Friday, November 9, 2012

A Shocking Revelation

Afternoon, faithful blog readers (Lauren!!),

It's 1:36 PM and, despite having been in this institution of learning since 7:40 AM I am only 100 words away from 15,000 words, the daily goal. After this blog post, I'm going to go back to writing and try to get ahead, since my new goal is to finish before the 28th, when I leave for Northeast Theatre Festival.

I find myself wanting to speed through this post. Not because then I will be freed up to listen to music, or read, or mess around with my friends in my Anatomy and Physiology class, or any other procrastination that usually defines my life.

I want to speed through this post so I can go back to my novel and write.

Oh, god. You can use gifs on Blogger. It's going to be like Tumblr. You just can't enable me in this way.

However obvious it might be- she's a writer, obviously she'd like to write!- it's a big thing. The biggest problem I've had with my writing over the years is loving it. Deep inside, I've always had the desire to tell stories, to see my words in print and enjoyed by others. I don't only want to entertain people with my words, I want to move and change them, challenge the way they think. That's not going to be this book; there's a chance that won't be any of my books; but it is my dream.

It's not the motivation I had a problem with, it was the actual writing process. Ever since my first attempt at writing a novel two NaNos ago, which I gave up on about 12,000 words in and then tried to come back to to no avail, I have gotten out of the habit of writing. There were periods when I tried to write short stories or poems every day, but I would eventually run out of inspiration and give up.

This cat knows too much.

After resolving, finally, to finish this novel or die trying, I figured it would be an uphill battle, involving multiple breakdowns, a struggle to meet each day's wordcount- you know, the material for hilarious blog posts about my eventual insanity. Unfortunately for this blog, I once again love writing. And friends, it is a beautiful thing.

As for the progress of the novel, it is 26 pages so far and I have about two chapters written. I haven't gotten to the main conflict or anything but exposition so far, which might seem like a failure but it gives me hope that this plot will be unlike the others and actually fill 50,000+ words. In my view, it seems like it will be 75,000+; after NaNo I will be participating in Row80 to finish the novel, and then the editing process begins.

It'll be a journey. To tide you over, and because I've been working on going back and adding imagery, etc., to the scenes, here's another excerpt.

“It is, isn’t it? But I feel much better now. You know, this party isn’t half bad. I usually dread these things- everyone feels so contrived. Tonight is different. There’s a certain sheen that people don’t usually possess, a brightness in the way that they walk and spout the socially acceptable lies- I don’t know if you’ve noticed?”
As silence spun out on a reel and filled the room, nervousness bloomed in my stomach, and I was worried I’d taken it too far. I had suspected Tanya was more astute than she let on; it was something in the way she wouldn’t let her husband strong-arm her around the party circuit, in the way that she would sometimes slip me a look during a particularly vapid conversation, like a secretive agreement that we both saw beyond the influx of meaningless words. But as Tanya said nothing, only stared at me with unnaturally bright brown eyes, I started to believe that it was only ever a trick of the light that made me envision those companionable glances and comprehension. After a couple seconds, during which my mind whirred, trying to come up with an acceptable path out of this conversation, she narrowed her eyes in an appraising manner. I felt like I was being analyzed.
She reached into her purse and grabbed one of the bottles she had salvaged from the floor only a minute or two ago. It was filled with little white pills that clattered around, reminding me of the call of a rattlesnake. The grin disappeared from my face.
“It’s Ritalin, don’t look so startled. I wouldn’t do anything illegal- well, really illegal,” Tanya said, smiling broadly and, with a bit of a struggle, undoing the plastic cap. “It’s fantastic, really changes the way you see things. You won’t be bored at another party ever again, I promise. What you just described? About this party and how it shines? That’s what it feels like all the time.” She chuckled and it sounded dissonant to my ears.
“No thanks, Tanya.”
The beatific smile wavered, but regained its brilliance. “You don’t want to save one just in case? You don’t have to take it now, but you might thank me later!” She shook the bottle in what was supposed to be an enticing way. The sound echoed around the tiled bathroom like gunfire. One of the pills dislodged itself and flew onto the counter, but neither of us made a move to retrieve it. I sighed and tried to take any tone of reproach out of my words.
“I’m alright, thank you for the offer, though. I’m glad it works for you.”
Tanya shrugged and recapped the bottle, stowing it back into her carry-all bag.
“I’m glad you don’t need it, honey. I suppose I’d be a better person if I didn’t.” She smirked, reaching around me for the door. “But you people don’t want to see the monster I am usually. Ta-ta, dear, I’m going to enjoy the rest of this party. See you out there.” In a moment she was gone, leaving only the lingering smell of her perfume behind her. 

Beautifully focused and forever yours,


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