NaNoWriMo: Prep!

[Snow Fox]

Good morning/afternoon/evening my dear writers!



I have found that I've written this in a letter format three times and found each one to not be nearly exciting enough to be an official Pre-NaNoWriMo letter. Instead, enjoy this dramatic scene that may or may not be an analogy of the upcoming travails and challenges you will be faced with.

"So..." Said the woman dressed completely in black. "We meet again, don't we?" She was a vixen, a snipe, a bramble, and an ambush all combined into one singular form. The dusty wind from the red plateaus that surrounded the town whipped her hair about in a furious way, as if it were a black flame tempting anyone to test just how hot it could get. Her fingers twitched down at her side and, somewhere, an old man on a rocking chair decided just then to strike up a hollow tune on an even older harmonica.



He stopped walking. Slowly, a turning pivot on his heel as he looked up to the woman through grey wizened eyes that have seen more of these face-offs than even he could count. The sand scuffed beneath his boot and he glared to her from beneath the brim of his hat. “You thought you could surprise me this time, huh?” A grizzled voice barked across the span of rouge desert wasteland between them. The dark windows of the buildings on either side gaped in surprise at the challenge. “Don’t be so pretentious, my girl.” A roughened thumb came up and flicked along the brim of his hat before firmly grasping the edge and hauling it her way. “I always expect a plot twist.”



The desert seemed to reel back away from the hat and the woman in black was forced to shield her own sharp eyes. “Damn you.” She spat before her hand came up, holding a blade up against the one that crashed firmly in a deflection against the hero’s. “You think you can change a scene without cause? You think you can just alter reality so freely?” She stepped back, her robes falling about behind her as a crackle of dark energy formed around her free hand. “I’m adaptable. You care for a plot twist? I’ll give you many!”



It was the hero’s turn to now shield his eyes, lowering the metal visor to his new found helm over his face as he twisted the reigns of his horse back towards him. It bucked, gave a long wavering whinney at the burst of magic lain out before him. It wasn’t the magic the man was afraid of, however, it was now the dark spawn that had erupted from the ground behind her.



Two long, black wings sprung first from the Earth, the hooks on either end clutching into the ridges of the chasm it had just made. The hole exhaled heat straight from the core of the very planet as it sighed a creature of pure malice. The dragon’s wings gave a long beat down as it pulled itself away from its constraints. The woman in black’s dark hand caressed the creature’s nose at it snorted to the hero atop his high horse. “You think yourself so mighty. You think you are so swift to conquer any path. But can you conquer your own problems?” The dragon’s lips curled back from harsh fangs and a line of white-hot flame spewed from its obsidian mouth.



He tugged hard on the reigns again, only a hand deflecting the inferno away. The jaw of his steed, now a raptor which dropped low on all fours and gave a threatening hiss to the direction where the woman in black was now completely missing. The hero’s eyes scanned the dark shadows of the jungle. Each turn would produce hazards, he was sure and any secret revealed could easily allow the woman in black to pounce on him once more. A sharp pull on the leather straps holding the raptor’s muzzle caused it to spring back up into its bipedal stance. “Alright, just stay steady.” He uttered in a voice that was anything but steady. It wavered with uncertainty as he urged his companion forward through the sticky marshes of the humid forest. Somewhere high above the trees, a single bird gave several short calls that sounded akin to an alarm. With his eyes up, attempting to find the creature, he was too late to catch the patch that his raptor had stepped into.



He reeled back, attempting to correct the mistake, but it was too late. The raptor screamed in a half hiss half cry of terror as its long clawed foot sunk half deep into a pit of muck. The hero undid his feet from the stirrups and launched himself back. Grabbing on to the tail which flailed about wildly with fear, he attempted to pull the beast back. The dinosaur gave another helpless gasp for help as it now sunk into the thigh. Hopping the treacherous patch, the hero clung on either side of the leather bridle, tugging the beast forward now. There was nothing he could say, nothing more he could do. The adrenaline pounded in his chest with the realization that he was about to lose his one true friend out here and he was helpless to help in any way. Another groan to attempt to pull the creature free as it was now clambering with its shorter front claws. Its second foot had already began to sink as the entire lower half fell below the black depths.



A faulty choice in his own footing and the hero realized his own life would soon be at stake. His ankle was already covered and he attempted to pull away, finding his own fate decided. The raptor seemed to also realize this and, instead of fighting further, plowed its face first down in against the murk. He felt the clasp of razor sharp rows of teeth against his boot before also feeling that his lifelong companion had just taken hold of the one thing that kept him restrained. A final pull and he fell back, freed from his shoe, watching the spines of his steed vanish slowly into the pit.



