Come Down in Time

I finally have a NaNo Cabin–or should I say, “I haz cabin!” in the way of the Internet?  Naw.  I try to write as I speak, which is to say semi-comprehensible.  It’s better in the afternoon, trust me, but I do my best to not come off as a complete idiot when I first wake up.

I was finally placed in a cabin with (1) people who didn’t come off as strange–unlike me–and (2) with a writing friend I know.  The last made me most happy, so I’ve decided not to bail out and throw up a tent and stay there.  I can relax and tell ghost stories and share the bunk with my friend, whispering to her at night how one of the boys keeps staring at her . . . ah, the life of a writer.  Coming up with BS all the time.

One of the things I have completed are the names and ages of the instructors of my school.  I had stuff in a ball park area before I sat down the other night and began adjusting ages, and in doing so I came up with a few surprises.  There are a couple of instructors who are simply damn young–as in, “Damn!  They’re young!” when you finally calculate their age in the current story.  But, hey, if you’re good, who cares about your age?  The people at my school shouldn’t.

Speaking of the school . . . I’ve nearly finished the second floorGreat Hall 627 of this gigantic main hall, and I have an excellent idea of how the third and fourth floors will look.  As you can see, library to the right, security to the top, administration and offices to the bottom, old classrooms to the left; it’s all taking shape.  I’ll throw up walls and doors and railings, then get to work on the next two floors, which won’t take up a lot of space, and she’ll be finished.

As I told someone last night, the Hall is no longer a mysterious place to me.  Even though I created it, I didn’t know it.  I had an idea where things were, but not how they should look.  I also realize that there is a hell of a lot of building that isn’t used, that is full of empty rooms because it’s not being used for teaching any more.  This leaves room for–adventure?  Finding something strange?  Coming across a DeLorean with the keys in it?  There’s a few storage areas, so that last may be possible–though I wouldn’t hold my breath.

The last revelation fell into place last night, though, while chatting with my friend.  If I do bring this story in at twenty-five thousand words, as I’d like, then this novella would become the opening of the novel I’ll write in November for NaNoWriMo.  If that novel should run seventy-five to ninety thousand words, then I have something that is not only a stand-alone tale, but that has its own built-in prologue that introduces characters, backgrounds, and the world.  There’s little need for a lot of setup, because the novella is the set up.

Yes, I am satisfied.  Yes, I am patting myself on the back.

Yes, I hope I’m not about to drive myself crazy with this stuff.