I Failed NaNoWriMo 2011!

As you can see from the graph above, I did not reach the goal of writing a 50,000 novel in 30 days.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little disapointed in myself, but considering what I accomplished over the past month (a draft of 14k words and an epic story with a possible sequel), I do have some things to be proud of.

NaNoWriMo helped me learn about writing under preassure. I realized I could write almost anywhere I wanted to, and got better at ignoring distractions that would creep up and try to take my attention away from my writing.

I also learned that my biggest problem with writing wasn’t distraction, but rather procrastination. Once I got into a groove could sit and write for hours on end.

Getting into that groove is what proved most difficult, and it was then that I realized the most important lesson of all: there will be time to review everything later. The goal of NaNoWriMo isn’t to write a completely revised and publishable novel in a month, but rather to write 50,000 words in a month.

If you cannot learn to avoid what some ‘Wrimos’ have dubbed the ‘Inner Editor’, odds are you will spend the majority of your time rewriting the same passage instead of putting to paper new words that serve to push your story forward and increase your wordcount. As many have pointed out in various forum and blog posts: ‘You’ll have plenty of time to revise your work once the month is over’.

So, what’s next?

Well, I think I’ll put aside the draft for a couple of weeks and get the second half of Equanimity posted on the site. After that’s done, I’d like to try some video ideas, as well as see if I can finish my NaNoWriMo novel and maybe get it published.

Of course, I’ll be waiting for November 2012, where I hope to attempt the challenge once again!

The 11k word first draft I’m holding in my hands is really nothing more than a beefed up story board.  The paragraphs are short, dialogue is virtually missing, and the written words contain much more action than character development.

The story also starts in first person, ends in third, and contains a few dead ends along the way (that is, parts that I initially wrote but later ignored due to changes in the plot).

But that’s ok: no one said it had to be perfect… right?

So what now? 

Well my work is not over.  I’m still aiming for 50k words, and now I have something to work with. I’ll be taking the next few days as break (catching up on some much needed Arkham City gaming) and will start adding substance over the weekend.

It will be interesting to see how fast I can increase my wordcount between then and the last day of NaNoWriMo. I still have 39k words to go, but with a clear path between here and there, I think I can make it…

*fingers crossed*

Today is the 15th, the midway mark to get to 50k words. I’m not even close yet, but I have increased by wordcount to just over 8k:

I've just hit my 8029th word!

Though I have a lot of work ahead of me, I feel I’m in a good spot.  My story is almost complete, and considering this was my first draft – and was mostly written on my phone while commuting – I expect the editing process will help baloon the number of words upwards.   What remains to be seen is how many words I can add between now and November 30th ( I may have a few overnight writing sessions between now and then to boost my numbers).

I’m also starting to write some very interesting and difficult parts, the most difficult of which probably have to do with writing the villains in the story.  I find its important to have a villain that is not stupid-evil, but rather that makes somewhat intelligent and rational decisions.  The kind of villain that someone would read and think:

“I don’t like him, but I understand why he did what he did.”

Its much more fun when you can feel that kind of a connection with the villain and see not only what they want to do, but why they want to do it.  

That Why? question is important, because otherwise the villain is just a plain, cartoonish caricature of a bad guy, and writing those kinds of characters is about as interesting as reading them.

And with that said, I’m off to bed… zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

So, what’s happened?

Well the first week or so I spent thinking about a plot line and creating reference material.  I know you’re supposed to just sit down and write, but I’ve found that I can’t aimlessly write about people without first having an idea of the situation they are in and what’s about to happen to them (or, dare I say, what I am about to put them through).  In retrospect, had I known about NaNoWriMo before the start date of November 1st, I would have spent at least the last week of October working on this kind of stuff.

By the end of the first week of November, I knew at a high level who I wanted to write about, where I wanted the story to take place, and where it would go.  And with that in mind, I began writing.

With my schedule the way it is, it was difficult to find the time to write, but I quickly started an old habit up, and now find myself writing while on the metro, during my 30 minute commute to and from work.

I write on my cell phone – a 1½ Nexus One – and am now able to write between 600 and 700 words per ride (which is about 30 minutes long).  The quality of the language isn’t that great (a lot of typos), and delving into character development is not easily done while navigating through masses of people changing trains, but I’ve managed so far to move the story along to the point where I feel it is about half way done, which is both great and disappointing.

Its great in that I have moved the story forward into unknown territory, and every time I write I learn something new about the story I didn’t know before.  And it’s disappointing in that, with a goal of 50,000 words, and half of the story written, I only have 3,375 words so far.

Eeeek! 3,375 words…!  That’s only 6% of the goal!

When I re-read my writing, its obvious where all the words have gone, they’ve disappeared in the cracks of the story while I try to hammer out the plot as quickly as possible before we arrive at the next metro stop and I have to hop off.

So, I’ve no doubt that by the end of next week I’ll have a good story, but at possibly 15k to 20k words, odds are there will be a lot of reviewing and rewriting before I can get to 50,000 words!

To paraphrase Gertrude Stein, “To write is to write is to write is to write is to …”

You get the picture!

