Welp, Script Frenzy starts tomorrow…

As is to be expected, I’m excited, nervous, and a bit anxious.  It is, after all, a dramatic undertaking – one which I will have to balance with several other activities.  As I have mentioned, April is gardening season.  In addition, my sister is placing pretty heavy demands on me to help with “our” project.  I should be quite busy this April.

With that in mind, I’ve made a list of things I will need to do today and in the upcoming month…

1. Get up-to-date on all the webcomics I read today.  Then see if I can go the entire month without ever reading them.
2. Vacuum all the floors in the house, including the linoleum bits.  That will greatly reduce the amount of housework I have to do during SF.
3. Let my little brother have significant quantities of computer time.  Notebooks may be my friend this April.
4. Play TFOS with my siblings at least twice.
5. Finish making the hairs for my sister and continue to supply input for that particular project.  Drag the inspiration out kicking and screaming if I must.
6. Carve the remaining sections of my script from more-or-less whole cloth.
7. And, of course, continue to update iApprove more or less daily.

What fun.  I’ve finished catching up on the webcomics already, so now I’m going to attempt #2 and #3.

It’s Essay Time.

When the time comes to take my GED exam, I will be required to write an essay.  I am fairly sure I will be able to do this, although I find myself somewhat nervous about it.

Essay writing is a subject in which I have a significant amount of experience.  I have been writing essays, in one form or another, for several years.  Some of them are available on the Internet, and they cover a wide variety of topics.  Usually these are rather inane, such as time travel, fish, or vampires, but I do occasionally dabble into practical subjects.

I am a bit unsure as to the nature of the things I’ll need to include in this essay.  All I know at this point is that I will be required to write on a specific topic, and that I must use a standard essay formula: an opening paragraph, followed by three paragraphs of content and a final, closing paragraph.  This, too, is a subject in which I have some experience.  In the many essays I have written, it has always felt strange if I neglected to include a closing sentence.

Despite my experience, I am still a bit nervous about the whole process.  I am concerned that I will not be able to impart as much information as an essay should contain.  I am less concerned about matters of sentence structure; as stated above, I have been doing this sort of thing for some time.  The other thing that worries me is the time limit; I should have about forty-five minutes to complete the task and, though I am sure that is plenty of time, I still feel constrained by it.

Given my history and experience with the subject, I am fairly certain that my misgivings are poorly placed or at the least exaggerated.  However, I will continue to practice the art of essay-writing whenever the situation arises.

So… The Big Rewrite.

This is the fun part.  I have to take the first draft of my novel, written in November, and hack it apart and rearrange it and rewrite large portions of it until it becomes the novel I was actually trying to write.

Of course, by “the fun part” I mean “even harder than writing the draft in the first place”.  In order to make sure that the story ends up where I want it, I first had to write down a point-by-point summary of the story, then change the summary into the new plot I want.  (If I didn’t, I’d experience the same thing I did when writing the first draft – start out in one place, then end up somewhere completely different because of some plot point that thought it ought to be added.  Writing out the plot beforehand enables me to keep constant tabs on what direction I want to be taking the story.)  After that, I have to take the story and re-work it to fit the layout of the new plot.

To make this easier, I’m merging the old and new plot into a single document and labeled the parts accordingly: old plot points that I’m leaving out (or moving) are in italics, plot points that are staying in the same place are underlined, and plot points that are new (or moved) are bold-underlined.

This may sound like a ton of work, but it’s actually only taken me a couple of days (work-time) to do, and in the end it’ll make the rewrite significantly easier.  Maybe.  I’ll have to try it first, but I’m pretty sure it will.

Aaaaaand that’s the scoop.

NaNoWriMo: What happened to summarizing my book?

Well, to put it quite simply, I ran out of time.  I’m pretty busy these days, between keeping up a blog and writing a book and doing occasional housework and getting over the cold.  So I haven’t had the time to put up continual summaries, and when I have I haven’t had the energy.

The end result of this is, unfortunately, that you’re not getting any more summaries for awhile.  But that’s no biggie.  Wil Wheaton said it was okay.

Rekindling Your Enthusiasm With Darren Brown!

