I can truly say I didn't expect them to produce a bottle of Ommegang Chocolate Indulgence—the 10th Anniversary 2007 limited edition stout brewed by Brewery Ommegang out of New York. They found it at The Bier Stein in Eugene and, well, a find like that you can't pass up.
It's been a couple of days since I crossed the 50,000-word mark of Nanowrimo, and it's been a good time:
It's been a relief finishing Nano, but also a little weird. The pressure of the deadline is off, and the new challenge is not some huge daily output, but consistently doing something, every day. I may take Thursday and Friday off writing, the better for me and Jodie to enjoy the holiday weekend, and during December I know that I intend not to touch the manuscript, though I may still continue to draft up scenes.
What happens next? It's hard to say, and I don't know. At some point I'll have written up all I think the novel needs for now. At that point, I'll put down the manuscript for a month or two, to get some mental distance from it, and then come back to it for the first editing and rewriting.
Sigh, if only it wasn't so true...
Link: SoWhatDoYouDO.jpg (JPEG Image, 500x616 pixels).
For the record...
Designers and editors aren't email techs. Or computer techs. We... oh, never mind...
Calling Jeffrey Morgenthaler! Was chatting with a friend of mine recently, and he and I came up with an interesting cocktail concept, that he dubbed the "Celtic Samurai":
Celtic Samurai
Now to suss out how the actual mixing, and to see about having one of these...
Sunday, November 23, 2008
I did it. On Sunday, November 23, 2008, I crossed the 50,000-word finish line, and won Nanowrimo. Not that I really win anything, mind, except the joy at actually having a manuscript. But that's more than enough for me. For now.
And now? Now I think I'll keep going. There's still a week left, and there is still much I'd like to draft out. So I'm going to keep at it, until I feel done.
Jodie – this is all for you. Thank you for believing in me, and for kicking me in the arse whenever I've needed it. I love you.
"For a moment he closed his eyes and his mouth; still floating in the middle of the column of golden light, raised his legs and bent them at the knees, as if he were crouching in mid-air, and at the same time he brought his hands to his chest, palm-to-palm and finger-to-finger. He bent his forward, towards his touched hands.
He could no longer see the world, but he knew the world. He was the world.
He could no longer see the people around him, but he knew the people around him. He was these people, all these people, every person."
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Thought this evening would only be around 1100 words, but I hit a good grove and got more than the minimum. No other thoughts today – I've got beer to chill and, soon, guests to welcome. But the end is in sight!
"He took one last look at the woman, and for a moment his eyes teared up. I never really knew her, he thought, a mix of pity and anger and disappointment welling up in his. But now I know all I need to know.
He turned and walked towards the roof stairs. He had opened the door and set his foot on the first stair, when a bullet hit him in the shoulder, he heard the loud report of the pistol shot, and then the force of the impact knocked him forward, off his balance, and he fell down the stairs into darkness and pain."
Friday, November 21, 2008
A mellow night of writing, full of many short sections leading up to the main action of the novel. The sections were short and full of pace – lot of potential here.
"J— stood in the empty street, and hated feeling like a bad Western movie. He waited for the twanged notes of a guitar, for the tumbleweed to roll-bounce past, for the clod-step of a dusty boot to come into frame, in the middle of the street, opposite him.
But it was just him.
The sky darkened as clouds gathered. The sun was a memory; daylight and brightness were the stuff of fancy.
There was only J—, and the empty world.
Or so he thought."
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Tonight was a grueling evening of stalling, false starts, disjointed dead-end ideas, and internal resistance. I wanted to dink around on Facebook. I wanted to constantly check the wood stove. I wanted to look up TV shows on IMDB. I wanted to, well, do anything but writing.
Jodie called me a few minutes after I was all but banging my head on the desk, trying to tough out a couple of hundred words. I explained how slow the night was going, the way my brain felt like treacle. "Give yourself a set time, then," she said. "Write until, say, 8:30, and then just call it good."
People love to talk up the artist and solitude. Nonsense. If you truly want to endure in anything creative, you need a good partner.
So I took Jodie's advice (and made coffee). Twenty minutes later, even though everything was disjointed and I was just doing up wee vignettes and jumping to something else, at least there were words coming out. Then I got my second cup, and mixed in a healthy dram of Drambuie. I thought more about what Jodie had said.
Things got easier. I was approaching 800 words, and it seemed a shame to stop there, when I was so close to 1,000. So I kept going. And if I could hit 1,000, well hell, surely I could struggle on to the bare minimum of 1,667? Well, okay... well, look, if I can get that, well, I've tried to hit 2,000 words each night, surely I could give that a go?
And suddenly, I was there – 2035 words. It wasn't easy. But I did finally hit a groove, and suddenly the time and the words flew. Or, in other words, I stopped giving a damn, got myself out of the way, and just wrote.
The home stretch is in sight. It's possible that I'll cross 50,000 words by Sunday night. If I can get through a night like tonight, then that's definitely doable.
A cool breeze blew in from the fields around the cabin, and they smelled of wood smoke, leaves, and roasting meat.
Home.
J— felt a tear in the corner of his eye.
Home.
The real thing – more real than his dreams and memories, and at last, possible.
He turned and looked back at her.
“But… it’s been so long.”
“Has it really?”
“Hasn’t it?”
“It doesn’t have to be, if you don’t want it to be.”
From carrying only one bag to improving how you pack, there are lots of ways both to cut how much you pack, and to have what you pack take up less space:
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
This evening's ride on my sidecar motorcycle did not in any way influence tonight's nano output, I swear.
"She loved the world through the goggles, and rush of the wind over her, blocking out all sound but the twin roars of the wind and the engine. How the world changed, here, blurring by so fast, but yet all so slow, so slow as if it were all riding with her, as if she was standing still in the middle of all of it. C— pressed in the clutch, kicked down her heel to shift up a gear, and released the clutch while snapping the throttle. She grinned at the feel forward, at the way the engine buzzed and hummed and was so powerful, so vibrant it was damn near alive. She could get used to this."
