So I won this year......

 As if you had to ask won what? Won Nanowrimo, of course. November is the month that everything explodes for me, working retail. That, my friends is the worst time to promise to write 50000 words. Like, if I get to work and my underpants aren't on my head its a win. Plus this year my computer died, and, well,  we accidentally elected a Nazi thug to the White House. I mean, this year November was just like living all the other months of this year in four weeks. Right? I know I'm not the only one that felt like.

Yet, it turns out, in spite off all these things, I made my word count. I wrote in my notebook, because my computer was out of commission--though it's fixed now, thank gods. And Brian. But for a couple of weeks there, I was scribbling fragments of things. Just a little bit here and there. I couldn't see my novel,because it wasn't backed up---stop yelling at me! It is now, for sure. But since I couldn't refer back to what I'd done, I think it forced me to think in different directions. It led me places I hadn't planned on going. This was amazing. I began to see the characters as new people. I got interested in what would happen next again. 

I started to type in all the bits the last week, and I was amazed at how many words I had. I realized not only could I make it this year for the first time in years, that I had more things to say now that I had more things down on paper. I had a whole middle part of the novel. 

So I made it. The novel isn't finished, but it's on the path. And while the last month of this year doesn't look like much fun, I have this one small piece of life that is moving forward. And it's headed somewhere that I'm looking forward to going. The bad guys will be punished, the good guys will live happy. I can see it coming, and it's something I can look forward to. The world's still a mess, but my world, the one that lives behind my eyes? It's keeping me okay again. Giving me a reason to get through work, and get to the notebook. I'm grateful for that. 

So what happened with your Nano's? Even if you didn't make your word count, what's the thing you're most happy with? Wanna talk about novels? 

This is where I fail

This is the year I flunk out of Nano. Yes, it's true. I like the idea of winning, of pushing through those fifty thousand words and putting them up on the website. There's something so satisfying about seeing the little word counter fill up.
But that won't be happening this year. I've accepted it. I could give excuses. I have work, I have family, and family and family.....  But that's not it.
No, it's that my story wants to do something else. It wants to be more than the simple if A happens, then B will happen and that will cause C story. It wants to require more thinking, and more careful writing. Sigh. Damn it. Careful writing is hard. So I've slowed down. I've added characters. I have even been thinking about putting some of it on this blog for you all to tell me what you think.

Narin unlocked his door and sat down on the couch, reaching for his acoustic guitar. He chorded it softly, fingers just ghosting whispers from the strings. He didn't want this, especially not now.

His fingers wandered to minor chords when he thought of James. He had a darkness all his own that Narin couldn't help wanting to save him from.

He barely noticed his fingers slowing, growing heavy. His eyelids began to close, despite his struggle to keep them open, and the paralysis in his fingers crept through his arms to the rest of his body til he felt as though he was made of stone. No, he thought, just barely able to keep his eyes slitted. The guitar was gently teased from his hands, and his narrow strip of sight was filled with his Lord's razor cut glass features.

It wore a beautiful human glamour. Somewhere in Narin's mind he thought that made perfect sense. It had dressed for the occasion. Narin tried to raise his arm to defend himself, but he couldn’t move now. “Don't.” he forced it out.

It spoke, voice like honey against Narin's skin. “Don't what? Don't hurt you? Don't retrieve my property? Special boy, cleverest pet, I can't do either of these things now.”

Narin saw the colors of it's words change from clover honey to thousand year old amber. His Lord leaned close enough to feel it's breath on his face. Narin tried to struggle, but he couldn't even scream.

So, Nano this year gave e stuff like that. I guess I can't really complain. Let me know what you think.
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Nanowrimo

It's November, and I think we all know what that means. Yes, it's the beginning of the holiday retail season, and Nanowrimo. Two things that I don't really look forward to.

Why not? Well, holiday shopping makes me feel, as Charles De Lint says, "Laid low by an ill will." All I can really do is try not to make it my ill will. This year is my twentieth Christmas at the bookstore and the last few have been killers. But a day job's a day job, right? And if I had to sell shoes, or pet food, how much more awful would it be? At least this way I get to touch books.

And Nano? Well, it's November, isn't it? It's dark when you get up at four am to get your pages in. And cold, actually. So why do it? Because I need to finish things.  Because I need to get stuff done and moving out of my hard drive. Nano makes me crazy because of the pressure of a fake deadline, but it also gives me a goal that's out side of my head.

So let me tell you about my Nano project. Iron Moon. Werewolves and fairies. More later on that.  Because I should really get some words in....  Right?

First of all, it was October, a rare month for boys.

The seller of lightning rods arrived just ahead of the storm. He came along the street of Green Town, Illinois, in the late cloudy October day, sneaking glances over his shoulder. Somewhere not so far back, vast lightnings stomped the earth. Somewhere, a storm like a great beast with terrible teeth could not be denied.

I just realized that this will be the first Halloween without Ray Bradbury, who died earlier this year. I have been thinking about him, because this autumn has been very much like the autumns we used to have. The leave began to flame as soon as October came. I wasn't prepared. Global warming, or climate shift, or both has me almost used to ninety degree temperatures in September, and made snow in winter a rarity.

This fall is different. It's been cold enough, of and on so that I've considered turning the heat on. Yes, you heard me. Heat. We've days and days of leaden skies and cold rains. The wind has knocked the color off the trees and made the front hall of my house moan at night.

At least I hope it's the wind.

We've had a Something Wicked This Way Comes autumn. In the book, Bradbury describes what a mid-western autumn looks like, smells like and feels like perfectly. Fall in this part of the country has a particular kind of light, low and slanted somehow, that makes everything look out of kilter, slightly dangerous. The small town that I grew up in always decorates its block-long Main Street for holidays. This year they tied corn stalks to the street lamps. And to the corn stalks, they tied scarecrows. I parked in front of the coffee shop, and looked up into the eyes of a scarecrow with a potato sack mask painted with a leering jack-o-lantern face, his arms spread wide. I found myself stepping as far out of his reach as I could. It just seemed like good sense.

In that low light, under the overcast sky, I had, just for a second,the feeling that the town was holding its breath, waiting for the storm. Waiting for Mister Dark to come strolling around the corner, carnival in tow.

It was like meeting up with an old friend, anticipation tinged with unease. So, of course, I thought of Ray Bradbury. I always picture him from the beginning of the old Ray Bradbury Theater TV show, in an office full of oddities; Martians and mummies lurking, sitting behind his desk, typing on an actual typewriter. And that's when I remembered, wait, oh no....

So I can't help thinking that this perfect, surreal, creepy fall is entirely for him, just to remind us, to say goodbye.