My story is about 7 individuals who happen to be domestic terrorists. But they really aren't good at it and their goals could be called vapid and asinine.
It's a bit of a comedy, drama and sensual experience.
The plot will reaveal itself over my 30 days, so I don't want to give away all the goodies... but this is the McHale's navy of terrorists.
Will you follow me? Will you contribute to ideas and will you read my daily updates to the novel?
I need your support.
Last year I wrote around 28,000 words and ran out of time. But I don't see myself as a failure. I learned a lot during that time.
I learned I can get into the details of a story and create plot twists and turns.
But my biggest lesson was just write, don't edit or erase anything, If something comes to your mind that you know will happen later in your novel type it right now anyway. Mark it with a different font or somethign but don't wait to type those words. They might get lost. Don't worry about being linear. That will come after November 30th.
i have no clue what I am going to write this year but I have signed up again. Tonight at midnight i will plop my butt don't, place my hands on the keyboard and look at the blank screen, praying something reveales itself. =)
PS i can't remember how to find NaNo buddies. So reply back to this if you know how and yes I will follow you. =)
This is my 4th year....and hopefully 4th to be successful *crosses fingers*. Good luck on your novel, I have a feeling that by the end of the month you'll be surprised by how not crappy it really is.
This will be my 9th NaNoWriMo, and unless something goes horribly wrong, my 9th Win as well.
I love the completely liberating ability to write without looking back.
Well, starting a new job is definitely not the time to start writing a book. (I was supposed to start on Nov1 at amazon, bumped to nov15.)
Insert here whatever excuse I had about being sad, depressed, devasted without a working nook to write. But I finally started late today and have over 1500 words.. Not quite the daily goal of 2000, but now that I finally picked up the pen so to speak, I am writing and while difficult, it's not as hard as I imagined. Since I do have off till the 14th, i EXPECT to make up the difference and advance farther. Just getting started was the hardest part. I wrote a brief outline of what I wanted to happen for the novel and a few basic themes or ideas to carry throughout, but other than the basic characters (which are morphing as we speak) and the basic 2 sentence plot, I have nothing. aaargh!
But I am very happy with my first chapter.
Some strong language & adult themes (rated pg-13).
I apologize for this not being formatted well to these boards, but this is what I've started with... which is a bit quirky, odd and weird admittedly.
Encryption Hash: 1345ElkdRKTklskuiu225
The ball is in play. Prepare for Operation sNOOKe. We are go T-minus 35 days.
Prepare your assets and mission priorities. Must be executed timely. You know what is expected and required. Do not fail the mission.
<<END SECURE TRANSMISSION>>
“What’n the hell is that? Looks like it’s incubatin’.” Henry muttered to himself. “Marjorie? Marjorie! Come take a look at this!” Oh damn that woman. Probably watching the Game Show Network getting all the answers wrong and still loving it. Why did I ever marry that slack-jawed heifer? She couldn’t knob-gobble if it was Thanksgiving.
“MARJORIE! COME LOOK AT MY CRAP WOMAN!” he shouted over the din of dings and buzzes coming from the the Sony 42” television in the living room, the Panasonic 19” in the crafting room that used to be his gun room and the 7” no-name brand she just ‘had to have’ all to watch her precious Game Show Network… on three different TV’s just in case she had to go to another room so she wouldn’t miss anything.
He’d told her over and over to turn up her Beltones the daft cow. No damn Game Show Network show was going to get in the way of serious business. Neither would Thanksgiving, the weather or the alien-invasion, which this likely was.
“Marj—“ he began as the door flew open banging into the tub sending the Suave Shampoo flying. As shampoo drizzled from the broken cap, Marjorie burst into the cramped, but comfortable commode room now scented with Lilac from the shampoo as well as the overpowering Pine-Sol from the monthly maid cleaning. Well, it would have been comfortable except for the generous girth of Marjorie’s waistline or rather what used to be her waistline but could now be a feast for 20 Cannibals on Gilligan’s Island. “What is it now Henry? I’m missin’ mah episodes.”
“They’ll replay them tomorrow woman. Now get over here and look at this!” he exclaimed with emphasis on ‘this’.
“Oh, Henry… I’ve seen it before and it’s still small and wrinkled. Looks like a baby carrot and two small prunes.” she hissed, annoyed at being deprived of the Price is Right. “Not that woman… THIS!”
Marjorie waddled closer to the toilet bowl where she smiled at the remembrance of having chosen the perfect accent color. She always had loved that color, Baby’s Breath Blue. She had always also thought that an odd name for a color… reminded her of a drowning baby by name, but the color was pretty so it didn’t really matter how many infants had to die for that lovely shade.
Henry moved to the side to make room for Marjorie’s ample girth. “Suck it in Henry if you want me to look” she prattled as she tried to squeeze by. “Marjie, I AM sucking it in!” “Well suck harder then you fossil!” she hollered.
Still stuck even with all that sucking, something finally had to give and courtesy of the freshly Pine-Sol cleansed walls, courtesy of Merry Maids and that ingrate Mexican maid ‘Conchetta’, it did.
