The Confabulator Cafe

Author: tboone

  • Faith Failures (and recoveries)

    NaNoWriMo 2013 is about to draw to a close, and in a few hours I’ll be putting another notch in my belt. Nine years, nine wins. Not bad, eh?

    This year was definitely a challenge. I really fought to stay motivated. I’ve already discussed the fact that I have quite a few very legitimate distractions this year, but to be honest, I don’t think my personal life played that much of a role in my struggles.

    I think I lost faith in my own writing.

    Anyone who pursues creative ventures, whether it’s painting, or music, or writing, knows exactly what I’m talking about. At some point during the creative process, you start to think, “I can’t do this.”

    And it’s not just about the current work in progress. We all know that NaNo manuscripts, or “zero drafts” as we affectionately call them, aren’t usually very good.

    No, it’s more of a complete loss of belief in your ability to pursue whatever creative art you’re currently struggling to complete: “I can’t write. Not now. Not before. Not ever. I am not able to do this. This is no longer for me.”

    I don’t usually entertain these types of thoughts very often, luckily. But this year, it’s been a month-long struggle. “This story isn’t any good. It’s a sequel to a story that isn’t particularly good. Maybe none of those stories are good? Maybe I need to stop doing this.”

    I know that Faith Failures happen. They are part of the process, and they are typically transitory. So I soldiered on, as much to lead by (poor) example as to succeed in my own goals. But I wasn’t feeling very good about it.

    Luckily, our region does a fun exercise during our TGIO party: we read aloud excerpts that are submitted anonymously, and then try to guess the author. So last night I decided to review this year’s manuscript to try to scrape together a few paragraphs that might suit for TGIO. And I realized (as I always do, but never seem to remember): “This isn’t all that bad. And here, here, and here? These spots are really quite good!

    Some years you’re on a rich vein of gold. Some years you’re panning for a few nuggets. Or maybe even slivers. But the lesson I have to come back to is: you can’t find the gold if you’re not looking.

    And I always find gold. Some years more, some years less. But always some. And it doesn’t take much at all to renew my faith, for at least one more year.

    Goodbye NaNoWriMo 2013. NaNoWriMo 2014, I’ll see you soon.

  • Leading by [poor] example

    Every year I find that I challenge my local WriMos to do things the right way, despite the fact that their ML (that’s me) doesn’t.

    “Turn off your inner editor!” I tell them, while continually editing, revising, and amending my writing from the previous day, hour, minute.

    “Write quickly. Just let it flow!” I agonize over every word. (I’m renowned for writing 67 words during a 15 minute sprint. Believe me, that’s not far from the norm for me)

    “It’s never too late! Don’t panic if you fall behind!” As I race forward as rapidly as possible, utterly terrified of falling behind in my word count.

     

    This year, I find myself in a very strange position. I’m still up to my usual tricks—constant editing, plodding daily progress, panic at the idea of not finishing with at least a few days buffer.

    But.

    I AM behind. Or barely ahead. It depends on the day. I have no buffer.

    I HAVE turned off part of my inner editor. I still tweak words and phrases. But there are major plotlines that are wrong in my story, and…I haven’t gone back to fix them yet.

    Now that’s peculiar, especially for me.

    I’ve also had my very first epiphany day, which usually strikes much earlier in the process. Last night I managed to dream up some very clever ideas for my story, for both things already written, and things yet to hit the screen.

    But unlike other years, I haven’t done anything with the ideas for revision other than wake up, write down copious notes (make sure you have a way of recording your sleepy ideas during NaNoWriMo. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve woken up, thought, “Eureka!” and then fallen back to sleep, only to wake the next morning with the brilliant idea gone). I’ve not added those ideas. I trust that they’ll be added eventually. But for now, I’m letting them marinate for a bit. I’m staying the course, writing forward, and resisting the urge to fix what’s already done.

    I seem to be following my own advice, at least a tiny little bit. It feels very, very odd. Freeing. Frustrating. Different. But not necessary wrong.

    And it only took nine years to get to this point.

    Who knows? By my 20th year of NaNoing, maybe I’ll be letting punctuation and spelling errors slip past as I type pure stream of consciousness at one-hundred-plus words per minute.

    Yeah, right!

  • Slogfest

    Slogfest (or: 13,470 Words Written, Each One a Challenge)

    Sometimes inspiration just isn’t there. Anyone who pursues a creative project knows that some days (heck, MOST days) the inspiration to create is completely missing from the equation. And even when we’re inspired, we’re not necessarily motivated. That’s where I am so far this year.

    I have an interesting idea for my story this year. Good, overarching concepts, interesting twists and turns for my characters, some fantastic new settings, some “big idea” high-falutin’ philosophical themes to tackle, and more. But forcing myself to write every day is just that: forcing myself to write my required daily words.

