Nanowrimo Plan

I have started a Nanowrimo journal and have built an outline which includes the first chapter of the book. The novel is well on its way to completion and I haven't even started writing yet! Awesome.

Things I have found that are really working:

• Work on the outline or journal about the book a little bit every day
• Talk to someone about the story every day
• Base the characters and personalities on people I know - this really helps with preparation. The characters are still mine but I can base them on aspects of personalities I really understand rather then having to create them myself.
  

How will this help me with Ballard?
A friend asked me if taking Nanowrimo will de-rail me from Ballard. That danger is real, I have enjoyed the break from Ballard but I fully plan on finishing it so I need to plan for a return once Nanowrimo is over. What will help me with Ballard is the writing practice. I was writing Ballard in a completely non-linear way that was making the story confusing even to me, by practicing some outlining structure I can order some of that mess and build some stories behind it. Plus since my friend challenged me to complete it I have to return to it. :) Thank you Augusto.

The Void and the Darkness

Yesterday after analysing my resistance to writing I dialed back my committment and added Ballard to my daily list to appear every two days. My Ballard writing will be a vague committment; the item on the list is just titled Ballard with no explanation.
When reviewing the list this morning around 5:00, I came upon Ballard, hesitated for a moment, and opened a word document and started typing. Here is what the story revealed today:

I often wondered what was down there. I had been to the bridge uncountable times throughout my youth and looked down into the crevice between the two points of Macan Mount and thought to myself, “What lurks in darkness like that? What lurks in places where mist mingled with darkness creates a feeling of dread that that would cause one to hesitate, to linger on the wood and metal lattice known as Acrocia cross.

I thought about the void, the void in my mind seemed to grow bigger every day and I became aware of it more and more often. Today, while crossing, the horses grew nervous as they often did, which caused the carriage to slow. I lifted my head from my doze and peered out the window into the dark expanse and thought about the void. While the depths of the crevice were black and filled with smoky mist the void was bright and barren, while no light source existed there, it was still bright, bright as light. And the biggest difference, was the longing; while the dread pushes me farther and farther away from the darkness, the light of the void calls to me, pulling me in to the comfort; the comfort of…nothing.

My current writing status

I haven't written any of Ballard in 6 days. Is this a failure? No, I had tried to write every day but it was never a committment and never a bair mininum. Now it is time to pull back a little bit, write about some other things and keep the ball rolling, I am just in the phase where I am slowly rolling the ball down the hill from the front keeping it from going crazy down the hill and crashing something and trying not to let it roll over me at the same time.

What do you do when you are slowing down a bit? Not quite a block but more of a lull.

Just another old house

The Acrocia Estate is old, from the outside it seems like a relatively normal mansion; a lavish and well designed mansion yes but normal. On the inside…ooooh boy, on the inside it feels like it goes on forever. Don’t get me wrong it isn’t mystical or anything…well I don’t think it is anyway but the tiny looking ancient house has long lush corridors, winding staircases that feel like they can reach to the stars and ancient catacomb like tunnels that reach deep into the earth. Well, it felt that way when I was six anyway, now it was just a old house with sky rocketing bills and more work to be done then my miserable old grandfather and myself can handle.

The Bargain

Emily looked out into the darkness. They were finished here tonight but what would happen? Would it work? And more importantly would they get caught?

She looked back to the South end of the bridge which they had come from hoping that no one was out tonight, that no one had seen them.

“We are alone sweetie.” Tracy’s voice said from behind her. Emily turned around to see Tracy bent far over the edge of the bridge as if to make sure he was gone for good. “Don’t worry pet, we won’t have to worry about his type no more.”

Emily digested the words and formed a smile. “No more”. She couldn’t believe it had finally happened; were they finally rid of him? She looked to her companion; she stared as Tracy pulled herself up from the edge of the bridge and threw her nest of hair behind her. She watched intently as Tracy adjusted her clothes and brought herself up into a stance of authority.

She sometimes wondered where Tracy’s strength came from. Especially now, after what they did, she was a panicky wreck, looking around, tapping her feet; her heart was beating with the force of an elephant hitting the ground from a fall from the top of the grand canyon.

But Tracy, Tracy was calm. Calm as she straightened up. Calm as she lit her cigarette. Calm as she stood and smoked; each breath making her taller and more powerful filling her with the strength Emily sorely needed throughout her life. She even remained calm as she got ready to put out her cigarette on Emily’s arm.

Next part in Ballard - Introducing Tracy

I am enjoying writing these smatterings of story on the blog; I hope it is an interesting format and I will definitely consider requests so please leave comments.