With a thurp, Henry popped out from between the wall and Marjorie like like a cork rocketing from a champagne bottle… right into the bathtub. Scarcely a yelp passed his lips before the hard thwack of his brainpan met the Baby’s Breath Blue matching Fiberglass tub. THWACK! “Owww” was followed immediately by “Ooooff” as he crashed down from the wall to the tub bottom landing his not-unplump derriere on the Suave Shampoo bottle which truly did erupt like Mt. Saint Helens but in a spray of bubbles like a gaggle of snot-nosed kids at a Fourth of July picnic on a sugar high with bottles of Mr Bubbles.
Fortunately for Marjorie and unfortunately for Henry, his foot hit the shower knob with gurgled at first and then spewed freezing cold water on the disorientated Henry.
“Well at least you can say you took your monthly shower “ Marjorie snickered between bouts of laughter. “Help me out of here woman before I take the belt to you!” “Oh hold your horses old-man” she relented as she reached out her hand to help her incapacitated spouse from the bubble-festooned tub. Good intentions aside and while she was trying to help she certainly would enthusiastically later detail to her bridge club that there WAS shampoo and bubbles all over which fortunately for Marjorie meant another story to regale over cards and Cosmopolitans at the Drescher’s house this Friday. Cards are never really that fun without the gossip. All these thoughts happened in a blink of an eye which is good because she needed to pay attention to what happened next.
Thump! “Owwwww.” “Sorry dear, must *snicker* have been *snicker* all the bubbles.” she croaked between fits of laughter. “Ugh, don’t bother Margie… I’ll get out myself.” muttered poor Henry as he clamored his way out of the tub landing on the floor with another storyworthy ‘thud’.
“Uggh. You are trying to kill me Marjie. You’ll be the death of me.” he rasped. “Is your life insurance paid up? Here, come on. Let me help you.” she said as she handed him a Baby’s Breath Blue bath towel to help hoist him back to vertical.
“Oooohf” you are getting heavy she wheezed. “At least that’s my exercise for the day.” Panting from that exertion, she caught her breath “And…”. Henry interrupted abruptly “And does that means you won’t be making marathon sprints to the ‘fridge every 20 minutes tonight? Would save on the grocery bill.”
“You know I have a glandular issue Henry! My doctor says I should walk at least a mile a day.” she exclaimed haughtily. “I don’t think your doctor had in mind the idea that it would just be walking back and forth to the ‘fridge Margie.” he replied.
Margie would not be retelling this part of the story to her bridge club. Fran would cackle like the witch she is if she knew especially after her finding out she ate the whole holiday ham all by herself last Christmas when Henry fell in the bathtub again and had to spend the night in the E.R. That’s when she decided to remodel that damnable olive-colored room. It might not have helped for Henry, but it certainly did improve her mood.
The tears began to well up in her eyes from Henry’s ridicule as only a star actress could do… well as well as an actress that had been a bit player in her high-school musical could which is to say, not well at all, but it always got to Henry that lovable lump who might be worthless but is at least there.
“Oh honey, I’m sorry.” Henry smartly replied to an unexpected burst of emotion.
He’d seen this before and if he wanted anything more than frozen dinners for the next month, he knew what had to be done. Not that frozen dinners are bad and, in fact, were often better than Margie’s cooking, but the silent treatment is what Henry couldn’t bear. The last time he had gotten that, the only way he could get out of the doghouse was to agree to remodel the bathroom. Something about Baby’s Death being the new fall color. $10,000 later and it indeed did look like a baby died in there.
“Baby, you know I think you are beautiful. Come on, what’ya say to going tonight down to the Old Fashioned Buffet? All you can eat!?! AND I have a coupon! How’s that sound?” he implored.
“Well… fine, I guess. They do have the lemon drink I do like so much. But that one waitressy girl keeps eyeballin’ it like I’m gonna steal the glass or something. Now why would I do that? I already have a set of eight Old Fashioned Buffet glasses already. Why on earth would I need another?”
“Yes dear. I know dear.” he replied. “Now come and look at this honey bunch.”
“Are you gonna make me look at your shit again?” she said now annoyed again at missing the spin of the Big Wheel as she could hear from the three televisions blasting in the background from the living room, crafting room and inexplicably the laundry room as there never was clean laundry in the house.
“Yes dear. It looks like aliens have abducted me and performed those perverse tests on me again… of… well… a sexual nature.” he timidly stated.
“Again?” she sighed. “Well, let me take a look.”
She began to bend her massive girth over the toilet bowl planting both arms on each side of the toilet for support. A precarious situation especially considering the amount of Suave floating around in bubbles. One wrong move or slip and she’d be in it… shit deep so to speak.
As she peered at the sample she exclaimed “Those aren’t alien baby eggs you AARP-addled buffoon. It’s corn dumbass. You had corn-on-the-cob last night with dinner. That nice fried chicken I made for you that I slaved over a hot stove all day cooking. “
“But you brought dinner home last night Margie.” came his reply.
“Like I said, I am not about to call KFC to tell them they are serving alien baby eggs. But I do know what I’m going to order at the buffet. Meatloaf… with gravy.”
________________end chapter 1
I will be setting up a site shortly... tomorrow probably for further updates. Hope you check 'em out and comment.
Will update with that site shortly.
I finally decided to participate this year, even though I planned to spend the month editing some of my existing novels. (Boy, do they need it!) Luckily I had a funnish idea based on an SF novel I wrote in college (but much changed). Yesterday, my brain did a little dance, and I figured out how to make it actuall work. I think.