    I have some valid excuses, perhaps more than any other NaNoWriMo in the past. For those that don’t know, this year I am:

    • getting divorced
    • still cohabitating (peacefully, but still) with my soon-to-be-ex.
    • trying to sell our house
    • prepping a brand new course for spring
    • writing a sequel to my favorite, most marketable manuscript

    So, no pressure. No stress. Right?

    😉

    Look, I’m not complaining. Really, I’m not. The words are coming. Often at 11:30pm each night, just under the wire. But they are coming. And they’re not bad. They’re not brilliant, but the bones of the story are forming up nicely. I’ve made some interesting discoveries, introduced some twists even I didn’t see coming. I’m having fun.

    But it’s a forced fun. Which is…odd. Like having ice cream shoved into your mouth: you like it, even though you didn’t put it there.

    Okay, that wasn’t a good analogy. You see what I mean by not being inspired/motivated? Yeah, there we go.

    I’m hoping for a better post for next week. Maybe the light bulb will go off! Maybe the rocket will be lit, and off I’ll go! But even if not, I promise I’ll have between 37,000 words written when next I post.

    That’s NaNoWriMo. Good, bad…whatever.

  • Value Proposition

    Here’s why NaNoWriMo is so important to me: today I did not feel like writing.

    That’s not an unusual day. In fact, out of the 365 days in a year, I’d say that ~300 are days that I do not feel like writing. And out of those ~300 days, at least half (and probably a lot more) are days where I don’t write, because I don’t feel like writing.

    But during November? The fact that I don’t feel like writing doesn’t matter.

    I’m going to write today. I’m writing right now. I’ve finished 1,000 of my requisite 2,000 words/day (I’m a minor overachiever this year), and after I finish posting this brief entry to Confabulator, I will go back to complete the other 1,000 words.

    Do I want to? Nope. Still not at all in the mood. I’d rather be doing something else.

    But NaNoWriMo gives me freedom.

    I know, it probably seems like it’s the exact reverse, right? Freedom would be allowing myself to choose: write or don’t write. Right?

    Wrong.

    Freedom, in this case, is rising above something small–like reluctance, or self-loathing, or ennui, or a bad day, or a silly distraction–to focus upon something that is much more important. Something that will enrich my life in the long term. Something that will make me proud, and provide a sense of accomplishment. Something that I’ve always wanted, but never gotten, until NaNoWriMo set me free.

    This year, like the last eight years of my life, I’ll write a novel. Despite myself, I’ll achieve that goal, one more time.

    And it will be glorious.

    NaNoWriMo is like a personal trainer, forcing you to battle past hurdles that seem insurmountable, so that you can become stronger, leaner, faster. And, afterwards, you’re given an entirely different perspective on the hurdles that were preventing you from succeeding in the first place, and you can recognize how trivial and silly they were in the first place.

    NaNoWriMo lifts me to a higher place. It forces me to prioritize one goal above all others, and pursue that goal relentlessly until I achieve it.

    That’s why NaNoWriMo is important.

  • Backwards, Forwards

    Disclaimer: Given I’m always late on my submissions, I get to peek to see what everyone else is doing during the weekly assignments. I see that many folks are looking at all of the various assignments and weighing in on the entire body of work that is Confabulator. I, however, originally thought the question posed to us was intended to focus upon only our own postings, so that’s all I originally looked at while working up my answer. As a consequence, my musings below may seem a bit egotistical. That’s not at all the case. I get at least as much enjoyment and food for thought from my fellow contributors as I get from my own efforts.

    I like this assignment. It encouraged me to go back through the last year of Confabulator posts and revisit them, which allowed me to recognize how much insightful commentary and inventive fiction we’ve generated as a group during the last twelve months. It’s pretty damn impressive. (more…)

  • Saint Nick o’ Time

    Living Room — Christmas Eve, 1980

    I sweep my flashlight across the bounty of gift-wrapped packages, searching for one particular box. I’m careful not to step on the squeaky floor boards next to the tree. I know each of them by heart. I pick up boxes, checking labels, gauging weight and size. I’m careful to put each box back in the exact same spot it occupied before. Leave no evidence.

    This isn’t my first rodeo. Pre-Christmas snooping is an art form, and I’m a virtuoso.

    I don’t see it.

    I start my second search, but my heart is sinking. Could I be missing it, somehow? I know the dimensions of the box by heart. I’ve picked it up and stared at the box art more times than I can count. I’d recognize it if I saw it, even beneath gaudy Christmas wrapping paper. (more…)

  • A REAL Writer’s Wish List

    More time.

    More focus.

    More energy.

    More enthusiasm.

    A generous, consistent muse.

    (more…)

  • Energizer Bunny

    Funny thing about this year’s NaNo? I’m still going.

    Last week I wrote about the abrupt stop of the NaNo train. That happened, just as predicted. But I seem to have jumped off, unscathed, and still on my feet. Granted, the first of December wasn’t my best day: I went backwards more than two thousand words, fixing terrible, terrible writing I’d done earlier in November). But since then I’ve kept up a slow but steady forward pace of my own, averaging roughly 500-1000 words a day.

