000 words.  I'd still like to see that happen, but I've been so tired lately, that I'm afraid my first instinct will be to just stop when I hit 50,000 and leave it at that.  I can't do that--I've already got folks waiting on the mss.

During this week when I was churning out word after word, and thus, kicking WrytingBear's arse (and it was gravy, really), I began to realise something about this process:  In my zeal to metaphorically give him a beat down as we were running neck and neck in word counts, I ended up writing 15,000 words in 4 days. That's more than twice my regular pace, and besides churning out crap I won't be able to use, I completely fried my brain and I was SO completely worn out yesterday that I refused to write and took the day off.

But no more marathon sessions for me. There comes a point when it's good to be writing, and then another point when you're doing it for the sake of a word count that won't mean anything if you churn out nothing but a piece of crap. I'm sticking to my normal chapter length of 2,300 words and pushing through even after it's over for my 70,000 words. That way I'll have a rough first draft, AND I won't fry my circuits in the process.

NaNoWriMo--Day Eighteen: cruisin', featured author, and GASLIGHT RELEASE!

Just a few minutes ago, I reached 37,178 words.  EPIC, BABY!  Is all of it going to be usable?  I doubt it, but at least I've got the basic framework for some great comedy, and that was my only purpose in participating. 

I've also made some fantastic friends--one guy in CA who is a writing buddy, somehow threw down the gauntlet, and now instead of being involved in a race to finish our own novels, we're now in a race to see who finishes their own novels first.  Which is spurring me on to write even during the days I'm tired and really wished I could write Father Jack as being electrocuted because I'm simply tired of him.

On Friday, November 19, I will be the featured author at TheIndieSpotlight.com site.  Edward C. Patterson and Gregory Banks have devoted their precious time to help the independent author.  They feature a different author each day of the week, so please stop by and support their tireless efforts.  And read my interview--funniest thing since M*A*S*H.

As of yesterday, my short-story collection, ZEN IN THE ART OF ABSURDITY (link available to the right of your screen in the Amazon widget) hit #76 in the books > humour > essays category for TOP PAID KINDLE DOWNLOADS, and just a little while ago I, out of curiosity, checked the status of GUNS DON'T KILL PEOPLE...MY UNCLE DOES, and it is now sitting pretty at #66 in the books > entertainment > humor > crime&mystery category.  That is the second time that particular book has cracked the TOP PAID KINDLE DOWNLOADS for that category.

And finally, exactly one week from today on US Thanksgiving Day, my historical fiction novel, THE GASLIGHT JOURNAL, makes its Amazon Kindle debut, and I couldn't be happier!  Again, if you're a beta reader and need a place to slap up your review, simply go to the top of this page, and click on the GASLIGHT link.  It will take you to a dedicated GASLIGHT page that I've set up specifically for your reviews.

That should do it for now.  Keep at it, and remember you CAN do this!

NaNoWriMo--Day Sixteen, and STILL having to defend it??

Just because I'm in the Xmas mood

As we walk along Planet Earth, we do a lot of stupid crap from which obviously no one is exempt.  We run out on dates at the last minute because we didn't realise the long line across his forehead was one, big eyebrow, and not the shadow from a ball cap.  We measure our entire lives in dress sizes:  "I'm losing ten to fit into my prom dress."  Then, "I'm losing ten to fit into my wedding dress."  Me?  I'm losing ten to fit into my burial dress.  And finally, and this is my favourite, we buy a snack of a Snickers bar and a Diet Coke.

But the one thing I'm seeing a lot of, and am beginning to get a wee bit hot under my collar about, is that those of us who are participants of this year's NaNoWriMo, are now getting burned for such participation by "real" writers.  I've spent two days of this week alone addressing half-considered comments on another forum in which I'm a contributing author, from writers too proud to admit they don't know everything there is to know under the sun about writing.  Or, about Nano.

"Mandatory word counts?  Ah--that would then explain the myriad sub-par material lining bookstore shelves."  This paraphrased comment from one writer.

Then another, less-snarky author who genuinely questioned the process said this paraphrased comment:  "Seems the only goal of this event is to get 50,000 words in any order saved to a file.  Big deal."

In short, I am a comedy writer.  I love writing comedy--it makes me happy.  So when I sit down to tackle yet another brilliant comedic essay, or my comedic novel (of which I'm currently writing for Nano), for someone like me who deals with the negative effects of a high-IQ to be able to simply sit and write with the express intent of only getting the story out onto the page is extremely liberating!  Comedy writers often employ something I've spoken about before, called a burn draft.  You sit and write your story as quickly as you can with no thought for content, or even quality.  Then you go back and really work it into something of brilliance when the draft is done.  Do you know how often I deal with that bitch editor of mine?  Too often to count.  So when the chance came to sign up for this event, sure, I had my own questions at first, but decided for once in my life not to over think anything and just jump in with both feet and let 'er rip.

And I'm SO glad I did!  This morning before heading to bed at 4 a.m., I hit the 30,000 word mark.  And looking back on it, while there is one scene of dialogue interaction between the two main characters that I've never been so happy with, most of it will remain after the final draft is done, only to be shaped, molded and worked like fine clay into something of brilliance that my readers/fans have come to expect from me (I'm so full of it I sicken myself sometimes).

