Oh, did yesterday turn into the greatest of days–or strangest, if you like your literary feelings that way.
Lots of writing yesterday, nearly all of it taking place in Chapter Two. It seems to take forever to get out, probably because I haven’t utilized my writing muscles in some time. Editing–oh, yeah. I’ve been an editing fool. I’ve been look at what’s come, and thought about what must be, and turned that into what is. But cranking out the unseen from my mind? Not so much. Not since I finished Diners at the Memory’s End. Yes, I had a couple of slammer works in there, but that was almost a . . . I don’t know. Maybe you could call them a bit of a warm up on the jogging track.
Now I’m in the race, and it was making my head hurt.
I was writing about the scene of a death, and why old friends who haven’t seen each other in a couple of years are suddenly together, at the scene of a death, in a city that neither would have expected to find the other. I had to bring up names and streets, talk of locals that really do exist, but whose names I’m not used to saying, much less write.
This is probably why my head was hurting, because my mind was getting its workout. Or maybe it was my mind’s way of saying, “You shouldn’t be doing this. You should be off doing something else, but you should try leaving the writing to professionals.”
So where am I after all this? According to my NaNo Stats Page, I’m and 6,517 words. That’s because I stopped writing at some point about 8 PM, and told people I wouldn’t write more that evening–then, about 10 PM, I started working on Chapter Three, because . . . space? Or would that be . . . airport? Which is where Chapter Three takes place, by the way. At the Sultan Hasanuddin International Airport, actually, because my research told me so.
The head hurting things probably came about because of all the flipping about I had to do. Write in Scrivener, flip to a map, look at a time line, write, get a name, write, check this . . . yeah, I’m stumbling into the first part of the story, where I’m getting everything set up. It’s been necessary for me to kill off two people already–something I’ve not done a great deal, though if I think about it, there were a lot of deaths in the last story with these two characters–and that means trying to get my set up down right.
It’s work. It’s a lot of work. It’s still fun, in a way, when I’m not dealing in death, and my head is hurting, but it’s still fun.
No one will die today, or so I think. It’s mostly begging and getting facts straight, and a few other things. In fact, I’m wondering if a chapter I have set up is even going to be necessary. Oh, wait: I know what I’ll use it for. That’s called thinking on your feet, though at the moment I’m sitting on the floor at the local Y, listening to Caribou, by Elton John. No on your feet for this girl.
I got words to pen.