Well, I posted this on the NaNoWriMo message board, but it struck me as being a pretty useful piece of text so I thought I’d pop it up here as well, for those who don’t frequent the board.

So, I’ve noticed a rather disturbing trend around here.  People – me included – are beginning to grow weary of their novels.  They’ve been working and working on them for ages and they just never seem to be getting anywhere.  On the other hand, we’re getting bright new ideas in our heads about new novels that we want to work on that should be so much better than what we’re doing now.

Obviously, what we need is a way to shift our motivation.  A way to rekindle that flame of love toward our original project.  Unfortunately, I couldn’t hire the real Darren Brown to reprogram your brains, so we’re going to have to do it a bit differently.

The first thing you need to do is think about all the enthusiasm you have for this new project.  Not about its essence, or the words, or whether you think you could finish it by the end of November.  Just focus on your enthusiasm.

Next, think about what you have planned next for your WriMo novel.  Boring by comparison, is it?  Just a lackluster chunk of plot with no feeling?  Yep, I thought so.

So what you’re going to do is you’re going to take the last piece of plot you’ve worked on, and look at it as though it’s the very start (or near the very start) of your book.  Figure out what kind of magical things are going to happen in this scene to lure you into the world and make you want to explore it some more.  Don’t worry about repeating things you’ve written earlier; duplicates can be taken care of in December.  Craft your world from the bottom up, as it were.  Expand those little things that you’ve been wanting to toy with but never figured out how to fit in.  Introduce a brand new cast of characters, if you want.  Remember, although it’s cleaner storytelling to introduce everyone in the beginning, it’s more intriguing – and much more realistic – just to weave them in as you go along.  Try exploring tangents of your story that you’ve never thought of before.  Do subplots within subplots of completely unimportant characters if you want to.  You can do anything with your story, as long as it gets your blood flowing and that new-novel itch back into your system.

Or, if your plot seems to be completely dead and just won’t move no matter how you prod it, it may be time for a new plot twist.  This could be any random thing, if you’re not worried about violating your genre.  It could be something that you thought about including some time back but threw out because you found it superfluous.  Well, drag it out and try it on for size!  It can’t do any more than not fit.  Or it could send your story spiralling into marvelous new directions that you never thought possible.

The only thing you must do is do what thrills you.  Whatever makes you excited about writing; whatever sparks that new-book smell, as it were.  Have fun and good luck.

NaNoWriMo: Totally rearranging my plot.

Not rewriting, mind you.  Just rearranging.  Now that the mad rush of Week One is over, I’m taking some time during Week Two to figure out exactly where I’m going with the plot.  This is essential, because as it was I had one side of the plot proceeding way faster than it should have, while the other side was lagging behind.  So I’m removing the faster stuff and concentrating more on a part of the plot that needs to be developed first.

This means that much of the summary I have provided is now obsolete.  Stevens is no longer getting weird messages in his office and getting rescued by Keller; instead, he’s busy studying pictures sent to him by Iverson from the dig.  This is relevant, as it enables him to figure out what the dragons were doing there, while allowing enough time for the men in the laboratory to finish their extraction project.

Here’s a sample of what’s getting added:

* * *

Stevens examined the photograph currently displayed on the computer.  It was a very lovely male skull – full-grown, by the look of it – with most of a neck and a good set of forearms attached.  He wondered idly if this one was perhaps the mate of the female.  What about the others, then?  Their children?  Pack members?  He thought on that.  Herding behavior wasn’t unheard of in dinosaurs, although it seemed to him that a dragonlike creature would be solitary.  Perhaps they had banded together merely for migration.  No, that didn’t quite cover it.  A dragon wouldn’t be migrating while it had an unhatched egg.  It would migrate somewhere to breed…

Mating season!  That was it!  The dig wasn’t just a mass grave, he realized now.  It was an ancient dragon breeding site — a site gone horribly wrong.

NaNoWriMo: The Plot So Far.

