"Freakish"
Nov. 1st, 2004 11:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elfsI took today and tomorrow off. Today so I could sit in a cafe for a few hours and see if there was anything in me to write about, something that I could put together for NaNoWriMo. Tomorrow so I could play driver for Omaha, who's going to be a local election monitor for her party and who's going to be coordinating getting people to the polls.
So, today, I went down to a cafe and hammered out some words in about four hours. And they're pretty good. I've got a protagonist, a sidekick, a villain, the villain's sidekicks, an unknown assailant, a dead girl and a bereaved father, an Inquisitor, and God all working together.
One of the things I've noticed about historical fiction-- and by that I mean good historical fiction, of the kind written by Dunnett or O'Brian, is that it is busy. The people in extruded fantasy seem to loll about all day until something happens, but in the real world people are in motion constantly, doing things, and that was as true in the fifteenth century as it is today. Towns, indeed whole Duchys, were frequently seperated by no more than thirty or forty miles, and American writers are frequently clueless about how dense Rennaisance Europe really was. I'm clueless about many things, but I've got a grip on just how dynamic the world was before the advent of electricity and steam. It was all human-powered, and it was impressive all the same. I'm trying to get that flavor, that sense that people in power knew hundreds of others, and used that web of relation and reputation to build their own fortunes.
I went this evening to the NaNoWriMo Monday-Night Write In. I hope to do the same again in two weeks. And when I got there, I sat down with six others, and opened up my laptop. Someone asked, "What are you up to?" just as I sat down with a tea.
"You go first." So we went around the table: 300; 1,000; 1,100; 800; 500; 200. "So, where are you?"
"Uh, 7,000."
And they stared at me. I made the excuse that I had taken the day off precisely to do that, to get my word count launched, and they still stared at me. I felt bad for a moment, like the kid who's showing off when he should know better.
By the time 10:00 rolled around and the cafe' was closing, two had left and the rest were making headway. The girl with 1,100 had reached 1,700 which is the daily recommended average. "Where are you?" she asked.
"I'm at 8,700."
"Wow, you type fast. Is there a plot, or are you, you know, just kinda doing it like Kerouac, blah blah blah until a story comes out somewhere?"
I said that I had a story, and characters, and was getting somewhere. I had dead bodies and mourning and stuff and the hint of torture to come. But still, I recalled a friend of mine who said I was "freakishly fast" when I had a clear story idea and a resolution in mind.
So, today, I went down to a cafe and hammered out some words in about four hours. And they're pretty good. I've got a protagonist, a sidekick, a villain, the villain's sidekicks, an unknown assailant, a dead girl and a bereaved father, an Inquisitor, and God all working together.
One of the things I've noticed about historical fiction-- and by that I mean good historical fiction, of the kind written by Dunnett or O'Brian, is that it is busy. The people in extruded fantasy seem to loll about all day until something happens, but in the real world people are in motion constantly, doing things, and that was as true in the fifteenth century as it is today. Towns, indeed whole Duchys, were frequently seperated by no more than thirty or forty miles, and American writers are frequently clueless about how dense Rennaisance Europe really was. I'm clueless about many things, but I've got a grip on just how dynamic the world was before the advent of electricity and steam. It was all human-powered, and it was impressive all the same. I'm trying to get that flavor, that sense that people in power knew hundreds of others, and used that web of relation and reputation to build their own fortunes.
I went this evening to the NaNoWriMo Monday-Night Write In. I hope to do the same again in two weeks. And when I got there, I sat down with six others, and opened up my laptop. Someone asked, "What are you up to?" just as I sat down with a tea.
"You go first." So we went around the table: 300; 1,000; 1,100; 800; 500; 200. "So, where are you?"
"Uh, 7,000."
And they stared at me. I made the excuse that I had taken the day off precisely to do that, to get my word count launched, and they still stared at me. I felt bad for a moment, like the kid who's showing off when he should know better.
By the time 10:00 rolled around and the cafe' was closing, two had left and the rest were making headway. The girl with 1,100 had reached 1,700 which is the daily recommended average. "Where are you?" she asked.
"I'm at 8,700."
"Wow, you type fast. Is there a plot, or are you, you know, just kinda doing it like Kerouac, blah blah blah until a story comes out somewhere?"
I said that I had a story, and characters, and was getting somewhere. I had dead bodies and mourning and stuff and the hint of torture to come. But still, I recalled a friend of mine who said I was "freakishly fast" when I had a clear story idea and a resolution in mind.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
I've done...
Date: 2004-11-02 04:53 am (UTC)That's a problem, because when I _can't_ get in the groove, it's almost physically painful.
You really ought to come join http://www.evolutionwriters.com -- there are a number of fast writers there.
Impressive, not freakish
Date: 2004-11-02 03:26 pm (UTC)