Cape Ann Rains

We got some dead beats in our Camp NaNo cabin.  No, really:  out of eight people, only five of us are writing, and the other three have obviously decided that writing is a whole lot of work–just like gathering wood for the evening’s fire–so they’ve run off to do something like, like swim in the lake or make out in the forest with someone from another cabin.  One can only hope they squat down to pee on some poison ivy and spend the rest of the month with itchy genitals.

While I’m in my cabin with my bunky, I also have another cabin set up where we can sneak off and chat with someone from another cabin, and it’s great fun, mostly because we’re chatting about all the other writers who seem to take great pleasure in talking about what they’re writing, but the actual writing part–not so much.

It’s always sort of like this with any kind of NaNo:  you have those who are busy writing their butts off, getting down the good and bad, and working hard to get their daily word counts . . . and you have others who spend their time asking things like, “What software should I use?” (which gets asked almost two times a day for most of the month), “What do you do when you get a great idea for a novel, but you don’t know where to go after a couple of paragraphs?” (spend a few weeks plotting things out; it works wonders), and lastly, going on about something you’ve been working on for decades, but won’t ever publish because a description of the work sounds like it’s some crazy, stream-of-consciousness, fan fiction that is constantly being updated and edited because of changes happening in the world right now.

Fiction:  I do not think Day Fit means what you think it means.

Anyway . . . the first part of my Camp Novel (not to be confused with “camp followers”) is finished, with the word count jumping up just over nine thousand words.  I knew this was happening, and after finishing my writing for the day I went out and bumped my goal to thirty thousand words, because I’m likely going there, and it’s a cheap shot to say I’ll shoot for twenty-five thousand and blow past that in a week.

Nine thousand words of set up, getting ready for what I call The Darkening Calm.  What is that?  More setup, really, but it’s working towards the feeling that things in my school are not nice, that the intuition of some instructors is correct, and something bad is going to happen soon.

When?  Well, I have four sections to this story–you figure it out.

Though yesterday felt like a grind at times–after all it was the 4th of July, or as I like to call it, “Turning Drunks with Fireworks Loose”–I was in a chapter I wanted to finish.  I wanted to finish it because I wanted to say what needed to be said.  I kept changing things as I went along because I need it to be right.  Even though I was flipping back and forth between Google Maps and Scrivener because part of the scene took place inside a moving car, and I was naming real streets in a real city, I didn’t want to stop.

I finished with almost three thousand words written for the day, and it’s been a while since I’ve done that.

Going back to school seemed to have done me some good.