A day aside
Aug. 7th, 2011 12:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperanceThis is ... not a day off, no. But I am trying not to write today.
I have somehow found myself engaged in a race, a book-race (the rumour out there is that this is My Fault, but I deny it absolutely; I am confident that the fossil record will bear me out). Anyway: I have to write a novel, in what is basically five weeks' work among the eight weeks before Sept 30th.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mizkit thinks that she can write a book from scratch in five weeks. la_marquise_de_ needs that kind of creative burst on her current novel; so does suricattus; so does kateelliott. Others may be playing along (anghara, are you in?).
It's an open race; feel free to join us. Everyone, effectively, is running their own race to their own insane schedule: five weeks flat, or five weeks out of eight, or all eight and see how far we get. Not everyone is aiming to finish in the time, it's just about distance for some of us. Pounding out the miles. The only common factor is the insanity of the ambition; that's all we test for. Join us!
Anyway: we start tomorrow. So today, I am Not Writing. Partly I entertain the charming nonsense that this will cause a head of steam to bank up behind this brief dam, so I'll get a surge in the morning and a flying start. More seriously, I have No Idea what happens in this damn book - the first 13K that I've written were all surprises, all the way: I didn't have a clue that the book was about that, not nohow, but there it is and now I have to deal with it - so the plan is that today I should spend thinking. Sorting stuff in my head. It kind of feels like cheating, but there you go. Everyone prepares their own way: some people train for a race, some people cram for an exam. Some of them probably have proper synopses and everything. Some of us? Would rather busk it as we go, but we might try to smuggle some notes in. Written on our sleeve.
Or I might just watch movies all afternoon. And cook a vast pot of chilli, to see me through the week. I kinda like eating the same thing night after night, it keeps things easy. Creature of habit, me. Lamb, I think, and white beans. And habaneros. Some like it hot.
I have somehow found myself engaged in a race, a book-race (the rumour out there is that this is My Fault, but I deny it absolutely; I am confident that the fossil record will bear me out). Anyway: I have to write a novel, in what is basically five weeks' work among the eight weeks before Sept 30th.
mizkit thinks that she can write a book from scratch in five weeks. la_marquise_de_ needs that kind of creative burst on her current novel; so does suricattus; so does kateelliott. Others may be playing along (anghara, are you in?).It's an open race; feel free to join us. Everyone, effectively, is running their own race to their own insane schedule: five weeks flat, or five weeks out of eight, or all eight and see how far we get. Not everyone is aiming to finish in the time, it's just about distance for some of us. Pounding out the miles. The only common factor is the insanity of the ambition; that's all we test for. Join us!
Anyway: we start tomorrow. So today, I am Not Writing. Partly I entertain the charming nonsense that this will cause a head of steam to bank up behind this brief dam, so I'll get a surge in the morning and a flying start. More seriously, I have No Idea what happens in this damn book - the first 13K that I've written were all surprises, all the way: I didn't have a clue that the book was about that, not nohow, but there it is and now I have to deal with it - so the plan is that today I should spend thinking. Sorting stuff in my head. It kind of feels like cheating, but there you go. Everyone prepares their own way: some people train for a race, some people cram for an exam. Some of them probably have proper synopses and everything. Some of us? Would rather busk it as we go, but we might try to smuggle some notes in. Written on our sleeve.
Or I might just watch movies all afternoon. And cook a vast pot of chilli, to see me through the week. I kinda like eating the same thing night after night, it keeps things easy. Creature of habit, me. Lamb, I think, and white beans. And habaneros. Some like it hot.