*headdesk*

Wednesday, November 5, 2008 at 11:13 pm Leave a comment

I was looking up writing prompts earlier in order to come up with something somewhat interested to post, but got distracted while trying to push my novel for NaNoWriMo up to 5,000. (How is it possible that I only wrote 400 in thirty minutes?)

I am determined to succeed at NaNoWriMo this year, in part because I feel like I’ve never finished anything important in my life. I’ve also never won anything in twenty-five years. I take that back — I won a huge, red stuffed bear when I was about three that towered over me. I named her Emily. I think I named all of my toys Emily.

But I seem destined to fail at this novel writing business. My therapist would call it a self-fulfilling prophecy, but I think it’s good old pessimism and doubt. I came up with a very detailed plot for my novel thinking that would help speed the process of writing, along with the fact that it’s a book for old kids and young teenagers, so I don’t have to write lots of big words and similes. Fucking similes.

What I failed to take in account is that there is all this middle ground between plot points. I can’t seem to get out of the second chapter, because it is SO DAMN BORING to write about insignificant things that happen in order to lead up to actual action. Like, right now, my main character’s mother is cooking her an egg. AN EGG. It has absolutely nothing to do with the plot. It’s not like later on in the book the character will go, “Oh, remember that egg I ate. It changed my life and will totally change the course of history.” No. It’s a friggin’ egg.

My cat is sleeping in a chair next to me with his paws above his head. Maybe I should write a 50,000 word book on him. He’s more interesting than breakfast.

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Entry filed under: Actual life. Tags: .

It’s kinda true. After a marriage and two affairs, I think he probably knew…

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