So let the LA Times columnists of the world roar, I say. Let those who consider themselves to be NOVELists of LITerature piss all over your efforts.  We both know that those who are participating will only take away from the event only what they were meant to:  If you're not a serious writer, then come December 1 you'll end up trashing what you've written, and if you are a serious writer, as I am, then come December 1 you'll put the work away, have a cookie, and then a month later let the revisions begin.

But in the meantime, the next time someone snarks at you for writing a novel that chances are will never see one of those bookstore shelves, just remember this:  with your metabolism, YOU will still be able to enjoy that Snickers bar and Diet Coke, and that snarker?  In about five years when they're too old to remember their name, they'll be gumming their food.

Life's good, innit?

NaNoWriMo--Day Fifteen and Kicking It Up The Arse




Father Ted kicks Bishop Brennan up the Arse

 That's right fans and Twits:  I'm kicking bishops and taking names.

I just LOVE the Britcom Father Ted, and since one of my chapters from this evening introduced my own Bishop Ted Macguire, a MAJOR antagonist to my Father Jack, well, I thought this photo rather fitting.

By the way, did I tell you I have procured special permission from the Graham Linehan to not only reference Father Ted in my novel, but to also quote parts of the series?  I never, ever get starry-eyed over famous people.  Mostly because to some I am still famous from my television and stage work, but also because the friends I've worked with and are colleagues of, are, to me, simply brilliant and talented friends, but to the rest of the world, they're Kip Wingers, Brett Cullens, James Strausses, and yes...Graham Linehans.

However, I was so honoured that Graham not only gave me permission, but SPOKE to me, that I nearly fainted when he replied to my Tweet.  I felt like I'd just met the Pope himself.

Days fourteen and fifteen have blissfully blended together, because yesterday at 9:30 p.m., I went on a marathon writing session with the sole purpose of getting caught up.

As of thirty minutes ago, I had not only accomplished that goal (our cumulative word count up to today was supposed to be 25,000 if we were writing according to their schedule), but surpassed it by 1,063 words (ending up writing a total of 7,605).  Well, one of my writing buddies had topped out at 25,139 and I simply could not be outdone.

So then, what's in store for today?

More writing, of course.  I may now be caught back up with the Nano guidelines, but I'm still sorely behind on my own.  For a 70,000 word comedic novel to be written in 30-days, I need to be writing a solid 2,333 each day, which is about the average length of one of my chapters.

And like the last time the words and story idea simply poured out of me, today's writing was no different because these chapters had little to no research required.  And I've realised that since my Father Jack has severe OCD, I need to incorporate some of those details to make him authentic, as well as make the comedy spark.

However, I've decided to hold off on doing this, until time for the rewrites.  In fact, there's a lot of detail that I'm purposely leaving out until the rewrites.  I think for a novel to be written at his pace, it's the only way to accomplish that and stay sane at the same time.

On a related Nano note, one of my writing buddies that I whined to early on during my dark days of not being able to find my way, sent me a sweet, oh-so-sweet note yesterday saying he'd been watching my word count progress, and was proud of me, and wanted to encourage me to keep going.  Now THAT, is what I call a writing buddy who knows how to encourage you, even when you didn't ask for it!

Off to bed.  Talk tomorrow.  Have a great day, everyone, and keep at it; you can do it!

NaNoWriMo--Day Thirteen and in Labour

What do I constantly preach here, other than a story should begin at the story, and there is never enough conflict? That's right--that you should shut up your internal editor until after you've completed your first draft. Engage that sucker too soon and you're setting yourself up for nothing more than a hefty dose of writer's block.

So, will someone kindly tell me what the hell my problem is, then? Every time I sit down to write another chapter, all I can hear is my mum snarking away at me from my right shoulder: "This is crap. It isn't funny, and you write comedy. What the hell were you thinking? Macy's is hiring; get a real job. You do know, you're a fecking mad eejit, don't you?"

Well, okay. Mum never used the word fecking and she wasn't Irish, but follow along.

Usually when I sit down to write comedic essays or short-stories, I make them funny as I go. And they come very easy to me. I don't think I've ever had to go into labour for a joke with such pains it feels as if I'm blowing a Saint Bernard out my ass.  Can't remember ever writing a piece in which I needed an epidural.

But with this novel, I'm trying to just create a good, solid story--get that out of me first, and then go back and add the funny--like John Vorhaus and any good comedy writer will tell you to do.

So then, why am I not being able to mentally get past the fact that so far, this is nothing but a right piece of shite? I wrote at least 2,600 words every day back in July and August when I finished GASLIGHT, and it pretty much came out close to the way I wanted it.

But on this, my dialogue sounds forced, the writing seems quite stilted in some places, and there are damned uninvited characters popping up all over the place, wrecking havoc by creating scenes that I haven't even authorised! It's nothing but anarchy in Father Jack's world, and frankly, he's making mine a living hell.

HELP! Tell me how to shut up this urge to want everything to be absolutely perfect before it's time.

NaNoWriMo--Day Six, just skipped right over day five

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."