Too Low for Zero

With only today and tomorrow remaining before Camp is brought to order, there remain only a few things to do before I stay up until midnight and whip off a few hundred words to start the Madness on Monday.  I’m in a cabin with a friend, and she commented about how quiet the other people seemed.  Yep, par for the course, I believe.  They have their fifty thousand goal, they’re doing something–and that may be all.

I’ve observed this with NaNoWriMo.  During the month of October you have so many people who are pumped up and ready to roll, talking about what they’re going to write, then about a week into the venture there is a massive silence, as if a thousand budding writers suddenly realized just want it means to pen a couple of thousand words a day, and to do it for thirty days straight.  Many make it:  many more are left in the dust of their dreams.

And for a few, they NaNo Rainbow Dash Naprealize that it’s more of a social experiment, as in, “I’m going to spend all my time being sociable and talking about writing, and begging people to sprint with me . . .”  Yeah, more than a few of those people out there, and I’ll at least say I haven’t seen too many of them out there this month.  Probably because Camp NaNo is a bit more laid back, and there seems to be less preparing that normally happens, so that mean fewer social butterflies out and about the forums and groups.

For me, my main building is pretty much finished.  I started the third floor of my Great Hall yesterday, and there’s not a lot to it, save for setting up rooms and throwing in doorways.  Since most of those spaces won’t need a name for a few months, I don’t have to worry about them now, I just know they’re there.  In time they will become real places:  for now they are but spaces on a layout.

Hey, just wait until I start laying out the basement on this sucker.  That’s coming up next–I think.

That’s the thing with this project:  there is so much I can do, so much that can be done, that I could probably spend the rest of the year laying out this world.  I have to set up a series of tunnels for the school, because some of the locations for classes are way far apart, and given their location in New England, that means a lot of snow for many months out of the year.  Will I have my students walking from place to place?  Yes.  Will they do that when they’re knee deep in snow?  No.  Hence the tunnels.

I have to draw them up, however.  Then I have to imagine them linking into the basements under each building, or just coming up into the buildings themselves, because not every place is going to have, or need, a basement.  My Astro-Sciences building is one such place, because it’s sitting in a pedestal, and there’s no need for a basement.

Maybe I should just write.  It seems it would be so much easier to take off and worry about my worlds later.