For anyone interested, here are my latest stats:

My NaNoWriMo Stats

Try to say it three times real fast, I dare ya!

I was reading through my twitter feed this morning and was stunned to find out today marked the beginning of NaNoWriMo: National Novel Writing Month.

As a participant in the event, your goal is to write a 50,000 word novel between the 1st and 30th of November.   The event itself is organized by The Office of Lettes and Light,

I have to admit the thought of writing a 50k word story in 30 days seems insane.  The average story post on Folaji is about one thousand words.  To write a novel for this event would therefore be the equivalent of writing 50 one thousand word posts in under 30 days.  

Then again, I remember reading somewhere that over 200,000 people participated in the event last year, and if they can do it, there’s no reason I can’t.

So, I’ll be going for it, trying to write a completely new novel from a scratch over the next 30 days… As I’m writing this post, I haven’t started writing yet, nor am I decided on what story to write.  Regardless, this should be a very interesting experiment.

For anybody who wishes to participate, take a moment and visit the NaNoWriMo.org website for tips, tricks, resources and community help.  If you create an account, feel free to add me as a writing buddy (username Folaji)

Hope you all took the time to dress yourselves up into something scary.  I’m a little disappointing with my costume this year.  My initial idea didn’t really pan out, so I had to grab my backup.  Hopefully I’ll be able to make up for my lack of originality next year.

Also, today the last part of Ezmereth Nemrin’s story was published, and it would seem the site played a little trick on us, publishing them out of order…  So I’ve reset the order of the posts, and you can read the whole story by starting here.

Enjoy!

Ezmereth walked deeper into the chamber and bowed slightly towards Escanor Tanthul, one of the Princes of Shade. With him were his brothers Aglarel and Lamorak. All were shades, humans who had merged with the essence of the Shadowfell, making them very powerful in areas of darkness or shadow.

“I come with grave news for the empire,” Ezmereth said, swallowing the sadness he felt for his master.

“We already know of Ylormik’s death,” said Lamorak, with a dark grin on his face.

“But how?”

“We were scrying your training,” the prince continued. “We find it important that we keep a close eye on Umbriris in training, especially in these times when we are on the brink of war with the Thayans, not to mention the ever-present threat of the Harpers.”

Ezmereth, gritting his teeth, quietly said, “Then you know I have failed him, as well as all of you.”

“Yes,” Aglarel chimed in, “you have failed us immensely. Ylormik was a skilled nethermancer, and an excellent teacher of the arcane arts. His death will affect many in Shade enclave.”

The chamber remained silent for a moment, as though the Princes wished to emphasize their displeasure.

“Worry not, young Swordmage,” Escanor finally said, his voice cutting into the silence. “We have already discussed at length what best to do of this.”

“Am I to become Shade, like all of you, my lieges?” Ezmereth had hope in his eyes.

“Nay,” Aglarel replied dryly.

“But, to wield such power is the only way I can fully serve Netheril and become a true Umbriri. It would be a great honor.”

“You shall not have that honor!” Aglarel stared at the young man. “In fact, that blade of yours, Umbra, shall be placed into our care until we deem you worthy of wielding it again.”

Guards appeared from the side of the room. They walked up to Ezmereth and opened their hands. Hesitantly, the young Swordmage unsheathed Umbra and placed it into the guards’ hands. The guards then quickly turned and walked away.

“All is not lost, Ezmereth Nemrin,” Escanor said. “You will be tasked with a mission of great importance. It is our hope that you will accept this mission so that you may redeem yourself in the eyes of Shar.”

Ezmereth, looking up with a glimmer of hope in his eyes, asked, “What is your bidding my princes?”

“You shall head west,” began Escanor, “to the fabled library of Candlekeep. There you will join a group that is planning an expedition to the southern island of Chult.

“Once you get to Chult, explore the land with the expedition. Learn its geography, the ways of its people, and assist in all that you can. Your task will be to form a Netherese Embassy there so we can make trade relations with the natives. Once this is complete, then, and maybe then, will we give you the honor of turning you into a Shade. And perhaps we shall even give you back your blade of darkness. At the very least, you will have the gratitude of Netheril itself.”

“Very well, my lieges,” Ezmereth bowed.

“Here is a Tome bound with coils of darkness,” Escanor said, walking up to the dishonored Swordmage and handing him a large book with pitch black binding made of shadow. “It contains history about our enclave as it stood in the Shadowfell for millennia. Its worth is unmatched, and with it, you will gain access to the library.”

“Leave now,” Aglarel said as his brother walked back to his side, “and do not fail us again.”

Ezmereth bowed once again, and walked out. He grabbed a steel blade in the armory before leaving the enclave. Nothing enchanted like the blade he was used to, but it would have to suffice. His kingdom needed him to build trade relations and expand their territory to the south. Not quite what he was expecting, but potentially exciting nonetheless.
The jungles of Chult awaited him, a place where he would hone his skill with blade and magic, and hopefully redeem himself for his past mistakes.

