As I watch my discarded characters--I’d call them darlings, but they’ve ticked me of this month—dismantle their ream wall and reshape all those paperclips, I can only shake my head. Well, that’s not entirely true, I could laugh at the Barthromians that Chuck is making clean up all the camel crap with teaspoons on their hands and knees.
There’s hope for that man yet.
This is what happens when you let characters run amuck with a plot. They make a mess. Sometimes it’s good to see where they will go, how they will grow and the twists that you hadn’t planned on, but there is a limit to the chaos you should let them make. Even in a rough draft. Unless you want that draft covered in crap, keep them somewhat on track.
Since all my characters are busy, I’ll have Scorpius ask the question of the day…or at least put on of the tiny flyers in his hands and pretend.
What was the one thing in which I indulged to keep myself writing?
Bad dialogue. I could say drinking or chocolate, both of which are somewhat true, but no, mostly bad dialogue. When a scene stopped moving, I let someone speak their mind and the sparks started flying. While this is good, it usually resulted in a lot of responses like, “Good” “Fine” “No” from the character being ranted at with an occasional comment to egg the other character on. There will be some definite clean up involved but no, I won’t be doing it with a spoon.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Monday, November 28, 2011
Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 28
The boys who don’t get blown up run toward me. “We’d love to give you something. Please tell us, what would you like? What’s the one thing you’ve been depriving yourself all November?”
“Umm. Nothing? I can write my 1,667 words in an hour and half. It doesn’t take that much time out of my day. In fact, I’m usually writing around that long every day anyway, just not as productively.”
“How about a DVR full of tv shows?” asks one.
“Or a whole day to surf the internet?” asks the other.
“No, I’ve been keeping up with everything pretty well. Now, tell me, what’s behind that wall you’ve built?”
They run back to the wall, waving their hands over their heads and screaming.
The wookie noise sounds again. And again.
I step on a bent open paperclip. The stupid thing pokes into my sock and I stumble into the paper wall. Reams of paper slide off the stacks, falling behind the wall with loud thuds.
Characters go running in all directions.
Bulky-short-haired-hot-tempered-violet-ex-partner-who-sold-out-Ms-MC-and-caused-her-serious-emotional-harm-before-she-hunted-him-down-and-killed-him has two long ropes with…
I do a double take. “Are those camels? Where the hell did you get camels?”
Bulky-short-haired-hot-tempered-violet-ex-partner-who-sold-out-Ms-MC-and-caused-her-serious-emotional-harm-before-she-hunted-him-down-and-killed-him leads the shambling and wookie noise making camels toward me. Two Barthromian soldiers leap onto their backs. One falls off. The other scrambles his way onto the back of the camel and hits the camel on the side of the neck. Two huge guns pop out of the sides of the camel’s hump.
“Whoa. Cyborg camels?”
Bulky-short-haired-hot-tempered-violet-ex-partner-who-sold-out-Ms-MC-and-caused-her-serious-emotional-harm-before-she-hunted-him-down-and-killed-him stands proudly before the camels with the ropes in hand. “Gun-toting camels. You may remember writing them in a couple blog posts.”
“I do remember that, yes.”
“But you never used them in a novel. Therefore they are a discarded idea. They ended up here.”
“I’m pretty sure I’d have noticed them around. Not to mention, I never wrote them into a novel, so they don’t technically count.”
“You can argue blog vs. novel theory with me all day, but we have demands and if they’re not met, you’ll be sorry.”
The second Barthromian soldier finally makes his way onto his camel and produces a second set of guns.
“What are you going to do, shoot me?”
Ms. Wildstar emerges from behind the paper wall and stands by his side. She looks me in the eye. “If you don’t write us back into the sequel, yes. We all came from that novel universe. You can work us in. You can send us back. And you will do it.”
“Hmm. Let me think about this.” I tap my chin. “No.” I point at the gun-toting camels and they disappear. The Barthromian soldiers fall to the floor. “I may let you silly and willful characters run amuck around here and sometimes in my novels as well, but thisis my world and ultimately, I say what goes. So no. No more threats. No gun-toting camels. And no getting written back in.”
I put my hands on my hips and glare down at them all. “You will all go pick up the mess you made out there and go about your business peacefully until I write otherwise.”
Bulky-short-haired-hot-tempered-violet-ex-partner-who-sold-out-Ms-MC-and-caused-her-serious-emotional-harm-before-she-hunted-him-down-and-killed-him glares right back at me. “And if we don’t?”
