NaNo, NaNas, NaNat & the university dilemma
So I supposed to be reading Book Nineteen (not XIX) of the Iliad, but I'm fond of procrastination and so I decided to read Banania's blog instead. And I found her NaNo Response, and duly remembered that I said I'd write one too. Do you remember, Bana-knee-uh? We were walking back from that Starbucks writing thing? No? Okay then.
Dear NaNoWriMo,
I wrote a novel in a month. Well. That's sort of a lie. I wrote 30,000 words in a month. I haven't wrapped up all the subplots, or even the main one, really, but that's not the point. The point is that I wrote 30,000 words in less than 30 days (I started almost a week late). The point is that I sat on a bed in a faraway B&B and typed till my fingers bruised instead of eating dinner because we were going to see an HM play and I knew I wouldn't write after I came home. The point is that I didn't go to bed at a reasonable hour for a month, that I skipped Writer's Craft to write at a coffee shop (well...), that I made up a really weird world and grew to hated it but kept talking about it till I maybe sort of kind of loved it.
To Maddigator and Jakey bear, Euterpe's Kensington, the Doctors and the Therapists, and intravenous Optimism: we did it!
PS: My story-slash-novel-slash-book-slash-November-from-hell-project is about a girl who meets her brother while at the Centre for Dead Dreams and Wasted Potential. It includes alliterative names, bicycle accidents, sour cherry pie and two-hour-long bubble baths.
-
On a completely unrelated note, quite a lot of us were at U of T's Language Conference today. I quite enjoyed it, though there were to UTS students and I couldn't bring myself to talk to the girl who was sitting all alone at lunch.
My first workshop was about Cultures in Contact. You could hear the capitalizations. It was all right, I suppose. We talked about Italians, Canadians and Italo-Canadians. Veddy exciting. Lessons learned: you can't order a coffee with milk in the afternoon in Italy; Galileo's surname was Galilei, and Toronto has more Italians than Florence. Interesting, but I can't see myself enrolling in U of T's Italian Studies program. But I knew that. Then there was an Old English workshop, which I enjoyed more. Lots of Beowulf and derivatives and riddles and yum.
But most memorable were the keynote address and my final workshop, both by the Provost of Trinity College. He's amazing! He knows four million languages and is funny and British and awesome and I'm almost tempted to go to U of T. But no. I want to do the residence thing, and it's a waste of money to do that in the city where I live. I'm thinking Gilly-Mac in Montry.
I thoroughly enjoyed that last workshop... We talked about Latin and linguistics and riddles and derivatives and diagrams of the mouth and the evolution of Latin and why the plural of man is men.
This is brilliantly babble-filled. I doubt anyone will actually read this.
Anyhow. Hugs from the Tiber Valley nonetheless! :)
xo
Dear NaNoWriMo,
I wrote a novel in a month. Well. That's sort of a lie. I wrote 30,000 words in a month. I haven't wrapped up all the subplots, or even the main one, really, but that's not the point. The point is that I wrote 30,000 words in less than 30 days (I started almost a week late). The point is that I sat on a bed in a faraway B&B and typed till my fingers bruised instead of eating dinner because we were going to see an HM play and I knew I wouldn't write after I came home. The point is that I didn't go to bed at a reasonable hour for a month, that I skipped Writer's Craft to write at a coffee shop (well...), that I made up a really weird world and grew to hated it but kept talking about it till I maybe sort of kind of loved it.
To Maddigator and Jakey bear, Euterpe's Kensington, the Doctors and the Therapists, and intravenous Optimism: we did it!
PS: My story-slash-novel-slash-book-slash-November-from-hell-project is about a girl who meets her brother while at the Centre for Dead Dreams and Wasted Potential. It includes alliterative names, bicycle accidents, sour cherry pie and two-hour-long bubble baths.
-
On a completely unrelated note, quite a lot of us were at U of T's Language Conference today. I quite enjoyed it, though there were to UTS students and I couldn't bring myself to talk to the girl who was sitting all alone at lunch.
My first workshop was about Cultures in Contact. You could hear the capitalizations. It was all right, I suppose. We talked about Italians, Canadians and Italo-Canadians. Veddy exciting. Lessons learned: you can't order a coffee with milk in the afternoon in Italy; Galileo's surname was Galilei, and Toronto has more Italians than Florence. Interesting, but I can't see myself enrolling in U of T's Italian Studies program. But I knew that. Then there was an Old English workshop, which I enjoyed more. Lots of Beowulf and derivatives and riddles and yum.
But most memorable were the keynote address and my final workshop, both by the Provost of Trinity College. He's amazing! He knows four million languages and is funny and British and awesome and I'm almost tempted to go to U of T. But no. I want to do the residence thing, and it's a waste of money to do that in the city where I live. I'm thinking Gilly-Mac in Montry.
I thoroughly enjoyed that last workshop... We talked about Latin and linguistics and riddles and derivatives and diagrams of the mouth and the evolution of Latin and why the plural of man is men.
This is brilliantly babble-filled. I doubt anyone will actually read this.
Anyhow. Hugs from the Tiber Valley nonetheless! :)
xo