His chest was heaving and his eyes were burning. Mouth agape as though to scream, yet no sound could come. Turning slowly from the lack of a scene before him, he stumbled on, careful to avoid any other pits and to stay close to cover in the event that something else might attempt to take something from him. He had nothing left. Nothing left but his life.



“You have more than that.” A voice hissed from the shadows.



The hero’s wise eyes turned to the darkness with sorrow, “And how would you know?” The flask was clutched tight in his hands and he glared at the voice from behind the collar of his coat. “How could you know anythin’ ‘bout me?”



A woman strode from the shadows, her body shaped entirely in a tight black dress that sang nothing except praises for her form. Her arms were folded over her chest and her lips, coated in a rouge red lipstick that was just as striking as everything else about her, gave a knowing smile, “Cause, slick, I’m the one who you’ve been looking for.”



The detective’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, “And how would a dame like you be the one I’m lookin’ for?”



“You’re looking for somethin’ interesting, ain’t you?” Her hand came out and took the flask from his grasp. She didn’t even need to try. She knew she had him in her grasps. Tucking it back into his pocket, she grabbed the other side of his trench coat and pulled him close against her, “Somethin’ to ease that painful sorrow of not having anything left? You’re lost, slick, and you’ve ain’t no clue where you’re heading.”



“I know exactly where I was headin’.” The detective answered defiantly. Her perfume, however, was intoxicating even more than the shitty bourbon he’d been taking part in.



“The docks?” She scoffed, looking off to the direction he’d been stumbling. “That’s right where those gremlins want you.” Her sharp eyes locked back on to his, “Look, slick. I’ma let you off here. We’re not friends, you know that. I’ll throw everything I can at you, but you gotta at least keep trying.” Her hands came up and one slid around the back of his neck. “You go down to that dock, you’ll end up sleeping with the fishes. You’ll drown. You won’t come back up.”



It was a fact. It was one that he knew, but... “Then where else am I supposed to go?” He slurred back fiercely. This woman… they’ve tangoed before and somehow he always ended up back in her arms.



“Follow a new clue, slick.” Her lips touched his cheek and she pulled away, backing out of the streetlight. “You’ve got more than just one direction you can go. All you gotta do is look a little harder.” The vixen in black turned with a coy smile on those lips and sauntered back to the shadows that she had come, “Oh, and slick?”



The hero looked up to her sternly, “What?”



“Water isn’t the worst thing in the world.”



The sea spray that washed over him was treacherous and cold. He sputtered back as he hauled the net closer towards him. The calls and commands of the captain were drowned out by the storm that fell over the deck of the ship. However, if the waves kept tossing them like this, the deck would soon be completely underwater anyway. In a torrential downpour like this, it was hard to tell what exactly was up from down. He’d plunged straight into his fear and, yet, found a new found strength as the rains were battering his soul. The net was tied back into place and the sails, which had been tugged free of their masts flapped free against the black abyss both above and below.



A hand clamped hard onto his shoulder and the hero was spun about, “Boy.” The face of his captain spat through the sheets of water, “Didn’t you hear me? I said abandon ship.”



His head shook furiously as he attempt to blink through at the face of his superior, “No, sir.” The response came with a shout of his own. “This ship goes down, I’m going down with it.”



“You’ve a kid boy! Jump! Go!” The rough hand of the captain came against his neck and the man was tossed into the sea next to his shipmates who had the same treatment given to them. It was then that a sharp crackle of lightning illuminated through the sky, striking the mast and splitting the hull. The entire crew of ten looked on in complete horror, knowing full well that their captain was on the deck still. Finally, one shouted for them to swim away. They pulled their gaze from the wreck and plowed their arms through the churning sea and away from the sinking wreckage that would begin to pull them into the depths as well if they didn’t flee now.



The strain against their arms, the kicking of their legs… the men fell one by one into the gaping maw of the endless sea. There was no shore, there was no end, there was nothing but the black horizon and the impending demise of the fateful end. His hands gave up and his vision faded at the corners and, soon, his breathing was taken as the surface of the water was gliding further and further away from his slacking hands.



“You good out there?” The voice through the radio against his earpiece said. His eyes snapped open and he took a long breath of the filtered oxygen coming through the mask strapped over his face.



“I’m good.” He answered. “Got a little light-headed is all.” A few more buttons on the console were pushed and he looked up to the shuttle above him. “Test it now.”



The voice gave a jovial chuckle, “Don’t get all dreaming of home on me now. We’re only getting started out here.” A band of light drifted from the shuttle down to the planet. “Hey, looks like a steady lock to me. How are the readings where you are?”



