I joined NaNoWriMo because I'm a bandwagon whore. This will undoubtedly be the worst decision I have ever made, except perhaps my decision to use more instances of hyperbole than there are Hydrogen atoms in the universe. The book (if you can call it that) that I'm writing (read: never, ever coming close to finishing) will earn me a special spot in Hell, where demonic surgeons will turn me into a terrible copy of some hideous Rob Liefeld drawing. While singing "I Don't Wanna Miss a Thing."
Anyway, I'm writing my take on the Apocalypse and the Antichrist and whatnot. Real light fare. If you've been paying attention, you'll know my feelings about pedestrian, run-of-the-mill, cliché Antichrist characters, and you'll know how much I dig Christ figures and Monomythic heroes and that sort of thing, so that should give you some idea of what to expect. It'll never be published, it'll probably lose me some friends, and it might just end up being one of the most blasphemous things ever written. You know those comic revamps that are built around "everything you know is wrong" (*cough*Martian Manhunter*cough*)? Yeah, it's kind of like that, but with the Bible.
It sounds like I'm really proud of this, but I'm not. I think I have a cool idea for a story, I just wish it weren't such a heretical idea. Hopefully there'll be a good story in there someplace.
And just to piss everyone off, the protagonist is female, and I'm writing in first person. Somehow, some masochistic part of me decided I actually possess that kind of audacity.
At this point, I call it Considering Lily. I'm sure I'll call it other names as the deadline approaches. Good thing it's an easy semester!
Someone, please, for the love of all that is holy, talk me out of this. I just know I'm going to lose what little respect and dignity I have left.
Yeah, I did that entirely blasphemous thing once. I started writing a tragicomic, Vonnegut-esque novel called The Last Trump about this guy who wakes up one day from a nap to find that the world's ended, that the last trump has sounded, and everyone but him has gone to either heaven or hell. But God forgot about him and, er, he got left behind. It wasn't a huge hit with those who read my drafts and I realized I should probably just sit on it - 'cause publishing it would be more trouble to my life than it would be worth. So good luck to you!
That's not exactly the sort of "talking me out of it" I had in mind...
Sounds like a neat idea...I'm not sure where the plot could go once the guy realizes he's the last person left, though.
Which is farther, I think, than I've gotten on some of my plots.
Yay! We can be writing buddies! :-)
As a committed Roman Catholic (no joke!) I say go for it!
I tried that NaNoWriMo thing last year. Life got in the way after about two or three days.
I may be in the mood for it this year as I really should be looking for a job but can use the seething hatred I have for my current job as a catalyst for biting satire.
Yeah, I realized that I needed more than just the main character ruminating about how lame life was without new movies, so it turned into a sort of cosmic whodunnit where we discover that somebody blew the last trump without permission and started the whole thing off on the wrong foot. Our hero runs into a number of other-than-human characters that helped add colour to the proceedings. But unlike a JMS book, he doesn't fallen in love with anyone outside his own species.
Does talking you out of it include saying:
If you do NaNoWriMo there's less time for porn?
Cause if it does, then I put forth my argument.
There's also anxiety when people ask you every day how many words you have. And possible homocidal mania when you just want them to shut up, because you had a good idea a second ago before they asked you if what you were typing was for NaNo - when you're knee deep in the world's best blog entry -ever-.
Sadly, porn hasn't been a motivating factor in my life since High School.
And I don't know if it's the NaNoWriMo or an influx of free time or inspiration or what, but my blogging frequency has increased by leaps and bounds recently. I'm enjoying my writing again, and hopefully that continues unabated. I may actually finish this thing.
I'm beginning to doubt the efficacy of the "talk Tom out of it" plan.
Verification Word: whnobhph, which I think is the sound Ambush Bug makes when he trips and falls in a mud puddle.
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