Skip to main content

NaNo Novel 2008 --- Club Haunt --- a different style, a different approach, but a better novel??

Introducing:
Digby Wilkins
Jeremiah Bickles (known only as Bickles)
Granville Isaacson

Club Haunt Credo: Scientific Investigation of all things Paranormal

This year's NaNo Novel wound up being something entirely different than I set out to do. Originally, I had planned a sequel to last year's novel 'Lost in the In-Between', but when it came time to start this year's NaNo Novel, I found that I wasn't interested in returning to the In-Between...at least not yet. I do have some ideas for Daniel Quinn's further adventures in the In-Between, but this year was not to be the year to write them.

Before NaNoWriMo 2008, I already had the names of my characters and the club's credo, but until the month-long frenzy began, I had no idea what was going to happen in the story. I had no plot, no general outline, not even a not-so-general outline. All I had were three names and a short insert about how the three names came to be on the same club's roster.

Nothing. That's what I started with. This year's project was a complete reversal from last year's beginnings. I had no outline and wrote everything in the last week and a half, where as last year, I had a 20 page outline and wrote everything in the first week and a half. Funny how it all worked out.

Even more funny, I don't think either way produced a better first draft manuscript. They were both fed by adrenaline mania. The only real difference is the first year's mania wasn't being driven by a fear of not being able to finish in the last 6 hrs of writing time allowed. The final release and flood of relief that came with finishing this year was disappointingly absent in last year's almost obstacle-free endeavor. The tears of exhaustion and joy that I shed were welcome and I am proud of them.

So, though a totally radical approach to what I am used to and maybe a marginally better written novel on a fundamental level garnered from experience and practice over the last year, I would be tempted to admit that yes, a better novel. At least a freer novel. There was no time to second guess what I was typing, I didn't even have time to first guess what I was thinking, it all poured directly from my brain to my fingers. But, it wasn't an approach that I would recommend for the faint of heart or those prone to carpel tunnel flare-ups, hell, I'm not even sure that I could survive it again. Yet, I am ecstatic to be able to say that I have survived it at least once!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A to Z reflections....

Another A to Z challenge comes to an end--- another collection of posts and poetry have been written, another deep breath of relief is released. For my fellow bloggers that survived as well, it's another 'challenge-completed' notch carved into the writing desk. I've come to enjoy my yearly foray into the world of all things alphabetical. This was my third year, though it was only the second year I had a workable theme (which made the challenge substantially easier than the first year I attempted this challenge.) And, though my first year was difficult because my focus was so scattered, I found this year was more  difficult because I lost the enthusiasm that came with the first year excitement----excitement which helped me plug along until the end of the challenge. Year 3 was a success in the sense that I completed the challenge, though, this was the year that almost wasn't---- Somewhere about a third of the way through the challenge, I seriously considered

A million lives, beneath a single sky.....

Though our feet leave different prints,our tongues sound different words, there's a mirrored rhythm in the beating of our hearts. Though born in different worlds, our eyes sharpened 'neath different moons, there's an unspoken truth in the warmth of our touch. We may walk in different strides and dream different dreams, we may speak in different voices, maybe swim in different streams. It's plain to see, when dark night falls, as all the stars shine through, that underneath it all, there's no difference 'tween me and you.

Bitter Honey

Weaving dreams of beguiling gold, a future's price for happiness. What secrets do you, determined, hold? asks the summer wind's soft caress. A guarded name, a hidden hope. Spinning wheels clutching time, grasping straw that falls away, What dreams may come, we soon may find, won't recall at end of day. A cherished life, a memory lost.