I smile down on him. “You end up with the camels. Deleted.”
“Umm. Nothing? I can write my 1,667 words in an hour and half. It doesn’t take that much time out of my day. In fact, I’m usually writing around that long every day anyway, just not as productively.”
“How about a DVR full of tv shows?” asks one.
“Or a whole day to surf the internet?” asks the other.
“No, I’ve been keeping up with everything pretty well. Now, tell me, what’s behind that wall you’ve built?”
They run back to the wall, waving their hands over their heads and screaming.
The wookie noise sounds again. And again.
I step on a bent open paperclip. The stupid thing pokes into my sock and I stumble into the paper wall. Reams of paper slide off the stacks, falling behind the wall with loud thuds.
Characters go running in all directions.
Bulky-short-haired-hot-tempered-violet-ex-partner-who-sold-out-Ms-MC-and-caused-her-serious-emotional-harm-before-she-hunted-him-down-and-killed-him has two long ropes with…
I do a double take. “Are those camels? Where the hell did you get camels?”
Bulky-short-haired-hot-tempered-violet-ex-partner-who-sold-out-Ms-MC-and-caused-her-serious-emotional-harm-before-she-hunted-him-down-and-killed-him leads the shambling and wookie noise making camels toward me. Two Barthromian soldiers leap onto their backs. One falls off. The other scrambles his way onto the back of the camel and hits the camel on the side of the neck. Two huge guns pop out of the sides of the camel’s hump.
“Whoa. Cyborg camels?”
Bulky-short-haired-hot-tempered-violet-ex-partner-who-sold-out-Ms-MC-and-caused-her-serious-emotional-harm-before-she-hunted-him-down-and-killed-him stands proudly before the camels with the ropes in hand. “Gun-toting camels. You may remember writing them in a couple blog posts.”
“I do remember that, yes.”
“But you never used them in a novel. Therefore they are a discarded idea. They ended up here.”
“I’m pretty sure I’d have noticed them around. Not to mention, I never wrote them into a novel, so they don’t technically count.”
“You can argue blog vs. novel theory with me all day, but we have demands and if they’re not met, you’ll be sorry.”
The second Barthromian soldier finally makes his way onto his camel and produces a second set of guns.
“What are you going to do, shoot me?”
Ms. Wildstar emerges from behind the paper wall and stands by his side. She looks me in the eye. “If you don’t write us back into the sequel, yes. We all came from that novel universe. You can work us in. You can send us back. And you will do it.”
“Hmm. Let me think about this.” I tap my chin. “No.” I point at the gun-toting camels and they disappear. The Barthromian soldiers fall to the floor. “I may let you silly and willful characters run amuck around here and sometimes in my novels as well, but thisis my world and ultimately, I say what goes. So no. No more threats. No gun-toting camels. And no getting written back in.”
I put my hands on my hips and glare down at them all. “You will all go pick up the mess you made out there and go about your business peacefully until I write otherwise.”
Bulky-short-haired-hot-tempered-violet-ex-partner-who-sold-out-Ms-MC-and-caused-her-serious-emotional-harm-before-she-hunted-him-down-and-killed-him glares right back at me. “And if we don’t?”
I smile down on him. “You end up with the camels. Deleted.”
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 27
Nekar runs down the path at me as I approach the far wall. He pants and waves his hands. “What are you doing over here?”
“Coming to see what you guys are up to.” I peer over him. So what are you hiding behind that wall of reams of paper? For that matter, where did you guys get so many reams of paper?”
“You bought them months ago. A whole case and then some. It was a back to school deal with a rebate.”
“And you guys are have stacked them up into what looks like quite the fortified wall over here. Are those paper clips sticking out between the reams?”
He glances over this shoulder. “They might be.”
I take another step.
“Hey, how’s your word count coming along?”
“I’m ahead. I plan on reaching 50k on Tuesday. Taking it a little easy today.”
“Wait, what? You’re ahead? We kind of thought you’d wait until the last day.”
“Well I don’t plan on it.”
“But you procrastinate all the time! You work best under pressure. Don’t you think so? Some of your most interesting twists come from word wars. It’s all about the pressure. Maybe you should go get yourself a nice cup of hot chocolate and relax in front of the tv for a while. Kick back, relax since you’re ahead. You deserve some down time. Go on.”
