WiPpet Wednesday: revenge of the half-arsed project

Still plugging away at Camp NaNo.  I'm 8,737 words into a story I have no idea about while my characters search for both the plot and the Thing (that I have a vague notion is large, round and flat and does something bad), and are doing pretty damn badly at finding both...

To be fair to absolutely nobody, my entire cabin (which is to say, two other writers) is making much the same kind of progress as me.  Turns out handwriting these things is bloody awkward.  This is what I get for spending over half my life in front of computers...

I don't even know how I'm almost 9,000 words in.  It certainly doesn't feel like it.

WiPpet Wednesday

It's the most stealthy day of the week, the one I always fail to see coming...  WiPpet Wednesday is a blog hop run by the ever-awesome K. L. Schwengel, and a blog hop with a twist: every post relates in some way to the date!  If you want to find out more (and you should~), you can find more information and others' posts over at the inlinkz page.

Today's maths was... pretty simple, I thought, when I worked it out?  It's the 15th June 2015, so I added 1+5 to make 6, added it to the month (7) for 13, then for I added 2+0+1 to make 3, and removed that 3 from the 5 for 2, and added that to the 13 to make 15 for 15 (quite short) paragraphs...

And then I realised it's the 15th today and that would have done perfectly well by itself.

Still on the half-arsed project, and I'm concluding the one with the real sense of humour here is Ais.  Lirio has (sort of) freed Ais, taken him to see the boss (a l'il bit of that was posted on Monday) and now, quite a lot later, they're home again.

And still bickering.

For all his stubbornness and the way he took great care to make sure cleaning Ais’ face hurt, Lirio wasn’t hard to persuade to bed.  “Ten minutes,” he’d grumbled, allowing Ais to pull off his shirt and pull him into his arms on the bed, but when fifteen had passed and he was sound asleep with his head on Ais’ shoulder, Ais didn’t have the heart to wake him.  And with Lirio’s rhythmic breathing against him, he could hardly be blamed for dozing off himself, could he?

So it wasn’t particularly fair to be woken up by a punch to the arm so hard his fingers immediately went numb.  “Hey!”

“Have you got any idea what time it is?”  Lirio yelled at almost deafening volume into Ais’ ear.  “What the hells did you think you were doing?”

“Exactly the same thing you were.  Sleeping.”

Lirio stared at him like he was crazy, and for so long he started to wonder if he was.  “So everything you said about wanting a week, how you could find information—when did you plan to start?  When you only had one day left?”

“No...”  Ais found himself squirming under Lirio’s incredulity.  By all the sea gods he could think of, the man was a head shorter than him, he shouldn’t be able to make him so nervous.  But then, Lirio was the scarier one here.  “But a few hours’ delay can’t hurt, can it?  You said yourself you’ve had no sleep and I was busy getting beaten up.”

Lirio sniffed in the most derisive way Ais had ever heard a sniff be sniffed.  “You didn’t even know what day it was.  You slept through most of it.”

“Doesn’t mean it was comfortable,” Ais huffed, twisting to show off to Lirio the bruises mottling his torso, and froze at the sight of Lirio’s flat belly.  “What’s that?”

Lirio glanced down, mouth open to no doubt complain again, then clacked it shut and yanked the sheet up, like he thought covering the fist-sized bruise smack in the middle of his belly would make Ais immediately forget it existed.

It didn’t.  “Lirio, what happened in that meeting?”

“I told you.  Nothing.”

“You also told me you didn’t want to talk about it, and that doesn’t sound—or look—like nothing to me.”

Lirio sighed a long-suffering sigh, but Ais felt him lean fractionally away.  “It’s a reminder.”

When it seemed like a polite silence might be too subtle, Ais prompted, “of?”

This time the sigh was softer and more heartfelt.  “Of what will happen if I bring you back empty-handed at the end of the week.”

WiPpet Wednesday: a totally half-arsed project

I'm not being facetious either: it's Camp NaNo and I was woefully unprepared.  I didn't write anything at all the first day, because I didn't know which project to work on and as our small cabin is handwriting our stories I didn't want to start writing anything I was already mid-type.

So I sat down on the second day and just started writing, and it turned out I was writing about Lirio and Ais, who first turned up under L is for Lirio in the A-Z Challenge.  There even seems to be a plot, though it's being a little stubborn at making itself fully known, which involves a thing that Ais should have fetched that is now missing.

Would love to know what the thing is though...

So, yep.  This month is now given over to a project I am not just winging, but am pantsing in ways I haven't pantsed for years.

WiPpet Wednesday

WiPpet Wednesday is a blog hop hosted by the lovely K. L. Schwengel, where participants share snippets from their WIPs with just one twist: the excerpt must in some way relate to the date, either through simple means or fancy maths.  You can read more (well worth it) and find out more over here.

Last week we left Fayth with the bombshell that RQ is going to be executed as he has outlived his usefulness.

This week, we're going to still leave him there, because you're getting something from this barely-even-first-draft WIP instead.  Mostly because half-arsed though it may be, I'm having a lot of fun with it, and it turns out I rather like Lirio and Ais (though I'm not sure the feeling is mutual).

Today is the 8th July 2015 (8/7/2015), so today's maths goes as follows: 2+0+1+5 = 8 - 7 = 1.  1 + 8 = 9 for nine paragraphs from the first section.  And don't worry when I say "9 paragraphs": handwriting everything means most paragraphs are very short...

