Lady What’s Tomorrow

The tent with the fire over on the Camp NaNo page says there are two days and fifteen hours left before the mid-summer insanity begins.  Said insanity being writing, but why should July be any different for me?  I’m always doing that, though this latest stretch of three weeks without actually writing anything new is one of the longest I’ve gone in a while.

As for my own story, the first two floors of my Great Hall are complete.  It’s a thing of beauty, with it’s old class rooms and dorms and storage areas, the library and its archives, the private rooms and collection areas–and the bathrooms.  At this moment it’s a real place for me, not just something I dreamed up.  I still have a third and a fourth floor to add, but they won’t take up much space.  I may get those in place today, or maybe tomorrow.  But I will get them.

Though now, with the rendering required to produce the 3D version of my structure, my poor computer is working overtime to give me something I can’t view as well as before.  But no matter:  I’m able to get it built, and I can always shut down a lot of other things in order to see what I’m creating.

The thing that has happened as I build the structure is that I’m also building history.  There are a great many empty rooms in this building:  the majority of the first floor is sealed off, the doors locked and the rooms dusty.  Why is this?  Why have such a huge, unused building in the middle of this school?

There is a history building in my head.  It’s been there for a while; in fact, I know how the school started, and who laid the foundation.  I’ve known a little of the early history of the building, and now that I’m seeing it appear, brick by virtual brick, the history is becoming far more clear.

As with the characters, the buildings have their history.  They have a presence, and it helps to actually bring it out and write it down.  Which is what I’ll do, either today or tomorrow.  Since I already have a timeline started for my characters, why not add the school to that document as well?  Then when I need to see when a particular event occurred, and who may have had a hand in it, then I know where to go.

I’ll also write it down inside my Scrivener project, so it’ll be there as well when writing time comes.

All this work has made me happy.  No, really, it has.  It’s freeing to allow your mind to break loose and find things that have been hidden, or even repressed, for a while, and to get them out and make them real.  Even if there are things I never use in any of the stories that would revolve around this school, I know their story, and they have become a part of me forever.

It’s only a matter of time before I pass this feeling to others.

Timing out of Mind

Last night wasn’t bad.  It was a bit tiring, but not bad.  I saw the story expand, but I was just a touch short of the nightly goal, only hitting about nine hundred words before saying the hell with it and heading off tot bed.  The mind wanted to work, but I was getting hung up on something, and I couldn’t seem to get the words out that I needed.  Not so much writer’s block as it was my brain saying, “You know you’re going to screw this up if you try to write it now, right?”  Right.  So I was happy with what I’d put down, and slinked off to bed.

Today will be one of those busy days where I’m doing a bit of running around, but I’m not actually getting anything done–at least none of the stuff I want to do.  I have writing to do, but I’m going to have to fit my thousand in wherever I can find it, ’cause I don’t think I’ll have many opportunities to write today.  Which is a shame, because my mind has been nagging at me since before I work up.

I was having a lot of strange dreams, one of which seemed to do with trying to pick someone to take over an open superhuman opening, hanging with Brad Pitt, and telling someone who I worked with that their manager was a ninja doucherocket, and had been ever since I’d worked with them at my last job.  Then I woke up, and The Muse was there, bugging me.  (Should note, my Muse is not the same as the muse I’m writing about.  The muse in my story is a real goddess; I’m the only one who thinks my Muse is a goddess.)  What was she bugging me about?

Time.

No, not the sort of time we all waste like crazy, but time like one would encounter if you were time traveling.  There’s a simple explanation for this.  During the week I was sick.  Monday I was out of it, but Tuesday I was so down that I had to stay home and crash and burn.  But since last Sunday, when I started coming down with this (now, I hope) dissipated cold, my mind has worked.  What else is it going to do?  I’d love to be able to shut it off, but I can’t.

So, in that time, I came up with two stories revolving around my Transporting series, which I’ve yet to public, but will.  It seems like a strange thing to come up with more stories for that series, because I’ve already written four novels and one novella for it, and I have–wait, let me bring up the document . . . eighteen more stories to write.  Two more would bring it to a very neat, round twenty stories, and it’s not like I have a lot to write already, but, really, do I need more?

To show you how caught up I am in this stuff, I pulled up the timeline I have for the stories–because they cover a lot of time–and realized I didn’t have the reign of one character down in my time line.  So there I go, having to fix things.  Now I have the character accounted for, I have my timeline fixed–

Save for these two stories the Muse is bugging the hell out of me over.

Since I have time to kill before I get out to do other things, I know I can add those stories to my time line, and get my descriptions down, indicate when they’re going to happen . . . yeah, I keep track of all the stuff.  Because I think I can actually get all this stuff written in the next twenty years.

I probably can–

If I get to work.

When No Dream Has Gone Before

The countdown tells me it’s 4 days, 16 hours, and 24 minutes until the NaNo begins.  I’m ready, if for no other reason than I’ve got everything ready to go, and all that remains if the writing.  All the writing, all the time.  Well, not all the time; I’m not that crazy.  I know there are people who say they did one hundred thousand words in like three days, which is something Philip K. Dick couldn’t do, so I have to figure that those manuscripts are an insane jumble of scribbling that would drive Cthulhu insane, or it consists of line after line of, “All NaNo and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”

In other words, crap.  But that’s just me talking.

I find myself, then, doing a lot of thinking.  Most of the time I’ve thought about another set of stories, and my fingers are itching to draw up . . . here it comes . . . a timeline.  Yes, I know, I love those suckers.  I just can’t help myself; it must be the Gallifreyan in me.  I’ve actually thought that putting together a visual time line of one of my stories would be interesting, since it takes place in about five different time periods.  Watching how the story bops all over the place could point out flaws in my narrative–or simply prove how good I am at getting my facts in line with my make-believe reality.

I could have a project for later today.  We’ll see.

The dream last night . . . oh, geez.  This is where the title of the post comes from, since it was some craziness that had to do with me investigating a Starfleet crew that had vanished from a Norway class ship, and I needed to interview the only survivor.  For some reason a salient point of the investigation involved an inflatable bed, and in the end, I’d figured out that the only person left had eaten the entire crew.  The dude must have been hungry.

And what did I get for my hard work?  A Saber class ship, and an inflatable bed.  I’m so lucky.  At least I ended up Queen Shit of my own little warp speed mountain.

I think the dream had something to do with an idea I was playing with the other day, since I was thinking about doing an article for another website, and I was thinking of doing something on Star Trek, because–why not?  It keeps the mind going, and the fingers busy.  If nothing else, it gives me a change to vent, or better yet, point out something that others may have missed.  Wait, I’m talking about Star Trek:  tons of geeks have had the same thoughts.  Ah, still wouldn’t hurt to write . . .

This is the point I’m in at the moment.  I’m not writing, but I should.  However, due to NaNo, I’m not about to start on something, then abandon it in mid work because I have to work on a novel.  Oh, sure, I could do as some do, finish up one work, then start on another and count all the words towards my fifty thousand, but that’s not writing a novel to me.  That feels like cheating.  But, all’s fair in love and writing, and if some people want to work it that way, it’s their business.

I shall forge my own path, no?

In the meantime, I’m seeing time lines, and they do look so nice to me.

If I’m not back by nine tonight, don’t bother looking for me, ’cause I’m off having fun.