First real NaNo update
Nov. 4th, 2005 02:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elenearielFirst real NaNo update
So far--and yes, I realize I'm only four days in--it's been easier than I expected to write. Generally I get bored/busy/whatever and slack off after an initial period of excitement. This time, because I know I have to write a certain amount of words every day, it keeps the story in my mind almost all the time and thus keeps me excited about it. This is very good.
I love my characters. I feel bad that they're basically ripoffs of people I know IRL, but there you go. Easy to write about. =)
Something I have realized is that I'm much better at dialog than I thought. I used to feel that dialog was my weakest point in fiction writing, but it seems a lot better this time. This means that 1) I was deluded before, 2) I've actually gotten better, or 3) I'm deluded now. Whichever case, it pleaseth me.
I have a sort of rough idea of where the novel will end, but I'm not so sure about the middle parts. That's what I fear most...not having enough middle material to make it long enough! I have point A and point Z and I don't know yet about the 24 other points along the way.
I'm totally in love with my main male character. Yay for Puerto Riciandrug coffee importers.
I hope nobody expects this to be a very realistic book. It's sort of...not.
A couple excerpts below.
"The guy who--who did it, did the police every get him?"
"No."
"You mean he’s still out there?"
He paused on the last step and half turned. "No."
"Then--?"
"It was taken care of." And there was a quizzical half smile on his face as he watched how I would take the news.
"Good." I said, a little fiercely.
“So tell me about this wedding.” I downed another slice of apple and pushed a bowl of grapes in Ayn’s direction.
“Mmmph.” One would think she was Scottish, the way she could utter completely expressive but meaningless syllables. She picked out three dark purple grapes and slanted a sideways look at me. “Well...it’s at St. Patrick’s.” The first of the grapes was bitten into, releasing a fine mist of juice.
“You couldn’t find a justice of the peace?”
“Oh ho, I tried. He wouldn’t hear of it.”
“Sonny?”
“The only man who has an opinion in this matter.” Second grape, same action.
****
Other calls he always answered with a curt, “Sonny here”, but when he saw on the phone’s ID screen that it was me, I noticed his manner changed. Two rings, and then:
“Hi, you okay?’ Funny how his voice, rich like the coffee he imports, makes me feel safer and less adrift. I guess that means he’s my anchor.
“Yeah,” I said softly. “Hey, I was going to take Olivia down to Saks and a few other places to buy her a dress.”
“She really need one?”
I laughed. “Yes, considering the dress you bought me. She hates feeling underdressed for an occasion. But Sonny, it’s not really about the dress, you know. I--we--need some time to do something together instead of sitting here looking at each other.”
“Um...” When I hear the hesitation in his voice I always know he’s unsure of whether to tell me something. “I talked to her last night.”
“I know.” I’d been relieved, was relieved now. “Thanks, Sonny, that was...that was good of you.”
He dismissed, as usual, any notion of the sort. “Yeah, yeah. Okay, so you take a car, and have Michael drive you.”
“C’mon, Sonny. Michael has better things to do.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
“Sonny.”
“He does not.”
“Santino Carelli!” A pause. “Fine.” Another pause, and I say, much softer, “Thank you.”
“I’ll call him and have him bring the car around in--what, twenty minutes?”
I hated to bother Michael--who really does have better things to do--but Sonny’s concern, as always, makes me feel warm and taken care of. “Sure, that’ll work.”
“Okay, then.” I heard the smile in his voice, could see in my mind the way his eyes must be crinkling at the corners. “Be careful, and I’ll see you later today.”
I echo our customary goodbye. “Okay, you too. See you then.”
| |
9,900 / 50,000 (19.8%) |
So far--and yes, I realize I'm only four days in--it's been easier than I expected to write. Generally I get bored/busy/whatever and slack off after an initial period of excitement. This time, because I know I have to write a certain amount of words every day, it keeps the story in my mind almost all the time and thus keeps me excited about it. This is very good.
I love my characters. I feel bad that they're basically ripoffs of people I know IRL, but there you go. Easy to write about. =)
Something I have realized is that I'm much better at dialog than I thought. I used to feel that dialog was my weakest point in fiction writing, but it seems a lot better this time. This means that 1) I was deluded before, 2) I've actually gotten better, or 3) I'm deluded now. Whichever case, it pleaseth me.
I have a sort of rough idea of where the novel will end, but I'm not so sure about the middle parts. That's what I fear most...not having enough middle material to make it long enough! I have point A and point Z and I don't know yet about the 24 other points along the way.
I'm totally in love with my main male character. Yay for Puerto Rician
I hope nobody expects this to be a very realistic book. It's sort of...not.
A couple excerpts below.
"The guy who--who did it, did the police every get him?"
"No."
"You mean he’s still out there?"
He paused on the last step and half turned. "No."
"Then--?"
"It was taken care of." And there was a quizzical half smile on his face as he watched how I would take the news.
"Good." I said, a little fiercely.
“So tell me about this wedding.” I downed another slice of apple and pushed a bowl of grapes in Ayn’s direction.
“Mmmph.” One would think she was Scottish, the way she could utter completely expressive but meaningless syllables. She picked out three dark purple grapes and slanted a sideways look at me. “Well...it’s at St. Patrick’s.” The first of the grapes was bitten into, releasing a fine mist of juice.
“You couldn’t find a justice of the peace?”
“Oh ho, I tried. He wouldn’t hear of it.”
“Sonny?”
“The only man who has an opinion in this matter.” Second grape, same action.
****
Other calls he always answered with a curt, “Sonny here”, but when he saw on the phone’s ID screen that it was me, I noticed his manner changed. Two rings, and then:
“Hi, you okay?’ Funny how his voice, rich like the coffee he imports, makes me feel safer and less adrift. I guess that means he’s my anchor.
“Yeah,” I said softly. “Hey, I was going to take Olivia down to Saks and a few other places to buy her a dress.”
“She really need one?”
I laughed. “Yes, considering the dress you bought me. She hates feeling underdressed for an occasion. But Sonny, it’s not really about the dress, you know. I--we--need some time to do something together instead of sitting here looking at each other.”
“Um...” When I hear the hesitation in his voice I always know he’s unsure of whether to tell me something. “I talked to her last night.”
“I know.” I’d been relieved, was relieved now. “Thanks, Sonny, that was...that was good of you.”
He dismissed, as usual, any notion of the sort. “Yeah, yeah. Okay, so you take a car, and have Michael drive you.”
“C’mon, Sonny. Michael has better things to do.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
“Sonny.”
“He does not.”
“Santino Carelli!” A pause. “Fine.” Another pause, and I say, much softer, “Thank you.”
“I’ll call him and have him bring the car around in--what, twenty minutes?”
I hated to bother Michael--who really does have better things to do--but Sonny’s concern, as always, makes me feel warm and taken care of. “Sure, that’ll work.”
“Okay, then.” I heard the smile in his voice, could see in my mind the way his eyes must be crinkling at the corners. “Be careful, and I’ll see you later today.”
I echo our customary goodbye. “Okay, you too. See you then.”