    Some of that is due to the fact that, surprisingly, I really like this year’s story. I wasn’t expecting that. I went into this year’s season without much enthusiasm; I didn’t really think my idea or my characters would pan out. But now my gut is telling me I might be wrong. And more importantly, it’s telling me that I owe it to myself and my story to see it through to the end.

    (more…)

  • December Friction

    November 30th. The last hours of NaNoWriMo are upon us.

    Today’s a rough day for me. I’m doing my best to cheer on my WriMos and get as many across the finish line as possible. That part’s fun, and rewarding. I love my job as an ML. But personally? It’s tough. Not because of today, but because of tomorrow.

    December 1st is always a lesson in the Newtonian laws of motion.

    Right now, I feel like I’m leaning out of a train car that’s hurtling forward at an ungodly speed. Up ahead, I know the train is going to stop. Abruptly. Absolutely. Violently.

    I’m watching the ground go by in a blur, and I’m thinking, If I don’t jump off, I’m going to come to an abrupt, absolute, violent stop. Ouch.

    But then I think, If I do jump off, just how fast can my little bitty legs carry me? Without the support of the runaway train, how far can I go? How fast? Can my little engine possibly compete with the full speed locomotive of NaNoWriMo?

    What if I stumble? If I fall down? Will I get back up? If I somehow manage to keep my footing, and keep moving forward, for how long? What if I finally pause to take a breath, and realize that standing still feels pretty good?

    November is all about gaining momentum via the surge of other writers all doing the same thing as you. Giving you an excuse to ignore all other distractions for thirty days and focus on just one thing: writing.

    But once November’s over? Boy, does the party end quickly. The forums become ghost towns and everyone realizes, “I need to get back to other things! Writing isn’t the only thing in my life!” It’s not just a lack of wind behind your sails. It’s turning the sea to cement, the air to molasses, the will to write sapped to nearly nothing.

    Ugh. Tough to keep going when November passes, and the December Friction descends.

    Here’s to hoping. I have a lot of story left to tell.

    I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.

  • Pantsing Rules!

    Pantsing. Outside of NaNo, it’s not a word you hear in the common vernacular. I looked it up on Urban Dictionary while writing this post, and the definitions you find there are not what I mean. At all.

    During November, Pantsing is short for, “By the seat of my pants,” which means you’re writing your story with little to no plan, allowing your characters and plot to evolve minute by minute, word by word. (an aside: the phrase is apparently rooted in aviation history. Huh! The more you know!)

    I am not a planner. I am also not a pantser. I’m a middle-of-the-road kinda guy, as previously discussed here on Confabulator. If I plan too much, I lose momentum. But if I don’t plan enough, I lose direction. So I dance down the razor’s edge between the two, and see how things turn out.

    My point for this week is that when pantsing works? It’s fucking awesome. Head-exploding, Bill-and-Ted/Jeff Spicoli kind of awesome.Here’s my example from this year’s story:

    Early, I wanted to describe digging through data in an interesting, visual way. Writing SQL queries does not exactly make for interesting fiction. The first idea that struck me was to describe things as a caver, or spelunker. So, I did. My data miners dive into caves of data, and use their spelunking tools to find interesting tidbits of information amongst the various dross of data.

    Not bad.

    Then I thought, how else can I visualize data? Specifically taking encrypted data and decrypting it?

    Weavers.

    The word hit me, and I typed it. Who are the Weavers? How do they work? I had no idea. Not when I typed it.

    Later, it turned out the Weavers are humans that have gene-modded themselves for low-gravity environments: long, thin limbs, big eyes, thumbs-on-feet kinda thing. And their computers use fiber optic cables stretched across vast chambers. The Weavers, floating in zero-gee, constantly rearrange the fiber optic strands to produce different programs in the computer, much like the original computers. They “weave” their programs.

    It’s totally ridiculous and inefficient, but who cares? The imagery is pretty cool.

    With me so far?

    Okay, so an overarching idea in this year’s story is that one of my original Martian settlers takes it upon himself to create huge, incredibly elaborate alien artifacts. The first is so convincingly crafted, scientists and experts completely fall for it. More artifacts are discovered, and humanity’s all: “Awesome! Totally awesome!” Some humans are so excited about the findings, they…genetically engineer themselves to look like the aliens that must’ve created the artifacts in the first place. Weavers.

    Bing! Headsplosion!

    Eventually, the hoax is revealed. Most people are rightfully pissed off. The Weavers, however, embrace their new forms. They even retrofit one of the fake artifacts and create a working Weaver computer.

    One used by my main character to decrypt a super-secret message.

    A message that might prove that her father, the hoaxer that created the fake artifacts, wasn’t responsible for all the artifacts after all.

    That one artifact, in particular, might be real.

    WHOA.

    That, my friends, is the magic of pantsing.