How's Nanowrimo going, you ask?

Sharon thought that the afternoon was complete: her homework done, errands run, a tall green tea in one hand. Notebooks sat on the outside patio table in a neat stack, and next to them were other books, mostly comics of various origin.

A crashing sound a few yards to the northwest got her attention—a crashing sound that was soon followed by a lot of cursing, Curious, she set her tea down and jogged in the direction of all the noise. The majority stopped rather quickly, however, ending with one loud, final-sounding thud.

“What in the…?”

The only sign that anything had happened were the bricks near one of the juniper shrubs. She looked at those bricks for a long time before checking the shrubbery.

It took her a while to realize that not all of the green in that shrub was shrubbery. A very familiar shock of green hair blended in quite well with the juniper debris.

“Holy—Lowell?”

 

 

Lowell isn’t having the best day right now. LOL

Chrysanth WebStory What’s your WebStory today?

I HAVE OFFICIALLY SIGNED UP FOR NANOWRIMO. BASK IN MY MADNESS.

It has become something of a tradition for me: sign up for NaNoWriMo. Have something happen. Fail to do a damn thing because of weird events happening.

Except when I didn’t fail.

Of course, there are people who don’t get it—“You’re not getting paid for this, right?” “You don’t really USE that every day, do you?” [in reference to last year’s price, a discount on Scrivener] “What’s the point?” Or the most infuriating of all: “This isn’t anything beyond a hobby. Why are you wasting your time?”

…yeah, have I mentioned I’m no longer dating that guy? OK.

The fact is, this thing is a sprint that helps me to remember what it is that I am doing. I like the competition because it lights a fire under my narrow arse and reminds me of the adage, ABW—Always Be Writing.

So the first bit of preparation has begun—outlining. I actually started this outline a little after the end of last year’s competition, but things have changed since then, and so I need to alter the projected trajectory. Things have steadily gotten darker, and I’ve been watching my voice and style form as I do this project. I’m rather pleased at where it is going.


I should get to sleep. Work won’t wait in the morning, now will it?

This is apparently what happens when I cut back my caffeine consumption.

(Ah, Godot, how well I can relate to your caffeine habit.)

I’m beginning to think that cutting back down on my caffeine consumption was only a good idea on paper. Since I cut down on coffee, I’ve been completely and utterly exhausted. I woke up this morning with just enough energy to spend pulling a 300°F hot iron through the tangled mess that was my hair (straight and a little fluffy now). Then I realized something—I hadn’t taken my pills.

I made a point of taking my pills right away, because these are things that you DON’T want to miss (especially since missing a few doses the other day, I learned that my stomach is STILL reeling from the bug I caught).

I’d say I lasted about 30 minutes post-dosing. When I woke up, it was two-thirty.

As good of an idea as cutting down on my stimulant intake, it seems that it’s been keeping me running for a while, and without enough stimulants in my system, the pills kick my ass.

Let’s see.

  • Inderal for migraines. Causes drowsiness.
  • Imitrex for migraines. Causes drowsiness.
  • Sertraline (Zoloft) for PTSD. Causes drowsiness.
  • Seroquel for PTSD. Causes drowsiness (and if I stay awake after taking it, A LUDICROUS HIGH).
  • Bentyl for the ulcer. May cause dizziness.
  • Prescription-strength Pepcid for the acid excess. No problem there.
  • Vistaril for anxiety induced by PTSD. Causes drowsiness.
  • Antivert for vertigo. Causes drowsiness.

…actually, looking at this, I’m amazed that I’m EVER awake.

The next 100 Things post will be tomorrow. I’m having a hard enough time staying awake right now, and I think I’m going to go back to sleep. It’ll beat falling asleep while I’m trying to cook something.

Prepare for Trouble! —Preparing for the Challenge

And make it double?

Sorry.  The fact that this was a perfect chance to reference Team Rocket just happens to be a coincidence.

I’m getting ready to take on the 100 Things challenge, and as such, I’ve had to do one of those things that I normally balk at:

Making an outline.

*tires screech*

Yeah, yeah, blah blah outlines won’t kill me blah blah.  But I don’t like doing it because it’s, well, work.

*tires screech*

Yes, I know writing is work!  Now stop burning my tires up with your rampant braking!

*lead foot to gas pedal*


The idea: I’m about to start the 100 Things Challenge, in which I plan to blog about 100 of my favorite things.  The structure isn’t—well, I don’t have one to speak of yet.  So what I need to do is come up with a structure of some sort.  I know for certain that the Things won’t be all THINGS, specifically—some are places, some are sensations, and some are situations.  Some of them will be little things, things that seem almost inconsequential in the grand scope of things.  But they’re things that I like, and as we’ve mentioned before, things that I like are going to be a big thing this year, making sure that I make it through the shenanigans that have been going on.

The Process: I haven’t really thought of the process yet.  I’m thinking, create a document in Excel or Word, list the Things that I want to do in a table, and then do them bit by bit, storing the information and drafts first in Scrivener, and then importing them here into my WebStory client for posting.

The Problem:  I’m…REALLY bad at that.

The challenge, therefore, will be more than just me faffing about going on and on about things that I like.  It’ll be an excercise in how to do things the way they’re supposed to be done, with a bit of structure.  In addition, because it’s going to be all about things that I like, there’ll be that little rush of feel-good chemicals that you get when you’re sharing stuff about the things you like.

