Nanowrimo 2011: Day 7 / 30
Word count: 1,162
Ever so slightly panicked when I realized it's already Day 7 into the marathon, and I am a terrifying 10,000 words behind schedule. And I just had my plot break-through last night. Aaaaaaaaaahhhhh!!
BUT IT'S OKAY. Breathe. It's not the end of the world. You will not die if you do not hit the 50,000 word limit. (Oh gosh, what a concept.) Do what you can. Don't warp your priorities. And remember to have fun. Always remember to have fun.
That said, I would like to share with you guys a summary of my plot:
Strange things are afoot in the city of Prospero. Amidst its network of ruined towers, ancient cathedrals, and glittering skyscrapers, people old and young are losing their memories. And no one seems to notice - how could they, when they can’t remember otherwise? - except for Mona, a shrewd and feisty thirteen year old with too much time and not enough to do. And then Great Uncle Theodore suddenly dies, and bequeaths to Mona the family lighthouse, which she discovers upon inspection houses a secret denizen: a boy named Carl, with no records, a twisted past, and a golden key. And then there are those strange children, dressed in black, who disappear around corners as soon as you see them, their red sashes fluttering behind them as they vanish…
When an attempt is made on Mona’s life by the black-clad children, Mona flees and seeks Carl’s help. Together, they plunge into the underworld of Prospero, running from an unknown force and seeking answers to questions that no one asks, or can ask - Why are memories disappearing? Why are Mona and Carl the only ones who’ve noticed? Who are those children? And what does this all have to do with a key, the lighthouse, and its mysterious inhabitant?
The tone and atmosphere of the story is dark, futuristic, gothic - very different from the golden hues, warm floor boards, and Old World eeriness I had originally imagined. (Bummer.) But this may be for the better. I don't think the latter world is the sort of stage upon which I can tell the sort of story that I am aiming to tell this year.
Ever so slightly panicked when I realized it's already Day 7 into the marathon, and I am a terrifying 10,000 words behind schedule. And I just had my plot break-through last night. Aaaaaaaaaahhhhh!!
BUT IT'S OKAY. Breathe. It's not the end of the world. You will not die if you do not hit the 50,000 word limit. (Oh gosh, what a concept.) Do what you can. Don't warp your priorities. And remember to have fun. Always remember to have fun.
That said, I would like to share with you guys a summary of my plot:
Strange things are afoot in the city of Prospero. Amidst its network of ruined towers, ancient cathedrals, and glittering skyscrapers, people old and young are losing their memories. And no one seems to notice - how could they, when they can’t remember otherwise? - except for Mona, a shrewd and feisty thirteen year old with too much time and not enough to do. And then Great Uncle Theodore suddenly dies, and bequeaths to Mona the family lighthouse, which she discovers upon inspection houses a secret denizen: a boy named Carl, with no records, a twisted past, and a golden key. And then there are those strange children, dressed in black, who disappear around corners as soon as you see them, their red sashes fluttering behind them as they vanish…
When an attempt is made on Mona’s life by the black-clad children, Mona flees and seeks Carl’s help. Together, they plunge into the underworld of Prospero, running from an unknown force and seeking answers to questions that no one asks, or can ask - Why are memories disappearing? Why are Mona and Carl the only ones who’ve noticed? Who are those children? And what does this all have to do with a key, the lighthouse, and its mysterious inhabitant?
The tone and atmosphere of the story is dark, futuristic, gothic - very different from the golden hues, warm floor boards, and Old World eeriness I had originally imagined. (Bummer.) But this may be for the better. I don't think the latter world is the sort of stage upon which I can tell the sort of story that I am aiming to tell this year.