“Down time is for January. I’ve got things to write and people to see. Get of out my way.”
I get a step further before I’m pelted with adverb cards from all sides. Disturbingly, annoyingly, irately, stubbornly, vivaciously… that one had to be lobbed by Delilah. I wade through the cards. “Onward!”
“Coming to see what you guys are up to.” I peer over him. So what are you hiding behind that wall of reams of paper? For that matter, where did you guys get so many reams of paper?”
“You bought them months ago. A whole case and then some. It was a back to school deal with a rebate.”
“And you guys are have stacked them up into what looks like quite the fortified wall over here. Are those paper clips sticking out between the reams?”
He glances over this shoulder. “They might be.”
I take another step.
“Hey, how’s your word count coming along?”
“I’m ahead. I plan on reaching 50k on Tuesday. Taking it a little easy today.”
“Wait, what? You’re ahead? We kind of thought you’d wait until the last day.”
“Well I don’t plan on it.”
“But you procrastinate all the time! You work best under pressure. Don’t you think so? Some of your most interesting twists come from word wars. It’s all about the pressure. Maybe you should go get yourself a nice cup of hot chocolate and relax in front of the tv for a while. Kick back, relax since you’re ahead. You deserve some down time. Go on.”
“Down time is for January. I’ve got things to write and people to see. Get of out my way.”
I get a step further before I’m pelted with adverb cards from all sides. Disturbingly, annoyingly, irately, stubbornly, vivaciously… that one had to be lobbed by Delilah. I wade through the cards. “Onward!”
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 26
I can’t take Chuck sitting there, staring, waiting, tapping his perfectly rounded and buffed fingernails on the CD stack another minute. Getting up is the only way to find some peace. This means I have to pick my way through the paper-wad paths, making sure to watch out for wayward paperclips, any booby traps set by Nekar or Bulky-short-haired-hot-tempered-violet-ex-partner-who-sold-out-Ms-MC-and-caused-her-serious-emotional-harm-before-she-hunted-him-down-and-killed-him and attempt not to step on anyone.
The thought of a character squishing between my toes makes me reconsider sitting back down and dealing with Chuck. But no, it’s going to be a long while before I find a spot to use Chuck and I need to find out what all these strange noises are.
Chuck runs to the edge of the desk, stopping just before he flies off the edge. “Wait! Where are you going? You promised to write me in!”
“I’ll be back, Chuck. Just going for a walk.”
My walk gets all of three steps before I step on a card. I pick up to return it to an overturned crate. Sharply gives me a paper cut. Stupid adverbs!
“Thanks. I accidently knocked that over.” Delilah yells up to me. She runs around picking up more cards. “Where are you headed?”
“Over there.” I point to the opposite end of the room where all the odd sounds have been coming from.
“Oh.” She glances around. “Umm. Did anyone ask you a question yet today?”
“Not yet.”
“Have you done any research in your NaNo novel preparation?”
“Not exactly. But I did just finish the first book so if you want to call all those months of revising and plot refining research for the sequel, I’ll go with it.”
“Ok. Sure! Can you tell me more?”
“Not much more to tell.”
“There must be. Tell me all about it. Take your time. I’d love to hear every detail.”
I cross my arms and glare down at her. “It almost sounds like you’re trying to buy some time.”
“Oh no, no, not at all.” She flashes me her most charming smile.
“I wrote that smile, dear. It doesn’t work on me. Now move aside before I step on you.”
She dodges out of the way as I set off again.
The thought of a character squishing between my toes makes me reconsider sitting back down and dealing with Chuck. But no, it’s going to be a long while before I find a spot to use Chuck and I need to find out what all these strange noises are.
Chuck runs to the edge of the desk, stopping just before he flies off the edge. “Wait! Where are you going? You promised to write me in!”
“I’ll be back, Chuck. Just going for a walk.”
My walk gets all of three steps before I step on a card. I pick up to return it to an overturned crate. Sharply gives me a paper cut. Stupid adverbs!
“Thanks. I accidently knocked that over.” Delilah yells up to me. She runs around picking up more cards. “Where are you headed?”
“Over there.” I point to the opposite end of the room where all the odd sounds have been coming from.
“Oh.” She glances around. “Umm. Did anyone ask you a question yet today?”
“Not yet.”
“Have you done any research in your NaNo novel preparation?”
