I don’t know what happens next, but the stuff after that rocks!

The title. Right there, it sums up everything I’m feeling about my NaNoWriMo story.

I began part 3 in an interesting way. It’s just a piece of monologue from what could be considered a bad guy. The main character can hear him, but is paralyzed, which is also established in that monologue. At the end of that scene, a big twist.

And then it all just sucks. 3000, 4000 words of blah blah blah that just doesn’t feel good. I sort of kind of know what I want, but don’t know how to get there.

What I am sure off is what comes after all of that.

So, for the first time in my NaNoWriMo project, I need to skip a few scenes. Up until now, I was able to just keep on keeping on. Scene after scene, I managed to follow the narrative in a straight line. But now I need to take a leap of faith, skip some things, and write what I already know comes next.

Hopefully, this will illuminate the missing links. Somehow, what happens next after next will give insights into what happened before in better detail.

Anybody else having to do this?

Approaching a different approach

Different people have different approaches to the same issue. Whether it’s writing, framing, cooking, driving, or even reading. We all do it different than the next guy. Surely, we learn from others, steal — erm — be inspired by proven concepts and so and blah blah blah.

As for writing: My approach to writing on bigger projects sucks. It works. For a while. Maybe. Write a scene. Outline another, maybe two. Maybe write more. Edit this. Update that. Somehow I end up not ending up anywhere with this method.

At the end, I stare a huge pile of folders and documents named after chapters and scenes and whatnot. I miss the flow. I don’t see the chain. The link from A to B.

So. (I hate it when paragraphs start with so.)

So. I want to give something a quick thought here. I want to treat a story as pretty much just that: A story. Start telling it, don’t stop, don’t break, keep at it. Don’t think about scenes. Don’t think about chapters. Just tell the story as it happens. Leave a blank line to mark major jumps in time/space, but don’t start a different document for another chapter. Nor do a page-break. Just write. And write.

I will do that from now on. Once a document is done, I can cope-paste the parts I’d like to see in a chapter and give it whatever edit needed for it — at the end. Am I making sense here?

Anyways, I’d like to know what other people are doing. Methods. Tricks. Things to keep the flow going. Tell me, in the comments, what you do to do what you do, eh?

Looking for: Book recommendations


I’m looking for books to read. Urban Fantasy, some sort of Sci-Fi (not too far into the future. Think: Cyberpunk), maybe horror. Things that are twisted, sharp and fast. Unreliable, like the good ol’ Fight Club. A switchblade of metaphors like the Miriam Black series (Blackbirds, Mockingbird, Cormorant).

The options are too many for me to wade through and figure out what could and couldn’t be good. Time, time, time. So, if any and all of you have ideas or favourites in the genre of the bizarre, the satires and weird tales, please let me know.

Also, I prefer kindle. It’s cheap, and I don’t have room for real books. I know, it sucks. Boo me.

So, if anybody can tell me of good books, and has some kindle-links with it, that’d be awesome. (Also a great option to self-promote.)


Breaking all ties

These stupid, no-good pieces of shit. These damned to all hell stones in my grinding gears. A rip-off, in every sense of the way.

I’m talking about the plastic straps on garbage bags. These useless ties, with their danger-tape red, or caution-yellow. With their wrinkled hole to be pulled from, delivering agonizing resistance to that very act.

Patience-defying straps of doom. I loathe them. Loathe them with my soul.

I fumble and fumble and somehow–God knows how–get a grip on one side of the garbage bag strap. Oh, but the other side wants to play hide-and-fucking-seek. It won’t show up, folded nice and needly somewhere in-between two layers of black plastic. Somewhere in the folds of space-time. In oblivion.

Then, by the grace of the gods, I find the second end and pull. Gently, because this ain’t my first rodeo. Though, all for naught. Karma hates me. Fate hates me. The damned string rips–no matter what. No matter how gentle. No matter what brand. They all rip. And tear. And freak me the-fuck-out.

Strap–defier of the tie-up. Once again, I’m defeated. One piece of strap still in my clutch, the other still attached to the bag, and a garbage bag threatening to tip over by the force of the misjudged pull. Ready to spill, like the tears from eyes.

Ye Gods, we can sent a robot to mars. Why can’t we invent a garbage bag strap that isn’t the utter-most feeble and weak construct ever designed by humankind?

I’m angry now.