Now that I’m caught up on my word count, I need to get back to summarizing this thing, or I’m never going to get back up to date on the plot.  So here we go:

After meeting Keller, Stevens heads home for the day.  The next morning, he receives a call from Miron, telling him that the fossil’s been unpacked and he can come check it out.  He hauls his rear to work, despite the fact that he slept poorly the night before, and shows up at the lab.  Things are going all right until he makes physical contact with the fossilized object and suffers a psychic flash, at which point Miron orders him to take some time off and sort himself out.

* * *

Stevens looked much better by Monday morning.  His hair was cut short and neatly groomed, he had on appropriate work clothes, and he’d even managed to find a tie and lab coat somewhere.  Aside from the mug of coffee he toted everywhere, Miron could hardly believe he was working with the same man.

They met up in the hallway outside the lab; the men inside were currently busy with a very touchy part of the extraction process, so Miron had been rather unceremoniously given the boot.  He wasn’t too bothered; this would give him time to catch up with his erstwhile subordinate.

“So, what do we have?” Stevens asked.  That was Stevens for you, getting straight to business.  Then again, Miron reasoned, if he’d been away from work for that long he’d be anxious to get back to work.  He supposed socialization would have to wait.

“Well,” he began, but paused, not entirely sure how to phrase his statement.  “I’m afraid I owe you an apology.”

The eyebrows popped.  “What for?”

“My initial assumption as to the nature of this creature was a bit hasty.  Now that we’ve exposed more of its bodily structure, I’m quite certain that you are correct and the wings are, in fact, a part of its body.”

Stevens nodded appreciatively.  “Well, that’s good.  Anything else new?”

“Not much.  The guys are working on a virtual model of the creature based on the bone structure they’ve got so far, but since most of it is still encased in rock it’s been slow going.”

“What about the e- the round thing?”

“It’s in the back room for now.  We plan on getting to it in the near future, but at the moment all our resources are concentrated on your dragon.”

“Hmm.”  Stevens nodded, more a gesture of understanding than agreement.  “Can I see it?”

“The dragon?”

“No, the other thing.”

Miron frowned.  “Why?”

“You remember when I mentioned that I was hearing messages from something buried with the fossil?”

“…Yes.”  Miron didn’t admit as much, but he found himself a bit skeptical about Stevens’ claims.  He hadn’t had a lot of experience with necropathy, but as far as he could tell it wasn’t too far a throw from insanity.  He hoped that Stevens wasn’t insane, but given that the younger man was claiming to hear voices in fossils he found himself a bit dubious.

“Well,” said Stevens, “I’ve got a hypothesis going about it.  But in order to confirm it, I need to be able to see inside the block containing the object.  Do you have an X-ray machine in here?”

“There’s one inside, but we can’t use it right now,” Miron answered.  Then, quickly manipulating the conversation, he asked, “So how have you been?  Sleeping better?”

Stevens nodded.  “Much better, since I got the dead mouse out of my fridge.  What about you, how’ve you been?”

“Fine.  Just keeping work up.  Speaking of which, I found your latest report on my desk this morning.  Good piece of work; very informative.”

“Thanks.”  Stevens frowned, giving Miron the impression that he wasn’t too interested in small talk.  Though perhaps that impression was wrong, as he continued: “So where’d you find your secretary?”

Miron laughed.  “Oh, so you met Miss Keller.  Handful, isn’t she?  I picked her up earlier this summer.  She’s working her way through college, and since I was just fresh out of a secretary, I thought I’d try her on for size.  It’s working out pretty well.  She’s a great typist, and she’s not even too crazy once you get to know her.  But you know how it is with students.  They’re easily intimidated by doctorates.”

“Ah… I see.”

* * *

Meanwhile, at the dig, the men are bored, despite Iverson’s recent discovery of a large male dragon skull.  Maria gives Thatcher a pep talk.

Back at the museum, the men in the laboratory have been hard at work removing the fossil — particularily Ian Moon, who has received the task of working with the skull.  While extracting the fossil from its stone casing, he discovers a substance on the surface of a cavity that ignites when exposed to oxygen, and is forced to continue his work in a vacuum chamber for fear of destroying the skull.

Stevens attempts to return to work, but finds himself absorbed by the impressions of flight coming from the object in the laboratory.  He nearly passes out, and Keller is forced to carry him outside.  Stevens learns that Keller is a nursing student, and they decide to work together on his problem.  Later that evening, Stevens and Keller meet in Stevens’ apartment; they eat dinner and discuss politics.