“Tracy, wake up!” said Emily with a panicked tone. My mother will be furious if she finds you napping down her. Tracy pulled her face up from the felt chair in front of her.

“How long was I asleep?” she said groggily as she felt the imprint the fabric had left on her face. Tracy let her eyes adjust to the light and surveyed the old theatre. From this perspective the open theatre with its red chairs and red ceiling looked like a grotesque toothless mouth threatening to chomp down on her at any time; she felt the imprint on her face again and decided that it already tried to while she was asleep.

“I have no idea” explained Tracy “but it had to have been a while for you to get kissed by that chair the way you did. You look like a mess!”

“Thanks” Tracy uttered in an annoyed tone. She felt like her body had been pushed between two rollers and got jammed up somewhere along the way but she did find the will to stand. She did her best to fix her long, tangled, black hair but as usual nothing she did seemed to help so she threw it behind her as one long stream of tangled curls.

“You have to get out of here!” yelled Emily. “My mom will be home soon and if she finds you here I will end up looking worse than you."

“Listen here you little bitch” Tracy said through clenched teeth “Don’t think for a second I care what your Mom does to you and don't forget, you owe me”

Defeated, Emily shifted her gaze to the ground and shuffled her feet, she couldn’t win against Tracy this time but on the bright side, at least she didn’t have to deal with Ballard today.

Tracy Describes Ballard

Tracy describes Ballard:

Ballard stands tall, I am not going to state an exact height because that is meaningless to your perspective, instead I am going to describe him as tall. He is taller then you but not as tall as the tallest person you know. He dresses flashier then you but in a tasteful way that denotes his confidence. I have often catch him staring into space and wonder what great thoughts could be important enough to capture his attention for that long. I hate him and will see him dead some day.

Have I been writing?

Have I been writing?
no
Is this true? Absolutely not! but it is my first answer. Why? If I told anyone who knows me well that I haven't been writing they would disagree with me right away. They would say, "What do you mean you aren't writing?", and would be probably wave there hands up in frustration as they said it. They would continue with, "you have been writing regularly in your blogs, your journals, your e-mails, and who knows what else but you say you aren't writing! why on earth would you say something as ridiculous as that?"
"Because I am not", would be my quick answer but the truth is sometimes I feel like I am not. Is this true? no, it comes from my lack of confidence, faith in my self, and lack of knowledge in what I really want. It comes from resistance, and the idea that in order to be happy I need to be working on my book, which I haven't been but why?
Without thinking about it I would say that it is a writers block or I have have been procrastinating because of fear of the unknown, critisism, self expression, self awareness etc but all of that is bull.
It is because I don't have clear next actions set, I don't have structures in place to make working on my book automatic as I do for my blogs, journals, e-mails etc so it is time. Ballard (my main character in my current novel) is being added to my !daily list. The goal will be to write at least 1 sentence about Ballard or about his activity.

A new excerpt - A near trip into the void.

It felt good to get a small bit of writing done tonight. Just a clip of something new but it is interesting to me so I will write into it every onece in a while.

Ballard opened the wooden door to the study hoping to see the one he would ultimately marry but unfortunately it was bare. Bare wasn’t the word, as it was gone; completely absent from the world, from the universe. He looked out upon a blank slate as if the world were erased leaving nothing but blank canvas. Canvas might not have been the best word as this area of space where the study of the Acrocia mansion was, was now completely empty, he looked out thorough the doorway to a barren field of white as if he was looking out through a portal into another world.

He closed his eyes and prepared to step into the void when he felt a hand upon his shoulder. “Ballard old boy!” the voice exclaimed. Ballard opened his eyes only to see the view of the study before him, him with one foot in the entryway and one foot into what was...nothing. He shook his head around only to see the jolly mustachioed grin of Elden Acrocia.

“Ballard it is good to see you!” exclaimed Elden. “Are you here to see Emily?”
Ballard, still jostled by his experience with the nothingness he was about to step into merely nodded and grunted a “uhhuh”. Emily was the reason he came here, the only reason he would ever come to this place.

“Well I am sorry my friend but she is not here. She hasn’t been here for a few days.” Said Elden

“What!?”, said Ballard “not here?, that’s impossible I left her here yesterday!”
Elden wrinkled his brow in frustration, “That can’t be my friend, she is visiting her brother and has been absent from the estate since Tuesday. If you like I can ring her for you.”

Ballard shook his head, if this is the case he wouldn’t want anyone to think he was losing it. “Well I must be thinking of last week, the late nights I have been working are taking their toll on me I guess.”

“Well you are always welcome to use the guest bed my friend, will you be staying?”

“No, not tonight Elden I will have to pass, much to do as usual.” Ballard shook Elden’s hand and left to his car.