NaNoWriMo: I Laughed, I Cried, It Became a Part of Me

Ok, so here's the dealio. I just wrote the last word in my NaNoWriMo project. Final word count? 50,046. More than a week ahead of schedule. It just got to a point where it was writing itself. I couldn't stop it.

I laughed, I cried, it became a part of me.

I laughed when I looked at some of the things I'd typed. One or two of them were even supposed to be funny. Many of them were not.

I cried when I looked at some of the things I'd typed. One or two of them were even supposed to be sad. Many of them were not.

It became a part of me. I learned lessons that will stay with me for a long time, if not forever. I learned:

Discipline. I don't know what I'm going to do tomorrow morning when I sit down at my computer in the early morning hours when the house is still dark. (Yes I do. I'll catch up on all the blog reading I've been missing out on. See ya in the morning!) It will feel odd not to open that document and power through with the story. I have been very faithful to it. I have written the alotted amount of words every morning whether I wanted to or not. It wasn't a choice. A lot of crap was written utilizing this method, but I didn't stop or give up when I hit a glitch. That was cool. And very unlike me. I can weed out the crap in the editing process. If I'd quit, it would just be over.

Humility. What I've written - at this point - is not something that I would want to read. That is not false modesty. I was at the library the other day looking for a book. As I read back covers and rejected titles based on what was written there - scoffed at them even - I realized that I would reject a back cover description of my own book - I mean, project - just as quickly. I can't say I dug that feeling.

Respect. Another thing I realized was that every genre deserves respect - even the genres I'd never had much respect for before. Sex scenes are hard to write. Real live work goes into all of it. Even bodice rippers. Even romances. All of it. I may not want to read it - but I'll never scoff again. I'll never dismiss anything as silly fluffy or worthless again. Just because I don't want to read it doesn't make it crap. Writing is hard work and writers deserve respect.

I thought about starting the editing process tomorrow, but I ultimately decided against it. I'm going to let it sit until December 1 and begin editing then as planned. I'll probably be more objective with a little time between me and the story. Who knows? By January or February this hot buttered mess may actually evolve into something I'd like to read. (I'm not holding my breathe. But it could happen...)

All in all, I loved this experience. I put out over 50,000 words in a more or less linear story. I did it in 21 days. Not a lot of people can make that claim and - although I'm not (yet) proud of the product, I wouldn't have traded the process for anything. I'm already plotting for next November...

Let's Talk About Sex, Baby

Last week I told you about a little present I bought myself for completing my first week of NaNoWriMo. This week I deserve (but probably can't afford to indulge in) a much bigger present than an old CD. Several milestones were hit this week. I passed the halfway point, according to NaNoWriMo standards, and I passed it two days early. Oh, don't bother! I'll go ahead and pat myself on the back as soon as my hands are free from tooting my own horn. But that wasn't my biggest accomplishment. Oh no. My biggest accomplishment occurred yesterday. I wrote my very first ever completely fictional sex scene.

I've told a few of you in private notes that the coolest part of this whole project for me has been that after a couple days, the characters sort of started leading me rather than me leading them. They let me know what they needed to do and I wrote the words that made them do it. I'd certainly heard about this phenomenon before, but I never thought it would happen to me. (Should that last sentence have been prefaced by: Dear Penthouse? It sort of seems like it should have...) Well, this week two of my characters started leading me down a path that most definitely needed to result in a roll in the hay for them (roll, roll, roll in ze hay). I told Tom Wednesday, "I think my characters are going to do it tomorrow." I put it like that because I didn't want to waste all my valuable word-smithin' on a conversation with my husband, who would probably be just as happy if I didn't talk at all. As the day went by and I got closer to my writing time, I started trying to think of ways to get out of it (and for my gentlemen readers - isn't that just like a woman?) Maybe they could just start to make out and then one of them could get a very important phone call. Maybe they could just start to make out and then he would stop things to reveal a congenital disorder that made sex impossible but he sure would like to cuddle all night. Maybe they could just start to make out and that would trigger her hormones and make her period start. It could happen. But no. None of those things were what my characters wanted to do. What they wanted to do was 'it'. I'd made the bed and now I was going to have to lie in it - or - um - let them get laid in it.

So yesterday morning I did it. Well, I wrote it, they did it. And I'll tell you what, folks, if actually having sex took as long as writing about having sex did, we'd all feel like we were married to Sting, if you know what I mean, and I suspect that you do. I labored over it. It was torturous. I wanted it to be hot without crossing the line into pornographic. This is hard! (that's what she said) I didn't want it to be raunchy, but I didn't want it to be sappy. I wanted a potential reader to be a little warm after reading it - maybe even to have broken a little sweat - but I didn't want them to feel like they needed a shower. I have no idea if I accomplished this or not. As of this moment I'm pleased with what I came up with. I am also certain beyond the shadow of any doubt that some would find it too tame and some would find it too wild. You can't please everyone, so you've got to please yourself. So to speak.

You may or may not have noticed that I was missing from my usual blog rounds yesterday. Writing this short passage took all of my alotted computer time and a little more. Plus, my brain was zapped. My writing is usually very 'stream of consciousness'. That scene was work.

Am I going to let you read it? Not anytime soon! It's not ready for the light of day. Besides, what would a post about sex be without a little tease?