The hero looked down and daringly loosened the nozzle at the end of his mask, “Steady and holding.” He took a long breath of the air from the foreign planet. “It’s nothing more than smooth sailing from here on out.”



“Took a lot of trouble for us to get here, you know.” The earpiece answered with amusement. “I’ll be down in a sec, don’t explore too far without me. It is a new planet, after all.”



The hero turned and looked back to the sky and further up into space sparkling back and around them. “It is a new planet, isn’t it?”



A hand rested against his shoulder and a woman dressed in a black version of his own suit loosened her own mask. “It is. And, my dear, we’re going to inhabit many, many more.”

It's a boundless world of writing out there, my dear writers. There are many worlds and blank pages that are just waiting for you to fill it with tragedy, comedy, adventure, romance, and emotion that can strike straight into the hearts of your readers. The only question I have for you, writer, is where will your story begin?

-Yours Foxily, 

    Snow

[Snow Fox]

P.S.

If you happen to find that you're still on the fence about joining in this year for some reason or another, here are a few reasons you should totally hop on this literary bandwagon.

You've got no time.


You are working, quite literally, from nine to five before running home, attempting to make some form of substantial food for both you and your furry companion (hopefully you don't mix them up) before slamming out a few chapters of homework, rolling yourself into a burrito of fluffy comfort by ten then falling asleep to wake up at eight and start it all over again. If this is your life, then it's the same schedule as several other Wrimo-ers and you guys get your own special forum of accomplishment when you meet that 50k novel. However, chances are, if that is the case, your computer should have a layer of dust and you've no time at all to be reading this. This is the number one excuse for people who say they want to participate in NaNo, but never do. I guarantee you, you have time; you're just choosing to not make it for this little idea stuck in the back of your mind.

And yes, you do have an idea.

You may be one of the many inclined to say that you've no clue what to write about or that anything you do write would be interesting at all. I say to write about THAT. Write about you, yourself, as a writer who is having trouble writing a story. Start with that. Do some pre-writing. Write about your emotional state, the impending doom, the complete feeling of being lost without a single idea of what to write and then--- write yourself having an idea. And, in writing the writer who is writing the idea, you've not only crafted a character that is wickedly based upon yourself (or perhaps, completely not at all) who has also found a way to weave a story.

There are many paths to any story, and you, my dear writer, are the one who decides where it goes.

For the life of me, I cannot remember if I had read this elsewhere or somehow managed to drag it as a diamond from the rough desert of my mind.

"An author doesn't simply write. They are having a one sided conversation with the future. They write a letter from the past for a reader in the present."

What will you write?


Don't want to be an author?

Then don't be! Writing a novel in the span of 30 days certainly doesn't make you an author in any way shape or form. And if you're daring to submit your manuscript to a publishing company on December first, I hold every right to come through this screen and slap you silly.

NaNo is practice. Say it with me. NaNo is practice. Praaaactiiiiice. Chances are you're reading this note through our wonderful NoRegrets forum. If you're not, well then someone copy/pasted this somewhere and shame on them. (However, if it still inspires you to write, that's fine by me!) If you are, then you're probably a roleplayer or someone who is so hooked on reading the creative writing between two writers that you're just waiting anxiously for that next post. So, what does writing a novel (alone) in 30 days have anything to do with cowriting on a forum for an undetermined amount of time?

Many. Many. Things. 

Practice. Yes, practice writing. Is your literary skill so advanced that you're already the next Anne Rice? Have you topped their level? Didn't think so. Not only are you training and honing the fine edge of your sword, but you are also elevating yourself beyond the state of a writer. 

Do you remember the times you have written where you don't remember writing this? Perhaps you've come across something you'd scrawled on a piece of paper that you're certain was too brilliant to come from your mind? Is there a phrase you'd written in one place and found it could fit so perfectly in another spot in your writing? There are gems among this river of your creative fountain. When your well has dried, cracked, and appears to be barren, have you tried digging? You may still find a precious emerald deep below the surface that may just cause a new trickle of water to start. 

The other is speed. Speed typing or writing is a skill that is beyond efficient in nearly every field now. Even when you don't think it will be, it will show up at some point or another. Whether it be scrawling something precisely upon a page or typing out at 90 words per minute, writing is something that comes up commonly among our modern society. Besides, secretarial work gets paid quite well as well as record managing. Just saying. 

Isn't it forced creativity?

The funny thing is the answer to that question is yes. Yes it is. And that's why we never submit NaNo writings on December 1st. Or even in the same year. Or maybe decade. Or ever. Once again, let's chant our favorite phrase in this post-script. NaNo is practice.