NaNoWriMo: Writing scenes you hate.

I have always had a problem with scenes I hate.  As, I suspect, everyone does.  Usually, though, I would blunder through them, trying and trying to get them right, until finally I gave up and the story died there.

NOT TODAY!

Today, I sat down and wrote a scene that I hated.  I wrote the whole thing – nearly 1000 words – and I finished it.  And then the most amazing thing happened.

I felt good.

No, more than that.  I felt great.

It was such a bear writing the scene, I thought it would never end.  It weighed on me oppressively from all sides, dragging me into the bowels of despair and editing anguish.  But once I finished, I felt wonderful.  Fantastic.  I felt free. Now I could move on to writing something more relevant to the plot; something I wanted to write.  It was the most beautiful, liberating experience I’ve ever had.  It was the closest I have ever come as a writer to flying.

For your lulz, here is the scene.

* * ** ** * * ** *

Stevens yawned, blinked, and stared at his computer screen.  He’d been working on his report for several hours now, and it was not going well.  He’d tried ordering it into sections, working on the more interesting bits and then filling in the gaps, and just charging at it, but he was still stuck at the midway point.  He frowned.  It wasn’t that he had a problem describing the eating habits of lizards.  It was just that he didn’t want to.

As luck would have it, though, he was saved from that particular necessity by a sudden creak of his office door.  Glancing up from his chair, he discovered the source of the noise: a young woman on the verge of entering, one hand on the doorknob, staring at him with an expression between shock and guilt.

“Oh, hey there,” he said.

The woman blinked, closed her mouth, and stepped inside, continuing to stare at Stevens somewhat nervously.  “Hey there,” she responded.  “Uh… I didn’t realize you were in here.  Dr. Stevens, right?”

He nodded.  “Yeah.”

“Oh,” she said.  “Uh… I was sent to deliver this.”  From behind her back, she produced a small but attractive fruit basket.  “It was actually supposed to be here hours ago, but we had some delays… anyway, it’s here now.”  She set it on the desk and clasped her hands behind her back, looking rather sheepish.

“Thanks,” said Stevens, looking the basket over.  It clearly wasn’t an expensive one; like his office, it was more functional than thoughtful.  Still, it was a nice gesture, and he was getting pretty hungry.  He grabbed a pear, rubbed it on his sleeve, and looked back at the woman.  She hadn’t left yet; it seemed almost as though she were waiting for something, but he couldn’t guess what.  “You know, I like fruit.  It doesn’t talk to me when I eat it.”

She frowned.  “Talk to you…?”

“Yeah.”  Feeling impulsive, he set down the pear and held out his hand.  “Dr. Jean Stevens, necropath.”

“Ah.”  The woman seemed a bit more relaxed now, but the handshake she returned was still rather nervous.  “Liza Keller, telekinetic.”

Stevens grinned.  “I like telekinesis.  That’s cool.  You move stuff with your mind, right?”

“Uh, no.”  She smiled, but it was an apologetic and rather unconvincing smile.  “I actually just move myself.  Moving other stuff would be psychokinesis.”

“Oh.”  He nodded.

There was a long pause, in which Keller seemed to be trying to decide something.  “Well,” she said at last, “I’d better go.  Um, if you need anything, just let me know; I’ll probably be in Prof. Miron’s office.  It’s on the next floor up; just take the elevator, step out to the left and it’s four doors down.  Or you can call, if you like.  Let me get you the number…”  She scrambled around for a moment before pulling a small card out of her handbag.  “Here you go.”  She handed it to him, then the hands returned to their retreat.  “Okay, that should do it.  Just call me if there’s anything you need.”

She began to leave, but he interrupted her with a quick exclamation.  Surprised, she wheeled back around, one hand steadying her handbag and the other remaining bashfully out of sight.  “What is it?”

“There are a couple of things you could do for me,” he said.  “Can you get a coffeepot sent up here?”

“Sure.”  She nodded.

