And I joined because...??
I foolishly joined NaNoWriMo because of ciara__mist, who said she wanted a friend on her NaNo page, and now, as it looms ahead, I'm kind of freaking myself out with the mere fact that I've been writing the same piece of fanfiction for going on two or three weeks, and I'm only on page 4. FOUR. Fuckity fuck fuck.
I decided, for my month of hell and torture, to dig up an old CSI plotbunny I had when I was listening to Decemberists 'The Crane Wife' religiously. But as the days go by and we get closer and closer to start date, my ability to turn this plotbunny into a 50,000 word piece of...literature (really? I highly doubt that) slowly enters my mind and leaves me huddled in a corner quivering and muttering. Like I can actually write 50,000 words that string together as something other than "can't leave the room, the squirrels will eat me".
Then it also hits me that I have no other decent plot lines. At least decent long plot lines. I'm sure if I dug through my folder of misfit fanfic I could find something I could warp into a multi-chaptered novel length story, but it would probably involve a lot of connecting words and a three page description of the drapery. Or it would turn into an IKEA catalogue.
I mean, if I'm having issues getting Jack and Ianto together after breaking them up in a three page experiment in angst, then how in the world can I write 50,000 words of a crime that's already been laid out for me by the wonderful and amazing Colin Meloy?
I should just write 50,000 words of porn.
I decided, for my month of hell and torture, to dig up an old CSI plotbunny I had when I was listening to Decemberists 'The Crane Wife' religiously. But as the days go by and we get closer and closer to start date, my ability to turn this plotbunny into a 50,000 word piece of...literature (really? I highly doubt that) slowly enters my mind and leaves me huddled in a corner quivering and muttering. Like I can actually write 50,000 words that string together as something other than "can't leave the room, the squirrels will eat me".
Then it also hits me that I have no other decent plot lines. At least decent long plot lines. I'm sure if I dug through my folder of misfit fanfic I could find something I could warp into a multi-chaptered novel length story, but it would probably involve a lot of connecting words and a three page description of the drapery. Or it would turn into an IKEA catalogue.
I mean, if I'm having issues getting Jack and Ianto together after breaking them up in a three page experiment in angst, then how in the world can I write 50,000 words of a crime that's already been laid out for me by the wonderful and amazing Colin Meloy?
I should just write 50,000 words of porn.