I'm writing this while also staring at my new notebook in rage because I WAS AN IDIOT AND LOST MY NANOWRIMO NOTEBOOK AT COMIC-CON.
This weekend, I had the privilege of being able to attend Comic-Con in Salt Lake City with a good friend of mine. We got to sit on the Iron Throne, I got to watch Chris Evans walk into and out of a bathroom, I listened to Sebastian Stan speak Romanian, and I listened to John Barrowman tell a story about how he actually made people stand up and away from his seat on a plane because he kept farting. I blew my money on a cinch bag, a pair of Gryffindor socks, some jewelry, and the aforementioned new notebook (it has a dragon on it).
While on this trip, like the good little writer I am, I attended several writing panels and tried my best to take notes on them. One of said panels was about killing characters and during said panel, I drew a pretty great diagram about the process of becoming an author--as described by the people on the panel. Something about an inverted slope and Vaseline.
However, when you're walking to and from panels and walking through aisle upon aisle of vendors who keep pulling you in with their fandom-related goodies, you're feet are going to start hurting eventually. When you're walking through the show floor in high heel boots, that moment comes a lot sooner than you might thing, which calls for several breaks throughout the day so you're feet literally do not fall of.
During one of said breaks, I had to pull out my notebook to access another item. I set it to the side and checked my phone to make sure I was up to date on all the happenings in the real world that I really didn't care about that much because I was at Comic Con for crying out loud. Although, being in the middle of a crowd and having to move quickly in order to make a quick escape, I had to move quickly and in that moment, forgot to grab my bag, which also happened to be the biggest thing I was carrying all day. Now it's probably in a dumpster somewhere.
So now I'm sitting in bed, flipping through the eleven pages that I managed to type before going to Comic Con and lamenting the fact that for some reason I feel the need to rewrite everything into the notebook,
Tuesday, September 29, 2015
Wednesday, September 23, 2015
Preparation Log #1: Darkness
Man is it that time of the year already?
No, it's not Halloween. Halloween has never been my thing.
An argument could be made for Christmas.
However, pumpkins and holly wreathes set aside, it is once again time for me to try (and fail) to keep a blog for my preparation and actual writing process for National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). I'm gonna do it this year I swear.
I think.
Regardless, the writer is out of the bag early this year with a new blog and a new (old) book to write.
Choosing what to write this year was nothing short of difficult. I have so many ideas and received many suggestions, one of which was to write a sequel to The Wingwalker. I thought about writing the Encyclopedia Cerinia, which, for people who have read Wingwalker, is the encyclopedia from which excerpts are taken and used to introduce chapters in that story. That, however, as fun as it was to write, sounded more painful than pulling out my own fingernails. I considered potentially starting an autobiography (working title: The Little House on the Corner), but I don't think I'm ready to take that step yet.
Then one day I reached higher on my shelf of thoughts and with the help of a good friend, I was able to pull down and dust off one of my first ever attempts at writing a novel.
If there's one thing anyone should know about me, it's that I've been calling myself a writer since I was 13 years old. At 21 years old now, you can imagine the progress that's been made.
Let's just say that, while reading my barely-teen writing, it was nothing short of a cringe worthy experience. The idea, as good as it was, had no business being in my 13 year old hands. It's dark, it's gritty, and it handles a difficult topic: dissociation.
That was another thing, with my knowledge now, I am slightly more qualified to handle subjects such as people experiencing derealization and dissociation into new identities.
On a less extreme note, taking a story of this magnitude and confining it to one world (yes, you heard me) is literally impossible. There's just so much I want to include that I've literally started creating an entire STAR SYSTEM to handle the magnitude of this story. I mean there needs to be a survival scene on a world made entirely of ice. I plan on stranding one of my characters on a deserted world that does nothing but serve as a stellar junkyard for the central government. Heck, my main character comes from a world that died several years before the events of the story.
DO YOU UNDERSTAND?
*Sigh* The things I do for writing.
Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Rogue.
No, it's not Halloween. Halloween has never been my thing.
An argument could be made for Christmas.
However, pumpkins and holly wreathes set aside, it is once again time for me to try (and fail) to keep a blog for my preparation and actual writing process for National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). I'm gonna do it this year I swear.
I think.
Regardless, the writer is out of the bag early this year with a new blog and a new (old) book to write.
Choosing what to write this year was nothing short of difficult. I have so many ideas and received many suggestions, one of which was to write a sequel to The Wingwalker. I thought about writing the Encyclopedia Cerinia, which, for people who have read Wingwalker, is the encyclopedia from which excerpts are taken and used to introduce chapters in that story. That, however, as fun as it was to write, sounded more painful than pulling out my own fingernails. I considered potentially starting an autobiography (working title: The Little House on the Corner), but I don't think I'm ready to take that step yet.
Then one day I reached higher on my shelf of thoughts and with the help of a good friend, I was able to pull down and dust off one of my first ever attempts at writing a novel.
If there's one thing anyone should know about me, it's that I've been calling myself a writer since I was 13 years old. At 21 years old now, you can imagine the progress that's been made.
Let's just say that, while reading my barely-teen writing, it was nothing short of a cringe worthy experience. The idea, as good as it was, had no business being in my 13 year old hands. It's dark, it's gritty, and it handles a difficult topic: dissociation.
That was another thing, with my knowledge now, I am slightly more qualified to handle subjects such as people experiencing derealization and dissociation into new identities.
On a less extreme note, taking a story of this magnitude and confining it to one world (yes, you heard me) is literally impossible. There's just so much I want to include that I've literally started creating an entire STAR SYSTEM to handle the magnitude of this story. I mean there needs to be a survival scene on a world made entirely of ice. I plan on stranding one of my characters on a deserted world that does nothing but serve as a stellar junkyard for the central government. Heck, my main character comes from a world that died several years before the events of the story.
DO YOU UNDERSTAND?
*Sigh* The things I do for writing.
Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Rogue.
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