And the gods only know how much I need that rush of feel-good chemicals right now.

I’d best get to work on that outline/spreadsheet/thing.

Chrysanth WebStory This is WebStory!

NOT Winning!

A win during Script Frenzy—my first Script Frenzy—is not going to happen.

Several things came up in the process of me writing this:

 

  • I wound up getting sick a few times—PTSD is a mother.
  • I went broke again due partially to the PTSD—my job has not been accommodating until recently.  It’s improved vastly since that hellish day.  (But if my supervisor pulls that sort of thing again, I’m suing.  I might still do it.  She could’ve put me back in the hospital.)
  • The—

 *record needle scratches*

…you know what, it’s probably going to be easier to say that PTSD happened and leave it at that.  It’s been getting in the way of most things lately, and it’s difficult to shake.

But even with that phantom hanging around over my shoulder, even without the ability to win this thing (unless I can manage to crank 40 pages in a two-day span), I’m going to finish this script.  The simple fact is, I’ve fallen in love with the story, which is the magic recipe for finishing a draft.  And what’s not to love?  We have vengeance, wrongful death, redemption, and the hope that love can be found even in the afterlife.  I am going to finish it, I am going to polish it, and—gods willing—I am going to pitch it and get it sold.

Even if it winds up being sort of an art house-sort of film.  And even if it winds up being more of a mini-series instead.  One of my favorite writers once said that a script is a blueprint, and most of the shiny-making gets done long after the original writer’s main work is done.  I’ll be keeping that in mind while I finish up.  I’m guessing if I relax and make sure to get a little bit done as close to every day as possible, it’ll get done before the middle of May.

A Rough Ride…

I’m having a harder time than I have in a while.  I’m feeling alternatively ranty and antisocial, stuck between wanting to vent at someone and wanting to just sit in a dark room and think about nothing.  My head’s all turned around and I’m not sure what to do about working in the morning—besides taking a couple valerian pills in my purse and chomping down on them as soon as I feel the ceiling rushing down to meet me.

It was from Chuck Wendig’s blog over at Terribleminds where I learned that no matter how bad shit could get, no matter how fucked up shit gets, no matter how utterly shitfucked shit gets fucked as it were—you gotta keep working through it.

So I’m writing.

And cleaning my apartment compulsively.  (Did I clean the fridge?  Were that many bottles of kefir floating around when I left yesterday?  WHERE IS MY SHIRT?)

I ought to be asleep right now, but there’s a security alarm blaring.  A quick test of the air around me suggests that someone burned something that used to be either pork chops or steak.  Since there are no clouds floating into my apartment I can assume that there is, in fact, no destruction risk.  Which is good.  But the smell of burning ex-meat is…yeegh.

I scrounged enough money out of the corners of my apartment to justify trying a supplement for my panic attacks—very important, since my therapist won’t give me anything stronger than what I’m already on for them.  I personally thought that my case was made when the dick of a receiving nurse triggered me on accident—accidental—proceeded to make it worse—after I literally begged her not to do the thing with her hands that she was doing—and then positively shouted at me to sit down.

I felt like the smaller kid who gets blamed for the mishaps at home.

But even through all of that, I’m still writing.  I’m only six pages behind on Script Frenzy now (I’m not positive how I managed that!  Did I get a bunch of writing done and then brainzap on it?) and—most surprising to me—the apartment’s actually clean.  Not clean as in “Well, I won’t break my neck now,” but real clean.  I feel a sense of accomplishment over that.  The place hasn’t been this clean since I got binned.

 

The alarm’s still going, so I’ll just get ready for when it shuts off.  I can’t sleep with this racket, but I sure as hell can get ready for it.  I’m having some kefir on ice and crashing out.

Chrysanth WebStory What’s your WebStory today?

Script Frenzy – A Check-in.

In a fit of crazed impulse, I decided to try Script Frenzy.  Script Frenzy, in case you were not aware, is similar to NaNoWriMo in that you have thirty days to produce a zero draft—the difference here being that you must produce a script (ergo, Script Frenzy).  Stuck on enforced sabbatical from work, I figured “Hey, I got nothing else to do, why not try this on for size?”

With that same attitude, I started playing with the plot generator.  Some of them were…odd.  The others were…weirdly plausible if you were trying to make a film where one or more of the main characters were high at some point.  And then there was the one I got that I decided to run with.  So how am I doing here on the twelfth?

  • I’m three pages behind.  Of course this is down from fifteen pages behind, so I think I’m making some progress.
  • My MMC’s said “I don’t” at the altar, and his ex-fiancee isn’t hating him for it—she knows why, since [spoiler spoiler] isn’t his fault.
  • We’ve met the parents, who were first angry and then understood why it wouldn’t have ever worked  no matter how much they (okay, just her father) would have wanted it to.
  • We’ve met the FMC’s angry brother, who is NOT amused at the perceived humiliation of his little sister.
  • What else?  Oh yeah, my MMC protagonist is dead.  Accidental defenestration.  Broke his back on the landing—landed on a motorcycle.  Probably broke a few other things, too.

…what?  The love subplot can’t go on while he’s alive.

He’s also met the angel who’s been assigned to escort him to the other side.  AKA – the love interest.  I anticipate a bit of a hang-up toward the middle of act II, but hey—this is a zero draft, and there’s time to work out the kinks later.  Right now, my focus is on catching up.

Chrysanth WebStory What’s your WebStory today?