Wednesday, October 26, 2011

November won't be quiet

November has usually meant a silent blog for me due to NaNoWriMo taking over my life, but not this year. No sir. My host of discarded characters have decreed that they'll not sit quietly and be ignored.

Frankly, they've been rather secretive lately. I don't trust them to sit quietly and I certainly don't dare ignore them.

In hopes of flushing out what's going on behind the paper piles, I've devised a project that will keep them busy and, in theory, allow me the chance to flush out a few clues as to what their up to. Wish me luck.

Stay tuned for Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews. Coming Nov 1.

Friday, October 21, 2011

Victims of the Knife: Grief and Zombies

Ms. Wildstar looks around cautiously. "Did you hear that huge whoop last night?"

Nekar nods. "I think it's safe to say she finished the rewrite."

"That means we're not going back in, are we." She sits down on a stack of paper and rests her chin on her hands. "We're stuck here while Xander is off having fun."

Nekar pats her shoulder. "Don't worry. I hear she might be working in the sequel during NaNo. There's still hope for us. Besides, you wouldn't like Xander now. He's older and only has a few speaking lines. He's not even the same man...err...boy."

"She rewrote him? My Xander?" Tears roll down Ms. Wildstar's cheeks. "I'll never see him again. We had so much fun together--searching for discarded technology, feasting on fantasy "food", acting out that cut scene where Ms. MC got to dress up and then she and Mr. MC when to that fancy party and then they-"

"I think we both know what happens next and I really don't need to hear the details. You're half my age for goodness sake. You know how long its been since I got to be in a scene like that? Four drafts ago. At least. You do not want to get me aroused."

Ms. Wildstar sniffs. "You really think there's hope we might get into the sequel?"

"Uhh, no. Not a chance." Nekar laughs.

"But you said there was hope."

"I was lying. I do that. But we might end up with some new friends."

"Wait, did you say NaNo was coming?"

"Yes, but if she does go with the sequel, I doubt we'll end up with NaNo zombies this year."

"But if she doesn't..." Ignoring the threat of paper cuts, Ms. Wildstar grasps the edge of her seat in white-knuckled terror.

"We'll need weapons." They run off toward the tower of precariously balanced paper wads as if the zombies are already at their heels.

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

The weasels have arrived

As NaNoWriMo season approaches Rippy McWeasel, our region's mascot, and I have been busy screening weasel recruits. These wily little creatures must have what it takes to become rabid cyborg attack weasels, hellbent on keeping writers in line during the November writing frenzy. It's not an easy task to keep a distracted writer on task. So many gadgets, and that darn internet and "just one more thing before I open up my WIP file". Shiny chickens, jobs, obligations, families, all those things that get in the way of writing time. Well, these weasels will have none of that. They must be heartless, able to withstand sobbing and ranting, pleading, rationalizations, deals one made with ones self, and downright bribery.

It's not every weasel that is prepared to become one of Rippy's elite rabid cyborg attack weasels. No sir. It takes years of training. That's why most weasels must take on cyborg parts to keep going after their natural lifespans would have taken them out of action. Yesterday, this first batch, stood on their stubby little feet for hours while Rippy instructed them in the ways of keeping writers in their seats.

To begin their field training, these weasels will be sent out into writer's homes this November. They will experience a NaNo and all that can distract a writer from writing 50k in thirty days. And in December, they will have either proven themselves worthy or slunk off into the shadows to live in shame.

So if you're contemplating NaNo this year, sit down and write your 50k. You wouldn't want to condemn one of these little creatures to failure, would you?