apologies to Aragorn
I did not come up with this. I totally wish I had.
Brothers! Sisters! I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me! A day may come when the courage of Wrimos fails, when we forsake our novels and break all bonds of word count goals, but it is not this day. An hour of sleep and shattered dreams when the age of novelists come crashing down, but it is not this day! This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you write, Wrimos of the world!
-- shoniru, Knights of Nanowrimo
And I must be cracking up or something, because as I read that I started laughing so hard my eyes got teary and I suddenly remembered that my back hurts.
On Saturday I put on the last camp of the year - the LAST! It was a great way to wrap up the season, too. I've done enough games camps now that I was able to pull everything together despite having spent all of Friday being a sad, useless human being. The weather was unusually gorgeous, the ponies were all relatively docile, and the kids were hilarious. They were all best friends from the moment they arrived and dubbed their two teams the "Feather Friends" and the "Wild Turkeys." No joke. Well, actually, there were lots of jokes. "Hey, are you calling me a bird brain?" "Ya'll may look cute and feathery, but we're the meat and the bones." "You turkey." And so on. Lots of superb photographs were taken (except for the ones with me in them), the teams were so evenly matched that the last race turned out to be the tiebreaker, and I got to watch them all ride a demolition derby of a Sword Race to Ozzy Osbourne's "Crazy Train."
The only bad news is that on that same day, I somehow managed to throw out my back. It HURTS. A lot. And I can't swing my leg up over a horse, which makes everything about ten times worse.
At 41k in the novel, which is alternately terribly exciting and horribly depressing. On one hand, 50k seems very, very close. On the other hand, I now have way too much invested in this ridiculous story. I still don't have a clear idea of how it ends, or how to resolve some major sticky plot points, but what I have written is, for the most part, good. And it's freaking me out a tad. Now I'm taking it way too seriously and feeling like I'm not up to the task at writing my way into the unknown. I need to let my characters do something completely off the wall and crazy. But I can't. Oh dear.
I've also learned that there's a limit to how much Pandora radio you can listen to for free in the space of a month. Have I really spent forty hours this month listening to the Clannad station through my headphones? How can that be possible?
Brothers! Sisters! I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me! A day may come when the courage of Wrimos fails, when we forsake our novels and break all bonds of word count goals, but it is not this day. An hour of sleep and shattered dreams when the age of novelists come crashing down, but it is not this day! This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you write, Wrimos of the world!
-- shoniru, Knights of Nanowrimo
And I must be cracking up or something, because as I read that I started laughing so hard my eyes got teary and I suddenly remembered that my back hurts.
On Saturday I put on the last camp of the year - the LAST! It was a great way to wrap up the season, too. I've done enough games camps now that I was able to pull everything together despite having spent all of Friday being a sad, useless human being. The weather was unusually gorgeous, the ponies were all relatively docile, and the kids were hilarious. They were all best friends from the moment they arrived and dubbed their two teams the "Feather Friends" and the "Wild Turkeys." No joke. Well, actually, there were lots of jokes. "Hey, are you calling me a bird brain?" "Ya'll may look cute and feathery, but we're the meat and the bones." "You turkey." And so on. Lots of superb photographs were taken (except for the ones with me in them), the teams were so evenly matched that the last race turned out to be the tiebreaker, and I got to watch them all ride a demolition derby of a Sword Race to Ozzy Osbourne's "Crazy Train."
The only bad news is that on that same day, I somehow managed to throw out my back. It HURTS. A lot. And I can't swing my leg up over a horse, which makes everything about ten times worse.
At 41k in the novel, which is alternately terribly exciting and horribly depressing. On one hand, 50k seems very, very close. On the other hand, I now have way too much invested in this ridiculous story. I still don't have a clear idea of how it ends, or how to resolve some major sticky plot points, but what I have written is, for the most part, good. And it's freaking me out a tad. Now I'm taking it way too seriously and feeling like I'm not up to the task at writing my way into the unknown. I need to let my characters do something completely off the wall and crazy. But I can't. Oh dear.
I've also learned that there's a limit to how much Pandora radio you can listen to for free in the space of a month. Have I really spent forty hours this month listening to the Clannad station through my headphones? How can that be possible?