National Novel Writing Month

Being that I fancy myself a writing type--an author, as of this writing, of no repute--I tend to read some other blogs that are heavily slanted toward the writing universe, as well. Never forget, this whole thing started out as a way to keep track of my last work-in-progress and, while I've strayed from my roots vastly (TMI Thursdays, I'm looking lovingly at you...), I am still, at the core, a would-be author bitching about not being published yet (and whining about why no one likes his favorite sports teams...if you remember the original tagline of the blog).

You can imagine, then, my amazement when I came across several writing blogs where the authors of said blogs were surprised by this whole National Novel Writing Month "contest", or NaNoWriMo for short. For those who are (yet) unenlightened, let me boil this down for you: starting on November 1, take an original concept, beat on the keys of your keyboard, crank out 50,000 words revolving around your original concept on or before November 30th. That's it. The novel doesn't have to be complete (for instance, DAW books doesn't consider a book a novel unless it's at least 80,000 words...which is my low-water mark and the goal to which I shoot upon each new project), but it does have to be 50,000 words long.

Sounds nice, right? Well, there's a problem. See, I could finish a 50,000 word novel in a day. Since people are full of themselves, there are plenty of folks who voice concerns along the lines of "How do I know that your software isn't going to steal my beautifully-crafted story that I just vomited onto the screen in less than a month and sell it and make yourself rich off of it?" The answer comes in two parts: One, you're a shitty writer. Two, instead of actually counting the words you wrote, the program converts the words you submit to the counter into some unintelligible garbage. In other words, something like "To be or not to be, that is the question" turns into "Forks must be a difficult place for you to live." This little switcheroo protects the author from having his or her work stolen while validating that they did, actually, get to at least 50,000 words.

My patented method for achieving NaNoWriMo success? Write the word "blah". Copy. Paste. Repeat. Run the word count software until you hit 50,001. Save. Submit. Rub everyone else's noses in the fact that you wrote a 50,000 word novel in about thirty minutes. Post the award on your site. Masturbate over how fucking awesome you are.

Yes, I've done NaNoWriMo two and a half times. Twice, I succeeded in achieving the mystical 50,000 word plateau (actually, one year it was 57,000, another, 65,000). The third year I was doing it, I got to 29,000 words and said to myself, "What the fuck am I doing? I hate this story, I hate the idea that I have to write this shit, and for what? A stupid little picture of a squirrel (or whatever it was) to put on my geocities site? What a waste of time." Instead, I took my time and wrote a very good story filled with likable characters and a compelling plotline that I enjoyed writing. Clearly, NaNoWriMo is not for me, at least not now. If you'll allow me a bit of self-indulgence...NaNoWriMo was beneficial when I wasn't as good a writer. I've matured past that, though. Validation isn't a .pdf of a writing award or a button I can hang on the sidebar of my site. Validation is people telling me that they liked my story, of coming back and reading it again, of maybe getting that coveted writing contract.

I'm not going to do NaNoWriMo ever again. However, I am going to write 50,000 words this month in my current work. This is mostly just a way of forcing me to get my act together, shut down the Civ III for a while, and actually put some meaningful work into my current manuscript. Instead of logging into a site and recording my progress there, I'll do it here (the NaNoWriMo word count bar is pretty fucking fabulous, I will say). And, when I get to 50,000 words, I'll finally tell you what the story is about other than hinting at it being a story set in Ancient Greece.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go masturbate over how fucking awesome I am.

A Legendary Tale

A cold, dismal rain fell upon the walls of Camelot. King Arthur sat, brooding, in his personal chambers. He rested his brow upon his left hand while he clutched a chalice of wine in his right. Staring into the fire, he barely heard the knock that came upon his door.

"Enter," he barked. As Merlin strode through the portal and made to bow, Arthur waved off his genuflection and silently gestured to another chair, tacitly instructing his court magician to seat himself.

"What bothers you, my king?" Merlin asked as he sat, "Your summons seemed pressed and urgent."

"I need to travel north, my old friend," Arthur immediately stated. "I have arranged for a meeting with the chiefs of the Pictish and Caledonian tribes." Arthur sighed. "I cannot hope to repel the Saxons if I must guard against attack from the north. I seek to foment peace with the northerners, with an eye toward an alliance against our invaders."

"Well thought, my king," Merlin countered.

"I will be leaving in a week," Arthur continued. "Since northern blood courses through your veins, I am asking that you accompany me on the journey."

"Of course, my king," Merlin beamed. "It will be good to see my old homelands once again."