The corpses, directed by their more powerful undead master, approached the two Netherese with frightening precision. Ezmereth and Ylormik quickly avoided them, separating themselves by hopping to opposite ends of the room. To one side, the old master began speaking archaic words and performing arcane gestures, while on the other the young pupil sliced through the undead as though their rotting flesh were made of warm butter.

“Foul spirit,” said Ezmereth, looking at the apparition, “there shall be no resurrection of any sort occurring here. Nay, it shall be the undoing of your unnatural existence upon these lands that will occur!”

A force of energy zipped from Ylormik’s fingertips, blasting into the spirit creature. Ezmereth followed this with a charge into the group of undead, slashing at the zombies, each slash revealing decomposing innards that carried with them the uncanny smell of death.

The evil spirit floated upwards and attempted to make its way towards Ezmereth, but the Swordmage’s constant movement around the battlefield made the attempt difficult.

Ylormik took advantage of the situation and burned a group of the zombies with a jet of flame, scorching them to ash. He followed this up with more blasts of magic directed at the spirit, in an attempt to taunt it back towards himself.

“How can there be so many?” Ezmereth wondered. After all, he had easily slashed at more than eight zombies, and at the moment, there should have been none left to fight. The answer came to him as he pierced through one of the zombies, wiggling his sword from left to right, and splitting the monster in two. The two pieces of rotten flesh fell to the ground, only to recombine again into one creature.

Ezmereth looked up at the floating spirit and saw it was not only trying to approach him, but also bringing back its minions as soon as they were destroyed. The realization caused Ezmereth to pause, and soon he found himself overwhelmed by all eight undead creatures.

With Ezmereth occupied, the spirit turned and focused on older, easier prey: the nethermancer. It approached Ylormik, who quickly stepped back, blasting the creature with a force of dark power that sent waves of dark energy rippling through most of the chamber.

The blast exhausted Ylormik, who fell to one knee, but also slowed the spirit, whose progress toward the old nethermancer slowed, and whose control over the zombies that were engaged with Ezmereth wavered for a moment. The control, however, was quickly regained, and the spirit continued its progress towards the old man.

Surrounded by increasingly ferocious zombies, Ezmereth could only watch as the spirit got into striking distance of Ylormik. Then, with nothing but a simple wave of the arm, the spirit struck the old man.

The blow was physically weak, but magically strong, and Ezmereth cringed at the sight of it. He saw his teacher’s body contract in pain as his life force was drained from him, his scared eyes twitching from left to right, searching desperately for a way to escape the spirit’s hold. A moment later, those same eyes were motionless and empty, and the spirit, who now literally held Ylormik’s life in its hands, tossed it into the air as if it were nothing but refuse.

“Master, no!”

Ezmereth, with all the emotions of seeing his tutor slain before him, used his arcane power to disappear in a puff of shadowy substance, teleporting away from the undead surrounding him with the wisp trailing him adjacent to the spirit. He appeared with Umbra poised to strike, plunging it immediately into the spirit.

The spirit wailed in pain, and as it disintegrated, shouted: “The return is inevitable. What I do not accomplish, others shall in my place!”

With its death, all its minions crumbled to the ground.

Ezmereth wearily approached the pale and withered body of what had been his master. Not even a hint of his soul remained in the body to be resurrected; Ylormik was truly dead.

“The true lord of magic demands that you disbelievers vacate his holy temple,” replied the ghastly voice. “It has no place for those who are steered wrongly by the shadows.”
The voice spoke of Shar, the only deity allowed to be worshipped within Netheril. She who had saved Shade Enclave during the kingdom’s fall by bringing it into the Shadowfell, leading to its return to the Material Plane over a thousand years later.

“You are the one who is steered wrongly,” responded Ylormik, “for this true lord you speak of was naught but a fool who could not handle true power.”

“Is that what you were led to believe?” The retort of the voice echoed through the chamber. “I am afraid you are gravelly mistaken. Lord Karsus exists still in death in the Astral Sea. The divine spark has not left his essence and in time, he shall return.”

“You speak foolishly!” yelled Ezmereth. “This temple shall be converted to the worship of a more appropriate deity and taken back to Shade Enclave.”

“Ezmereth, it might not be wise to anger the…”

Ylormik’s attention went from Ezmereth to the centre of the room, where a semi-transparent apparition appeared before them by the altar. The graying creature was humanoid in shape, but lacked any distinct features to be able to tell what sort of humanoid it was. It lacked both arms and legs, and no visage could be seen on its head. It reminded Ezmereth of someone who had put a tattered blanket over himself to stay warm.

“Your life essences shall be taken and used as fuel for the resurrection that is to come,” the apparition said, despite its lack of a mouth.

The creature floated up into the air, arms suddenly appearing at its sides. It brought them up, gesturing them as though performing a ritual. Suddenly, eight rotting corpses emerged from the ground, growing like plants out of the stone floor, and grabbing at the old wizard and his pupil.

“I hope you are happy with yourself, Ezmereth,” said the master. “You will have yet another opportunity to hone your skill with that blade.”

Ezmereth merely winked at Ylormik, unsheathed his sword, and leaped into battle.