Sunday, February 09, 2014

I have, technically, been writing

Working out plot stuff for Ghoulish Happenings in my head  for draft two, and trying to think if I need to make some major changes to the structure or not. I'm leaning toward yes, figuring out the ramifications of that and building it in as subplot in my head.

As a break from that, I started a new story today. Mostly because I don't want to just write the magician series stories; I need a bit of a breather from that world. So I started with a boy named Jonas, and what happens to him and his dad when a boy named Qirjin moves in down the hall with his mother. It's going to be a kind-of fairy tale about lives falling apart and coming together and how monsters are always monsters. I think.

I wrote three paragraphs for it, and realized that the last two of those actually were for a story I haven't added words to in over a year. I threw them into that file, tried to shove my brain back into gear for New. Wrote a few hundred more words. Watched the first three episodes of Gilligan's Island as research. (Really.) Read up on said show, lost myself in a small maze of internets. Surfaced. Added more words.

Surfaced to find I've written, rewritten and (semi)polished 1100 words over 9 hours. On the flip side, I have backstories of three of the four major characters in my he2ad, stuff on their personalities and how some may be broken and remade over the course of the story. I have no real plot yet. I don't even know how long this is going to be. It is also not in first person present tense. Which is a nice break from that as well, I think

How it starts....

I can’t forget the first time we met. No. Let’s start with a secret: I still try to forget him. Even after everything, maybe because of nothing. I don’t know. I used to know things, before I met him, his family, and everything that came from that. I don’t anymore. The world used to be solid and it isn’t anymore. I’m writing this down because I can’t trust myself anymore. There’s this joke, right: “Aren’t you ever ashamed at being such a jerk?” And then it goes: “Why should I be? I put a lot of work into being me.” All that work fell apart when we I met him.  

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