Nanowrimo begins!

Well, it’s day 4 of Nanowrimo and so far I’ve written every day – though I’ll admit that my initially impressive word count has begun to slip a little bit. My first drafts are relatively lazy and impatient creatures. I think this is because I’m working from an outline and because I am a lazy and impatient creature. The transitions are inelegant and the voice is uncertain, but I’m eagerly moving from one scene to the next, no time to stop and take care of things like rambling dialogue or description or any of that. But I think that shows I have some momentum moving me forward. All of the other details are things I usually fill in during revision.

I’m really enjoying the excitement of writing a brand new draft of a brand new thing. It’s making me think about other projects that I’ve let languish, untouched, for months – I wonder if I could turn this same bang-it-out-fast approach to them, and then have something to work with, to revise? This thought (along with having a Gogol Bordello song in my head) kept me wide awake last night. My enthusiasm for this whole first draft business will wane in a week or so, but at the moment it is invigorating.

So – how are my fellow Nanowrimo-ers out there fairing thus far?

Oh, deer

Today Tom and I took a walk around an old cemetary. I know, that sounds sort of macabre and creepy, but we live near busy streets (not conducive to walking) with no real “parks” within walking distance. A lot of those old graves don’t get visitors anymore, so we’re happy to oblige. We walk around and take note of the stones, remarking on interesting names: “Guiseppe…Sabina…Tukis…” [Best name I ever saw was in an old cemetary on Martha's Vineyard: Lucretia Storm.]

So we’re wandering and then Tom exclaims: “deer!” Maybe I would have considered this a term of endearment if not for the fawn springing among the stones across from us. Like this little lady, only we did not get quite this close:

She stood behind some gravestones looking around, turning her head and shifting those big ears like satellite dishes. While I would never presume to know a deer’s mind, I would guess something like this: “what’s-what’s this? what’s-oh-oh what’s that? and that and oh-oh this!” After a few seconds of this she looked right at us. We were standing very still, of course. Maybe she mistook us for some marble statuary, because she started leaping directly toward us, only to suddenly divert her path maybe ten feet away.

She was breathtakingly beautiful. I know that’s a cliche and all, but to see this speckled little creature, with her big ears and fluffy white tail leap out of the trees is a bit startling if you don’t see such a thing every day. As much as I loved looking at her, the proximity of the busy street made us nervous, and we started murmuring “go back, go back”. Luckily she decided to do just that. She turned and sprang back – not simply running, more springing and leaping and fairly flying – and disappeared into the trees at the back of the cemetary. Phew.

Characters, all of you, everywhere

Truth is stranger than fiction. I know this for a fact, because I ride the subway every day. While I delight in the crazy characters imagined by the great brains of Jack Gantos or Daniel Pinkwater I often wonder, how do they come up with this stuff? But then I look up from my book only to be astounded by the interesting details being played out on the human stage. Some of my recent favorites? That guy in the coffee shop with the beautifully worn old brown leather journal, the ivory pages covered in the most spidery gorgeous (not to mention illegible) handwriting in black ink; a perfect match to his worn copy of Kierkegard. Then there is the old guy with the steel grey bouffant hairdo and pencil mustache that I see sometimes on the green line – I do not exaggerate here, because this man requires none. There are also gold chains involved and (though I may be thinking of someone else on the green line now) a busty mermaid tattooed on his hairy man arm. Vivid, yes? Or the young woman on the train wearing a worn, long white dress – shades of Miss Havisham.

That said, I know all too well that these superficial details do not a character make. I read an interview with author Mort Castle (whose books I have yet to read, I admit). I got the opportunity to submit a question, so I asked what he thought was integral to good horror fiction (though this could work for any fiction). I love his answer: “Human beings for whom we give a damn.” Well said. The details themselves – the philosophy, the journal, the tattoos, the gown – these are enticing, but there needs to be something beneath that. Something real.

And now…more blog reviews! I can’t tell you how it thrills me to read these:
http://juiciliciousssreviews.blogspot.com/2009/06/kings-rose-review.html
http://bookworminginthe21stcentury.blogspot.com/2009/06/kings-rose.html

Celebrate the YA Book Carnival with this CONTEST to win a signed copy of The King’s Rose!
http://shootingstarsmag.blogspot.com/2009/06/ya-carnival-contest-kings-rose.html

hobbits…my kind of people

First off, reviews!

Tanzanite’s Shelf and Stuff (this blog is historical fiction heaven): http://shelfandstuff.blogspot.com/2009/06/kings-rose-by-alisa-libby.html

And a great review on Insert Book Title Here: http://insertbooktitle.blogspot.com/2009/06/kings-rose-by-alisa-libby.html

In other news, I’m still working on my reading list, which seems to be expanding by the second. I finished The Hobbit this week. It occurs to me that I have my own hobbit-like tendencies: I always like to know where my next meal is coming from (and that it will be delicious) and the thought of a nice chair by a nice fire and tea at 4 o’clock is…well, I can’t really ask for much more than that. On the other side, I do like to get out of the hobbit-hole on an adventure now and then. Though I still like to know when that next meal will be.

And now, for some dismal news. Our little branch library is closing – hopefully just for the summer, but it all seems very unclear. Don’t get me wrong, the main branch is positively lovely and I have nothing against it whatsoever, it’s just that…I LOVE OUR BRANCH LIBRARY. When we first drove up to our house and I saw that the library was so close, Tom said “this house just got cuter for you, didn’t it?” He was right. Libraries are a wonderful resource for the community. I know that the economy has hit libraries hard, but in an economy like this libraries are even more valuable. So please go and visit your local library this weekend. Take out lots of books. Smile at your librarian. Get thee to it.

writer’s retreat

Writers out there know that there are some really fancy writers retreats out there, where (for a fee) you can take a little vacation at a nice place where all you have to do is write, and all your meals are brought to you. Sort of like camp…but the goal is to get a lot of writing done. For a more low-cost twist, my friends Anne and Anna and I had a writer’s retreat, hosted by Anna at her house. This was my first retreat – a one-day affair. I brought molasses cinnamon cookies, which I had baked the day before instead of writing.

We each brought some ideas for writing prompts, only to find that we really weren’t in the mood for writing prompts. Instead we talked about our projects and what we’re struggling with at the moment, which I found very helpful. Then we ate pizza (fuel is important if you want to get any work done).

Then we actually sat and did some writing, in companiable quiet. I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to concentrate with friends in the room, but I was pleased with the outcome of the day: not just the pages I produced, but with the collegial feeling of the whole experiment. Writing is a lonely business; it was nice to take it out of my office for a change, and hang out in the company of other writers, all of us doing our thing. And it’s fun to think of all the various ideas floating around this table: ghosts, fanatic obsession, baby donkeys…

And every writer’s retreat needs a mascot. Our mascot is the baby bunny that lives near Anna’s house and eats her sunflower buds.