The other funny thing is that, though the answer is officially yes, it's at the same time a huge resounding noooooo. It is forced creativity. But it's also forcing you beyond the barriers of creativity. It's a mindset that is not one that can be easily described and one that I've found to be developed so acutely through the blind dashes of words reaching for the goal of 50,000 words. It is through this mindset that words come easily, thoughtlessly, and, eventually, are able to reach a purpose to the end of a post, chapter, or tale. The even more magical part of this element of a writer is that it becomes so keen that the words offered from this place are elegant and threaded into a glorious tapestry that we weren't sure our hands had weaved. Some people call this a muse. I say call it what you want. Appreciate and find this world.

I wrote a book!

I stole this line from my ML from my hometown.

I'm shameless. But this is the best excuse for everything. "Hey, can you take out the trash?" "I wrote a book." "What?" "I wrote a book!" "I don't get--" "Look. Have you written a book?" Now, here's where the conversation gets interesting, but still falls in your favor! (Usually) "Um-- no?" "Didn't think so." And you return to your previous task. OR! "Yeaaaaah?" This is where it gets tricky. You must rise to your feet with pure excitement, demand a highfive (or fistbump. Whichever is your preference) and, while they are dazed with the memories of actually writing a book themselves, you flee.

But really, this is one of the most incredible things of all time. You. Wrote. A. Book. You don't have to publish it. Hell, use it as stuffing for your mattress and never look at it again. You wrote it! If anyone seems to not be impressed by this fact, ask them if they've written a novel. Chances are, they haven't. I enjoy using the phrase, "Huh. Interesting." Which often catches them off-guard and probably slightly taken-aback at the fact that you find it interesting that they have NOT achieved this great achievement of achievements in their life.

Because it is. This is an achievement. You did something dauntingly impossible in the course of 30 days. And, even if you didn't? All those guilt monkeys that creep up on you and have pestered you for the entirety of November turn quite comforting by the time December hits. Quote the NaNo blog I totally ripped this from "They will point out that you’ve written 100 words more than you would have if you hadn’t bothered."

Because you did. And you will. You clever writer you.

And last, but certainly not least is the fact that you've got other writers writing alongside you in this sprint of writing suffrage. Community is probably the biggest plus that NaNoWriMo ever has going for it. Sure, the pep talks and the stuff and the sense of accomplishment is fine and dandy... but what about the people you can laugh at ridiculously stupid lines with? Head into a cafe (with outlets handy) and type for an hour with a friend while you both attempt to choke down scones without coffee since you drank that the first 10 minutes of you being there? How about the solutions for plot holes? Sprints and challenges?

The rejoicing cry of accomplishment echoed by companions when you've crossed the threshold, sat staring at your word count for a good 5 minutes before raising your fists to the air with utter disbelief! Huzzah!

Take my hand, writer. We've countless roads lain out before us. Let's adventure and then? Then, let us write.

[xXKittieChaosXx]

Ah it's that time of year again (soon). This time however I will not be joining the fun. I have my previous novel to finish and I rather not be in too much of a rush.

[Snow Fox]

Sad foxens! Perhaps your session this year will be national novel editing month at least try to join the flocks of writers who will do the December dash!

[Untypical God]

*runs around freaked out* Nano is almost here and I have no plot!

[Snow Fox]

You're not alone! I too am plotless so far!

Perhaps the next blurb letter will be that of plotting glory

[Untypical God]

Fox I have an idea! What was your last thing you wrote for nano, I could read it and the write the villains point of view!

Maybe not, I'm not sure.

[Snow Fox]

Actually, I did write from the villains point of view in Crimson Sky. It was a multi point of view novel of factions in competition on a foreign planet's continent

[CheruBear]

[sits in corner]

[Snow Fox]

Oh no you don't! You can't just hide in the corner this year! You're gonna write loud and proud!

Though... writing loud and proud is usually just a series of "takkatakkatakka"s ... hmm....

[CheruBear]

YES I CAN! You can bring laptops to the corner > >;;;

[Snow Fox]

Fine. corner party at Cheru's! ♥

[Untypical God]

Yea! Corner party!

[xXKittieChaosXx]

Oct 3, 2015 8:55:12 GMT -8 Snow Fox said:

Sad foxens! Perhaps your session this year will be national novel editing month at least try to join the flocks of writers who will do the December dash!

I doubt I'll get to join in December too. There is far too much prep for Christmas to be done. Over 19 small ornaments to make and lots of stuff to bake. Plus I am finishing my current novel  

[Snow Fox]

rats! Ah well. Good luck to you though. Cooking and decorating sprints!