“Great.  Now, the other thing has to do with my apartment…” When a look of panic flashed across her face, he quickly continued.  “I was just wondering if you had the directions.  I was thinking of turning in for the evening.”

“Oh!” she exclaimed, now looking both relieved and embarassed.  “Yes, of course.  I’ll have them faxed down here in a jiffy.  Is that everything?”

“I think that’ll do it.”

“Okay,” she said, lapsing mainly into relief.  “I’ll just get to that then.  Uh… I guess I’ll see you later.”

“Probably… seeing as how I’ll be working here for the next few months or so.  Unless you were planning on going anywhere.”  He was needling her now, just testing to see how far he could tease her until she cracked.

“Uh, I don’t think so.  Unless Prof. Miron decides to get a new secretary, anyway.  Since that’s my job.”

He nodded.  “I gathered.”

“Right.  So, anyway, see you later.”

“‘Bye.”  He waved a bit, after her back was turned, and retrieved his pear from the desk.  Weird kid, he thought.  Must be a darned good secretary.

I has a novel. I keeps it!

It occured to me today, as it often does, that perhaps posting the entirety of my novel online might not be a good idea.  I mean, I might want it for something.  I might want to, say, edit it and get it published.  So rather than posting the whole thing, I’ll just summarize my progress and include an excerpt from the chapter.  (Actually, chapters.  There are a few of them.)

When we last left off, Drake Thatcher was following James Iverson and Maria Brennan into the mess tent for some lunch.  Drake lingered behind to take care of equipment, and it was revealed that he had psychokinetic abilities.

When Thatcher enters the tent, Iverson is describing his latest find to the other paleontologists.  One of them, Cleveland Henderson, suggests that Iverson have the resident reptile expert, Jean Stevens, take a look at it.  He then comments on the fact that Stevens is not present for lunch.  It is revealed that everyone in the area has some sort of “gift” – an ability beyond the tactile, if you will – and Jean’s gift is hearing the voices of carcasses, so he eats lunch in private.

After lunch, Iverson gets Stevens to examine the fossil.  He points out that it is female, and venomous.  He expresses an almost affectionate interest in the fossil before leaving the site.  Iverson resumes work on the fossil, and after considerable work discovers that the shoulder blades are intact.  Excited, he calls some of the other paleontologists to help him dig it up.

Several hours later, they discover that the fossil is the nearly-intact skeleton of what appears to be a dragon who was carrying a round object.  Stevens is again summoned to examine it, and suffers a momentary bout of psychic vertigo when he touches the object.  Moments later, he determines it to be a fossilized egg, but cannot satisfactorily explain how he knows this.

Henderson sends word to home base – the Royal Paleological Museum – and they arrange to have the fossil removed and transported to the museum’s laboratory.  Stevens, who continues to feel a strange connection to the fossil, has himself transferred to the museum so he can continue to study it.

* * ** ** * * ** *

[[The professor]] didn’t seem to notice, though, as he looked up from his papers at the disheveled paleontologist.  “Ah!  Dr. Jean Stevens, correct?”

Stevens nodded.  “That’s me.”

The professor smiled and extended a rather distracted hand, which Stevens shook.  “Professor Owan Miron.  Pleased to meet you.  I understand you’re a reptile expert?”

“Specialist,” Stevens corrected.  He’d never really thought of himself as being qualified enough to be called an expert, but he also knew that it wouldn’t be a good idea to mention this to someone he’d be working under.

“Ah,” said Miron, with the general tone of someone who didn’t really care about the difference.  “Well, welcome to the Royal Paleological Museum.  So, this fossil of yours, I understand it’s quite a find.”

“That’s right,” said Stevens.  “I’m not sure how much they described in the official report, but…”  He trailed off, inviting Miron to continue the thought.

“Mainly they used a lot of words that I’d never heard before,” Miron admitted.  “Things like dual scapulas and hexiappendigal.”

Stevens raised his eyebrows.  “Yeah, that pretty much covers it.  It’s easier to understand once you see it.”

* * ** ** * * ** *

After meeting his new boss, Stevens is escorted inside the museum, where he is shown his new office and advised to wait for further instructions.

NaNoWriMo: Chapter 1.