"I wish to travel lightly," Arthur stated flatly, "It will just be the two of us, and, my friend, we travel as equals. I do not want the northerners to see me as a conquerer, but rather as an ally. At the same time, I want the Saxons to think that I remain holed up in the castle, awaiting their attack." The king sighed. "To that end, I will leave the Knights of the Round Table here to guard Camelot."

"A bold plan," Merlin stated, rubbing his chin.

"To be sure," Arthur replied, "but the real rub is in my Lady wife. I want absolutely nothing to besmirch my Lady's good name while I am gone. I need you, Merlin, to think of a way to protect her while I am gone."

"But, my king, the Knights of the Round Table will be here. They have taken oaths to protect you and Queen Guinevere!"

"The knights are my main reason for concern," Arthur stated. "I trust them in battle to remain true to me, to follow the code of chivalry that I have established, but when presented with an unparalleled beauty like that of the Queen's..." Arthur's words trailed off into a sigh. "They are only men, Merlin, and as creatures crafted of flesh, they are susceptible to carnal temptations."

"I understand, my King, and I think I know of a solution," Merlin said, nodding.

"Good, then, return to me in three days with your solution. After that, we shall prepare to leave for the northern kingdoms."

In three days time, Merlin returned and met with the king in Arthur's chambers once more. This time, however, he brought with him a contraption that looked much like a chastity belt, save that it had a guillotine-like blade at the front opening to dissuade potential penetrants.

"Brilliant!" Arthur stated. "Prepare your things, my friend. We leave two mornings hence." With that, Arthur swept from his chambers with the chastity belt in his grasp so that he may fit it upon his lady wife.

True to his word, Arthur and Merlin left two mornings later, setting a brisk pace for the northern kingdoms where they were met with warm greetings and open minds. The meetings with the northern clan chiefs was a success and, after several days of celebrating, Arthur and Merlin set out to return to Camelot, a peace treaty and mutual protection pact with the northern tribes in place. The Picts and Caledonians had agreed to join with Arthur to repel the foreign invaders in the east and Arthur promised to not try and conquer the north for his own.

Returning triumphant, Arthur summoned the Knights of the Round Table to his war room where they would discuss their strategies for battling the Saxons. However, he noticed that several of the knights came limping into room, and Arthur was given to a fit of rage where he demanded that every knight remove his pants immediately. Upon inspection, Arthur saw that the knights were mutilated from where they had tried to circumvent Queen Guinevere's chastity belt. As Arthur continued to inspect those men he trusted as his friends, he saw that all of them--Sir Bors, Sir Kay, Sir Gawain, Sir Percival--were damaged beyond repair.

Finally, at the end of the line stood Sir Lancelot. A simple glance showed Arthur that Lancelot was unmutilated and whole. Overjoyed, he embraced the young knight.

"Lancelot, my dearest friend whom I love above all others," Arthur lauded the youth, "I knew I could trust you. You, among all of my friends and allies, I could trust with the sanctity of my marriage and the honor of my wife. Thank you...thank you, my friend. Now, please, speak and remind your fellow knights of the oaths each of you took to never force a lady or a gentlewoman."

However, Sir Lancelot was speechless.

What the Hell?

Ever go back and re-read something you posted and notice a big, glaring error? Normally, I go through and read my own stuff about three times before posting, making sure the grammar is up-to-snuff and such. I also like to make sure that the words flow well and that I don't use the same words over and over and over and over and over and over and over and...ahem...sorry. Sometimes I'll even notice something after I've posted, and so I go back to fix it and re-post the corrected edition. Sometimes, I'll even do this four or five times before I'm happy with the final product.

With that in mind, go back and read my last post. Do you see it? What the hell??? How the hell did I miss this: "when I wrong something mildly amusing" When I 'wrong' something? Sweet Jesus on a Pogo Stick. How far up between my ass cheeks had I buried my head when I typed out that little piece of nonsense? I'm guessing jejunum deep, but that's just a stab in the dark.

And here's the thing...it's been up for two days now. I hope you all knew that I meant to type "wrote" instead of "wrong". Fuckin' aye. I was sober when I posted it, too. I'll chalk it up to being so torn up by the word verification insulting me, or perhaps all the blood had drained from my brain as I was thinking about Scarlett Johansson, a large amount of jello, and a goat.

Now that I'm thinking about that again, I can understand why I wrong what I wrong the other day. Maybe, just maybe, I'm beginning to understand why no agents are picking up my manuscript...