NaNoWriMo 2007 - Day 10
I'm off to Dan's today for as much scribbling as I can manage. The last time we did this was day 1, where I made a fantastic start, but had all my plot before me which makes it rather easier. This time may be different. As I think I've said elsewhere, I have realised my plot is far too thin for 50,000 words and so have had to embellish it, which is something I find tricky in that it has to be embellished in a way that contributes to the story as a whole. I think I've managed it, and made it much more interesting and exciting as a result. I've made the decision to have the end of the recounted story's chronology come right slap bang up to the start of George doing the jigsaw, which I hope will function well enough. I love those moments in novels where two different situations suddenly inflict themselves on one another. What this means, though, is that (come December) I will have to rework my opening. At the moment it sounds as though George has just come in from somewhere, which isn't quite right now. Easily changed, though, and what better way of convincing oneself that one is serious about revision if the first thing one is going to dicky around with is the opening!
Last night, as I left work, I felt a small amount of discomfort in one of my two feet (you know I have two feet, right?). I put less pressure on it and waited til I got home, assuming I had something in my shoe. Said somethings, and the discomfort, vanished when I removed my shoes so I assumed that whatever it was had fallen off and gone to join the kibble. But padding barefoot across the kitchen the pain returned, so out came the tweezers and a strong light and from mine own flesh I extracted a tiny tiny sliver of glass, no bigger than a piece of glitter.
Behold the serendipity, for glass is broken within the novel and here I was fishing a piece of the stuff out of my body. Coincidence certainly, but the act of removal has somewhere to go in the novel, and brings in some of the weirdness that is finally starting to creep into what I'm writing. I have a character called Elsa who to whom I wanted to give a maintenance task involving my main character, George. Initially she was to shave off the salt and pepper moustache he wears that adds a country decade to his face. This I may keep in, but I realise that the removal of a piece of glass from his foot is much stronger and, because of certain resonances already set up, will add to the suggestion that George and Elsa's friendship is healing him of something. One of my favourite things about writing, and NaNoWriMo specifically, is the way in which you are forced to play magpie with your own life. There is something almost transformative about taking the events that happen to you or to those around you and placing them in a story, to load the chaos that surrounds us with meaning and structure, even if it is an illusion, and its beneficence is merely temporary.
Last night, as I left work, I felt a small amount of discomfort in one of my two feet (you know I have two feet, right?). I put less pressure on it and waited til I got home, assuming I had something in my shoe. Said somethings, and the discomfort, vanished when I removed my shoes so I assumed that whatever it was had fallen off and gone to join the kibble. But padding barefoot across the kitchen the pain returned, so out came the tweezers and a strong light and from mine own flesh I extracted a tiny tiny sliver of glass, no bigger than a piece of glitter.
Behold the serendipity, for glass is broken within the novel and here I was fishing a piece of the stuff out of my body. Coincidence certainly, but the act of removal has somewhere to go in the novel, and brings in some of the weirdness that is finally starting to creep into what I'm writing. I have a character called Elsa who to whom I wanted to give a maintenance task involving my main character, George. Initially she was to shave off the salt and pepper moustache he wears that adds a country decade to his face. This I may keep in, but I realise that the removal of a piece of glass from his foot is much stronger and, because of certain resonances already set up, will add to the suggestion that George and Elsa's friendship is healing him of something. One of my favourite things about writing, and NaNoWriMo specifically, is the way in which you are forced to play magpie with your own life. There is something almost transformative about taking the events that happen to you or to those around you and placing them in a story, to load the chaos that surrounds us with meaning and structure, even if it is an illusion, and its beneficence is merely temporary.
posted by Hamilton's Brain | 8:51 am
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