‘Kay, rather than uploading this in a bunch of different posts, I’ll just keep adding onto a single one until I complete a chapter.  It’ll be easier for me to keep track that way, and I won’t clutter up my blog with these posts.

* * ** ** * * ** * ** * * ** ** * *

Drake Thatcher frowned at the bones in front of him.  It was another pair of wings – or rather, wing bones; the cartilegenous structures that made up the supports had long since rotted away.  They were larger than the other specimens he had seen, but like the others, separated from the body that would have enabled him to identify the species.

A breeze drifted through the quarry, knocking dust and bits of rock onto the exposed bones.  Thatcher scowled and batted them away, then returned to his contemplation of the fossil.  So many pairs of wings, and no bodies.  Where had they all come from?

“Hey, Thatcher, come look at this!”

Drake Thatcher groaned slightly, but set down his excavation tools and glanced over at his compatriot.  James Iverson was an exciteable young fellow, having just come to the field of paleontology, but he usually didn’t call for someone unless there was just cause; whatever he had was likely to be of some use.  “What is it, Iverson?”

“It’s this head I’ve found,” the novice answered, his face beaming.  “There’s a full set of teeth here, and I’m finding the beginnings of a spinal column.  This could be the most complete specimen we’ve found.”

Intrigued, Thatcher collected his tools and moved to Iverson’s location, taking care not to knock any dirt onto the exposed fossil as he knelt to the ground.  Squinting against the morning sun, he examined the skull closely, brushing away a bit of loose soil with one cautious finger.  Iverson’s report was correct; the skull’s teeth were not only present, but remarkably well-preserved.  “Good job,” he said, rising to a kneel.  “Judging by the shape of these teeth, I’d say we can confirm the hypothesis that the beasts were predators.”

“That’s what I figured, too,” said Iverson, biting his lower lip in an unsuccessful attempt to restrain his enthusiasm.  “Man, I can’t believe this.  I mean, I figured we’d find something like this eventually, but when you actually do it… wow!”

Thatcher grinned, Iverson’s excitement catching up to him.  “Yep.  You keep up the good work, and maybe they’ll name this beastie after you.”

Iverson’s eyes lit up.  “What, really?  You think?”

“Well, anything’s possible.”  Thatcher shrugged.  “It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened in this camp.”

“Wait,” said Iverson.  “You don’t mean this camp personally…?”  He frowned.

“Ah!” exclaimed Thatcher.  “No.  Of course not.”  Iverson’s confusion was understandable.  Their current excavation camp had only been in place for a few weeks, and during that time they’d discovered only two species they believed to be unique — Iverson’s predator, and those blasted wings.  Neither of them had been removed from the site yet, much less named.  “Actually, it happened some years ago, about five miles from Ottawa.  There was a species of starfish named for my supervisor.”

“Huh.”

“As much as I hate to interrupt you boys-”

Thatcher started, wheeling around and coming face-to-face with the camp’s cook, Maria Brennan.  Apparently she was also startled, as she stepped backwards, raising her arms in a gesture of peace.  When Thatcher made no further movement, she lowered her arms and grinned at him.  “Anyway,” she said, “as I was saying, it’s time for lunch.”

“What, already?” Iverson whined.  “It was just getting interesting out here!”

“Yes, already.”  Maria put one hand on her hip and gestured toward the mess tent with the other.  “You need to keep food in your system.  If you get too hungry, you’ll start to make mistakes.  If you make mistakes, you’re liable to damage something.  I don’t think you want to be explaining a damaged fossil to headquarters, eh?”  She winked, elbowing gently at Iverson’s ribs.

“No,” said Iverson, stepping cautiously away from both Maria and the dig area.  “I guess a short break would be all right.  Thatcher, would you mind taking care of this…” He inclined his head toward the fossil.

“Sure,” Thatcher answered.  He waited for Maria and Iverson to head for the tent, then glanced at a large tarpaulin lying nearby.  He snapped his fingers, and the tarp flew out to cover the bones, Iverson’s tools arranging themselves in a small pile nearby.  Once he was sure everything had settled, he brushed the dust from his clothes and headed for the mess tent.