He did his best to glower at him through his remaining good eye, but from the widening of the smirk the whole effect was spoiled by his bruised face and black eye.  “I won’t.”

“You’ve found your voice?”  The leader asked, amusement positively dripping from every word.  “We’re making progress already.  It won’t be long before you’re singing pretty songs and eating out the palm of my hand.  Maybe even literally.  I’d enjoy that.”

His eyes widened in horror—at the exact same moment the leader’s did.  When he toppled backwards, rapidly followed by his accomplice, it was with the same stupid, shocked expression.

One he wore himself as a voice, a familiar voice, growled out, “only thing you’ll enjoy is a splitting headache, dick.”

That voice.  He knew that voice like the back of his foot—like the back of his hand but marginally less familiar.  But it couldn’t be, because that would just be wrong.  It would turn the world on its head.  And worst of all, it would totally blow his cover.

Maybe, if he was lucky, he wouldn’t recognise him.

“Ais?”  So much for that.  “Ais, is that you?  What’re you doing here?”

He turned a bloody smile up at his lover.  Well.  Probably ex-lover now.  “Lirio.  Never expected to see you here.”  After all, how much worse could it get?

From the pursing of Lirio’s lips and the way his fingers twitched for the knives at his belt, probably much, much worse.

This Hasn't Exactly Gone According To Plan

On the 1st July I started Camp NaNoWriMo.  Well, technically I started it.  Just like the title says, it's... not exactly gone according to plan.  Being a naturally seat-of-the-pants writer who carries plotlines in their head rather than in any kind of physical form (incredibly awkward when you forget things), I decided to to take a different approach, and use one of my many notebooks in the process.

I think I'm missing a few here, and yes some are still in their wrapping.

Which was a great idea in theory.  In practice--or at least, in my hands--it was somewhat less so...  It started out well enough, just a short paragraph per section for what was intended to be a novella.

There was a system, honest. Writing in purple seemed like a good idea at the time too.

But the one thing I'm not is brief.  Or tidy.  I've posted about my handwriting a few times on Twitter--mostly that I can't even read it myself on occasions--and it's prone to getting taller and spikier the more tired (or drunk) I am, although the sad irony is that it's when I'm sober that I typo all over the place.  Either way, it somehow got away from me and now I'm left with 17 sides of crabby handwriting that I've got to decipher.

Too many pages... and this is only the last few, where I was mostly making an effort to be legible.

And I'm now also left with the weirdest set of conflicted feelings.

On one hand, this is the first time I've ever finished anything, even if it's badly handwritten and in rambling note form.  That includes ten years' worth of NaNoWriMo projects (I know how some of them end, sure.  I've just never gotten there) and a few side projects.  It's probably the reason why I've been happiest writing a continuing universe in short story form.  So I feel strangely proud, if that makes any sense?

On the other... I've just already written this, and now I have to write it again.  But longer.  With actual dialogue.  And not in purple.

It's the strangest sense of anticlimax.  I wonder if authors who plot everything out in minute detail feel the same way?  The lovely Danni at KenRenStationary/Four Words, Four Worlds did sensibly point out that at least now, even if I don't work on it immediately, I have a complete plot ready to go for when I do, but I'd like to get at least a little done for Camp NaNo even if I don't entirely feel like it...

I've got just over half a month to go, that's got to be good for at least half of it, right?

Right?

I Appear To Be Doing Camp NaNoWriMo

This has kinda come as a surprise to me.  I saw a post by my friend and co-ML Anika Daniels on Tumblr last night about Camp NaNoWriMo--something I've strenuously avoided doing officially as we as a writing group don't treat it like NaNo proper and I am atrocious with deadlines--and idly posted about whether to do it.

Two responses to the affirmative later (hey, I never said I was popular!) and I'm being swayed.  I really should work on how easily influenced I am.

Normally on the lead-in to a NaNo project I'm scrabbling around like a lunatic, trying to scrape together enough inspiration to keep me going over the month.  More than once I've relied on dreams to give me a last minute plot (neither of which actually made it into the prose).  This time, however...

Okay, I'll admit it, I'm at a loss.  I'm normally struggling for ideas, now they're trying to drown me under a mountain of plot-bunnies.  (They look remarkably like shed dog-hair.)

I have, in no particular order:

1. Prince Til and his dragon/lover, who're still tapping their feet and waiting for me to supply them with an adequate adventure;
2. An unnamed princess and her dragon/lover who turned up and promptly insisted she wasn't going to sit around in her tower for a husband, oh no--she was going to be a knight;
3. A completely out-of-nowhere steampunk AU for Milos and Alex--because one AU is never enough, apparently;
4. Continuing my high fantasy AU from the Ridiculous Challenge (but I usually prefer to start a new project, which is probably why I have so many unfinished ones);
5. Leaping forward nine years in the high fantasy AU and having Alex rescue Milos from his new life;
6. Finally picking up with the real-world stories and starting the new arc that came threatening;
7. Or finally finishing one of the two former arcs that are sitting around waiting to be worked on...

Whatever I do, it'll involve plotting, which comes as a shock.  And I have around a week to decide on story and intended word count and work on it.

Still, I'm anticipating having plenty of time to work on it so with any luck (okay, a lot of luck) and some planning it won't be as disastrous as it currently feels like it might be...

ADDENDUM:  Do any of these look interesting?  I'm more than happy to take suggestions!