Grotesque underlying emails
Their rough surface makes entrance and exit easier
— the latest #spamcommentary.
I finished NaNoWriMo on November 20th. Unlike previous sorties, it wasn’t a strain: more like receiving a daily flu shot than suffering from a post-apocalyptic plague, pun fully intended.
I will give credit where credit is due to 4TheWords. I signed up for it in 2016, and never activated my membership, for ReasonsIDon’tEvenRemember. This time around through NaNoWriMo, I decided to give the app a legitimate try just to see if slaying monsters with words could help me think of creative writing as something I want to do as opposed to Yet One More Thing I Have To Get To And Ideally Through Before I Get Whatever Sleep I Can Manage. I did enjoy Habitica in my early days using it (before it became Just Another Grind for me), and I figured that I might get the same sort of boost from 4TheWords. It was a sound assumption: the app did help, in a ticking timer sort of way that was more fun to keep pace with than any of the actual ticking timers that I use daily.
I didn’t get anywhere close to a first draft on the literary science fiction thing I was poking at, but I wrote enough of a skeleton to realize what critical body parts the novel is missing: mainly, a compelling reason for the protagonist not to spend his next Wednesday afternoon trying to get run over by a self-driving bus. Correction, a compelling reason to keep his author from wanting him to spend his next Wednesday afternoon trying to get run over by a self-driving bus.
Actually, I’m not sure that would be a terrible opening scene. A reader could have so many questions, like … why is this guy out running around in traffic trying to get run over? Why is he so frustrated that it isn’t working? How are the passengers reacting to all this? Are they even noticing, or are they lost in their personal entertainment/communication/portable computing devices? The downside to the scene would be that I’d have to come up with a character motivation more uhm, something than “I am doing this because my author has it out for me”.
Speaking of such things, work is still trying to eat my life, despite my occasional best efforts to coat myself in hot pepper sauce, metaphorically speaking. During my more awake moments I have been questioning if I am just wired to take on projects and roles that will keep me insanely busy because I have some pathological need to have someone else set my priorities, or at least give me a reasonably lucrative excuse to get out of doing laundry or deciding what I want to be when I grow up.
Not that work is stopping me from accomplishing stuff outside of work. Ref: NaNoWriMo, mostly keeping up with the Duolingo French practice, parenting, unpacking, studying, decorating, and dealing with approximately a hundred different contractors while we were prepping the old house for sale.
And it is now freaking sold, so we can celebrate by, uh, buying a lawn tractor. Also, furniture. Curtains. A composter. Yay!