Tag Archives: nanowrimo

Weekend sendoff: It’s all NaNoWriM-over now

(At the time of this writing, I still have abut 2700 words to go, but by the middle of Friday I will have wrapped that up so let’s just jump forward to that magical time.) Booyah.

This was fun and tough and sucky and inspirational, and I doubt I’ll ever do it again. Script Frenzy, maybe, but novels are not my thing. So why did I decide to do this? I can’t remember anymore except that it seemed like something I needed to do. And it’s done.

Here’s my last excerpt. I was recreating a call I still remember pretty well from more than ten years ago.

“You think I’m crazy, I don’t give a shit. I know where I was. I know what happened to Marilyn Monroe. You think I’m crazy but they don’t, they know I have a lot to tell about her. I knew her and I knew what was going to happen to her and there was nothing I could do about it. The FBI have a huge file on me. Huge. I was around a lot and knew a lot of people. It wasn’t that unusual. People introduced you to other people. I knew the Beatles before anyone really knew about them aside from a few fans in Liverpool. I almost played drums for them. Yeah, everyone knows about Pete Best but that’s bullshit. I was the fucking fifth Beatle. But that didn’t happen, I wasn’t like broken up about it. Shit, would I have been if I’d known? I dunno. I don’t know if I’d want to end up like they all ended up, fucked up six ways from Sunday from being the biggest thing on the planet. That ain’t sour grapes. I’m not saying I’m better off, fuck no. Paul had to ditch that one-legged wife of his but I’m pretty sure he’s doing okay. I’m just saying, at the time it wasn’t any big deal. And that’s how I met Marilyn Monroe. She had a lot of friends, she needed to talk to people a lot. Or she didn’t have a lot of friends, but she had people she talked to. She talked to me and sister, you have no idea what went on. All those conspiracy guys – well, shit, it’s out there in plain view now about her and Jack Kennedy, but I mean, the really weird stuff that the conspiracy guys talk about, all the drugs and weird sex and gang-rape parties…well, I’m not saying everything I know about all that but I know enough and more. And she didn’t commit suicide any more than I did.”

So I say goodbye to the hotline once again and proceed to quit dogging these blog posts now that December’s almost here. I do have one more guest post for you on Monday, an article about science education from one of the best teachers I ever had. I’m looking forward to sharing it. And now, speaking of The Beatles, I send you off with a lovely cover of “Eleanor Rigby” by three guys with guitars. Enjoy the rest of the holiday weekend and don’t get trampled today. And happy first anniversary to Halforums!

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All these good things

Being disabled by chronic illness means you might spend a fair amount of time being annoyed, frustrated, angry, or depressed by stuff. I’m not saying we’re all a load of bitter, miserable people; I’m saying that when you’re limited by your body in ways you can’t control no matter how firm a resolve you may have, almost every day you’re going to run into some kind of situation that requires special navigation. You end up focusing on your health almost as much as a hypochondriac, not because you want to, but because it’s your illness that runs your life in many ways now, not you. And every day you have to figure out what you can and can’t do all over again.

We all navigate these waters in our own way, and I don’t presume to tell anyone what kind of emotional response they ought to be having. But along with all my own kvetching and occasional pity parties, I also find time as frequently as I can to remember what I’m grateful for. (Some weeks more frequently than others, I admit.) It feels good to remember this stuff, and so Thanksgiving being Thursday, I thought I’d list a few of the things I am most thankful for, because I’m too bogged down with NaNoWriMo to come up with something original.

heart-1I’m thankful NaNoWriMo is almost over.

I’m thankful that I’m not as bad off as I could be. And no matter how bad off I might get, I will always be thankful for this.

I’m thankful that, with the help of medication, I can still manage a night out at the theatre, or a house party, or a celebratory dinner for two. I may end up paying for it afterwards, but I’m glad I haven’t lost that capacity entirely.

I’m thankful for having smart, open-minded doctors who aren’t afraid to say “I don’t know” nor to tell me hard truths when necessary.

I’m thankful I’m able to pay to see those doctors, as well as have all my basic needs well taken care of, not to mention a number of frivolous ones.

I’m thankful for the persistence of scientific curiosity, and the beauty of the world as science shows it to us.

I’m thankful that my oldest friends accept and support how I’ve changed since becoming ill, and that my newer friends are so understanding about my limits.

I’m thankful for the skeptical community that has opened my eyes to fascinating areas of study. The amount of learning and interaction I get from this has really kept me engaged and active this year after I’ve had to curtail my academic career.

I’m thankful for the two insane felines who live here and make me laugh every day.

I’m thankful to have a husband who is a true life partner in every sense of the term.

I’m thankful for you, whoever you are reading this, for being here. Working on Newly Nerfed keeps me reading, writing, and connected, and every reader does me an honor.

Have a safe and delicious holiday!

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Weekend sendoff: NaNoWriMo week three

Word count: 30,975

I’m tired of this. I’m never doing it again. But I am definitely making it to 50,000.

More gems. Sometimes you go a little crazy padding your word count with a psychedelic dream sequence…

You can blame Phil Plait for this one.

You can blame Phil Plait for this.

In the dream there’s a picture. You know, like from the Hubble, the telescope they have up there? The photo is like this cosmic abstract painting with lights and colors everywhere, like someone who dreamed about space and didn’t only see cold white stars. No, this was a fucking…volcano, a sunset, klieg lights, little LEDs, snow, fog, haze, smoke, pulsating police lights, waves of fire, blue and red and orange and purple and pink and yellow. Just a total fucking amazement of color and shape. And you know what it was? This was the center of the whole goddamn fucking galaxy. The heart of the Milky Way. The vagina of the Milky Way. So much life – not like trees and shit but cosmic life, the life of objects in space and all of them either just born or about to die or the remnants of something that blew up.

and sometimes you just don’t have time for that perfect simile to colaesce.

…looking out at Alcatraz sitting in the bay like a big rock

I have to learn not to try to be funny while I’m churning this stuff out. I only embarrass myself.

There was a long silence in the room. Dana gave it a very high rating in the category of “Awkward Silences During Hotline Training.”

From the “Ya think?” files:

In the meantime, people were horrified to have the dangling corpse as part of their view all morning and through lunchtime.

Finally, here’s a little excerpt from a long scene I wrote when I decided to make one character an atheist and another one religious. Dana’s scenario with the two callers happened to me exactly as she describes it.

Dana contemplated a pretzel as they walked by a vendor, but decided she wanted her hands clean for the Musée [Mecanique]. “God made the hotline happen.”

Mike looked at her. “You’re not serious.”

“Yes, Mike. On the third day He invented the multi-line phone system and saw that it was good.”

“So what do you mean?”

“I mean that’s how your religious caller sees it. God created the hotline and put you and me there to answer calls. This person is grateful to God for that and also to us. Isn’t that a good thing?”

“It would be better if they eliminated being grateful to their imaginary friend.”

“So, what, they’re not grateful enough to you now?”

“No, I don’t care about that. I get called a dick about as much as I get called an angel.”

Dana laughed hard and had to stop walking for a second. “Oh shit, I completely hear that. One night I had someone call me a bitch and say I had no business on the lines, and the very next guy, I swear, told me I was doing the Lord’s work.”

“Which one do you think is true?”

“Both, definitely.”

Okay, enough of that. Not sure what I’ll have for you on Monday; it’ll either be written by someone else and fascinating, or written by me and sub-par. (I don’t have an awesome blog post in me while I’m clawing my way to the end of this project.) For now I send you off with an awesome and trippy little stop-motion piece, which I saw thanks to Ze Frank.

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