“Not exactly. But I did just finish the first book so if you want to call all those months of revising and plot refining research for the sequel, I’ll go with it.”
“Ok. Sure! Can you tell me more?”
“Not much more to tell.”
“There must be. Tell me all about it. Take your time. I’d love to hear every detail.”
I cross my arms and glare down at her. “It almost sounds like you’re trying to buy some time.”
“Oh no, no, not at all.” She flashes me her most charming smile.
“I wrote that smile, dear. It doesn’t work on me. Now move aside before I step on you.”
She dodges out of the way as I set off again.
Friday, November 25, 2011
Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 25
Captain Chuck creeps over to my laptop, glancing over his shoulder with each third step.
“No one is watching you, by the way.”
“I feel like I should sneak though, being a spy and all.”
“Well quit it. You look silly.”
“Okay, fine.” He stands up straight and dusts off his uniform.
“Is that hair on your uniform?”
“Yes, and it’s not mine.” He winks.
“I appreciated your message the other day. I’m assuming this hair is related?”
“Yes.” He winks again.
“Is this going to require me getting out of my chair and traversing the paper wads?”
“I’d recommend it.”
“What are you, a freakin magic 8 ball?”
“Not sure. Ask again later.”
I roll my eyes and shake my head. “I take it you have a question?”
“I do. Since this story has changed so much from the one I was cut from so long ago, I’d like to get to know the characters I’ll be interacting with when you write me back in. What are their names and how did you choose them?”
“Write you back in? Oh yes, I did mention that didn’t I. Hmm. Well, I suppose you should know them then. Ms. MC is Anastassia. Her last name is still subject to change so we’ll leave that out for now. I picked her name because I’ve always had a curiosity with the Russian princess of the same name. Not that this Anastassia is a princess in any way, but the name caught my attention.
“Mr. MC is Vayen. His name came from a variation of Vayne, a character in C.J. Cherryh’s Gate of Iverl. I loved the name and his devotion to the FMC. That, in part, shaped Vayen as he came into his own when I switched the entire story to his POV years ago.
“Well then, now I know who they are. I don’t suppose you’ll tell me anything more about them?”
“You’ll just have to wait and see, Chuck.”
He wrings his hands. “Umm, exactly how long will I have to wait?”
Darn it, now I have find somewhere to put him in. I was hoping he’d forget. “Until I get to the point where I plan on putting you in. I’m not there yet.”
“Thanks then. I’ll be waiting over there.” He goes to the stack of CDs and sits down.
Well that's annoying. I guess I should get to writing so I can get rid of him.
“No one is watching you, by the way.”
“I feel like I should sneak though, being a spy and all.”
“Well quit it. You look silly.”
“Okay, fine.” He stands up straight and dusts off his uniform.
“Is that hair on your uniform?”
“Yes, and it’s not mine.” He winks.
“I appreciated your message the other day. I’m assuming this hair is related?”
“Yes.” He winks again.
“Is this going to require me getting out of my chair and traversing the paper wads?”
“I’d recommend it.”
“What are you, a freakin magic 8 ball?”
“Not sure. Ask again later.”
I roll my eyes and shake my head. “I take it you have a question?”
“I do. Since this story has changed so much from the one I was cut from so long ago, I’d like to get to know the characters I’ll be interacting with when you write me back in. What are their names and how did you choose them?”
“Write you back in? Oh yes, I did mention that didn’t I. Hmm. Well, I suppose you should know them then. Ms. MC is Anastassia. Her last name is still subject to change so we’ll leave that out for now. I picked her name because I’ve always had a curiosity with the Russian princess of the same name. Not that this Anastassia is a princess in any way, but the name caught my attention.
“Mr. MC is Vayen. His name came from a variation of Vayne, a character in C.J. Cherryh’s Gate of Iverl. I loved the name and his devotion to the FMC. That, in part, shaped Vayen as he came into his own when I switched the entire story to his POV years ago.
“Well then, now I know who they are. I don’t suppose you’ll tell me anything more about them?”
“You’ll just have to wait and see, Chuck.”
He wrings his hands. “Umm, exactly how long will I have to wait?”
Darn it, now I have find somewhere to put him in. I was hoping he’d forget. “Until I get to the point where I plan on putting you in. I’m not there yet.”
“Thanks then. I’ll be waiting over there.” He goes to the stack of CDs and sits down.
Well that's annoying. I guess I should get to writing so I can get rid of him.
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