And They're Away

I've heard a lot of authors talking about the finishing frenzy -- ironically it's only day one of NaNoWriMo and I should actually be deeply into that. Greywater is actually very nearly finished; last night, before NaNo even started for the year, I finished sketching out the entire story. All I have to do is in between it and flesh out the details, and I'm done. It left with basically two chapters and an epilogue of work. In theory, if I'd gone into beserker mode, I could have finished it today.

I didn't. I'm tired. And I slow down to a crawl whenever I get close to finishing anything. It didn't help that it's Melbourne Cup Day, so I spent a good chunk of it at a luncheon wearing a fascinator and watching horsies. Still, after reading a Karin Slaughter and feeling inadequate, and then reading a Robin Cook and thinking "Christ, I could write better than this with my eyes closed!" I finally got to it. So, here's a bit of what's been going on today in NaNo-Land.

NaNo progress notes, 01.11.11

Number of words committed: 4055
Total words: 4055
Total goal for the day: As I said, I could have finished it -- in the end, I was just happy to write anything. And once I got going, it did start flowing.
Words left to go: Maths and I don't get on. And it's not really about the words for me.
Reason for stopping: Tiredness, primarily. I also wanted to update this and the NaNo site before it flipped over to the second.
Favorite line: I'm working on the really action-oriented penultimate chapter. I hate this shit. I'm lousy at it; my style's a bit more languid and descriptive, and doesn't suit the pace of such scenes well at all. The only time I enjoy writing things like this is in The Junipr Bones, because most of the violence in that is pure idiocy on Eliot's part and we both snark our way through it. Still, here's a tiny snip:

“So much for death with a little dignity,” he muttered, and opened his eyes. The paladin loomed above him. He wore no smile. He wore no real expression at all – he was an automaton acting for his fire-lady, a vessel through which her merciless justice would flow. It was nothing at all like the calm river of the boy-god’s endless benevolence; it was instead a molten lahar of bitter revenge. It would end nothing, Otho thought, but he supposed at this moment he was allowed to pretend as the knife came down.

Surprises, pleasant and un-: As I've written out the basics of the whole story now, there's not a lot of leeway left for surprises. Not that I should say that. I suspect someone's going to kick my head in tomorrow.
Character I most want to slap right now: Possibly Otho? Which is mean, he's getting screwed over something terrible right this minute. I think I'm just frustrated with writing this chapter, as I've already said.
Mean things committed: Holy shit, I've fucked them all in the ear right now. And that includes Ryenn, for all he's thinking he's ahead of the game. Silly old sod that he is.
Unexpected research: I want to look up some word from the Robin Cook novel I was reading as I think it will be a useful title for those in Amanita's church, but I've already forgotten what it was. Faaaaaail.
iTunes reads my mind: I actually got in the mood for writing thanks to the Doors. Oh, Jimmy boy, Mister Mojo is rising. It's all good.