Nanowrimo Comes to a Close

I posted to the Rogues Gallery Writers blog at the beginning of the month about Nanowrimo. Today is the last day of this crazy, inovational contest that challenges writers to pound out a full manuscript in thirty days. At the time of this writing, my personal word count is in doubt. Will I make the 50,000 words required to complete a successful Nano run?

There are a few hundred thousand who will complete the contest. My hat is off to anyone who even stepped up and attempted this writing gauntlet. You have to have writing guts. You have to have desire. You have to have a personality that thrives on perseverance. Then you have to make it happen.

I have successfully completed this task once. I would like to think as I key this that I have done it again. The feeling of writing invincibility is tremendous. The feeling of "I can write a book in thirty days euphoria" overwhelms you. Completing a successful Nanowrimo novel is the equivalent of winning an Olympic 100 meter dash.

You are wasted. Exhausted. Anxious to do it again while you kick back and bask in the glory of achievement. The largest difference between completing Nanowrimo and the Olympics though, is that few if any will see your accomplishment. But isn't that the way of the writer?

Sure, we all desire notoriety and popularity in the book sales department, but few of us crave the physical limelight of being placed before the masses visually.

Nanowrimo has come to its 2009 end. A sad day, yet one of grand euphoria for those who cross that finish line. Another wonderful aspect of this contest is that there are a few hundred thousand winners. Unlike the Olympics where only one can be on top, here a multitude can feel the glow that comes from attaining a monumental task.

For those who did not enter, know this: When you see we Nano's out there cranking out product while you struggle for a meager word count, don't look at us with contempt. Know that we were once there with you - we simply found an answer and ran with it. You can do the same.

You don't even have to wait for November. There's a new month ahead of you and a whole set of new ones on the horizon. Compete in your own private Nanowrimo. No one has to know, but I warn you - when your word count begins to soar, others will notice the pimp in your writer's step. They'll ask what your secret is.

It's up to you whether you tell them or not.

Write on!

The Cold Bite of Autumn (pt. 10)

Daniel carried her into the cabin. Frost would surely cover the world in the morning. The pale sky was giving way to darkness. He sat her on the couch, went back to the car and fished out their minimal belongings - three bags of groceries and one bag of clothes. "I'll get us better clothes tomorrow."

"Hell, I'm not going anywhere anytime soon." Samantha laid down on the couch and propped her bad ankle up on the cushioned arm. "I think I'm going to like having a man wait on me hand and foot."

Daniel grunted, strolled to the kitchen and began to unpack their food. "Mac and cheese ok for tonight?"

"Oh my god, a gourmet in the making. I'm not cooking so I suppose it will have to do."

"What are the odds they are onto us already?"

"Took you a while to get there. You should have asked that before we left the hospital. We're both as good as dead right now."

"So what are they waiting for? If they know who I am, where we are and what we know, where's the holdup?"

"They may be waiting to see if you get anywhere with me."

"Isn't that a long shot?"

"With what I know, they'll gamble for the info."

"Why don't you just give it to them? What makes them want to kill you?"

Samantha rolled onto her side. She stared at the oak floor and said, "I turned."

"You turned? How long?"

"Months. They had me as a target. We were almost there. The first of the money had already come in when I killed one of their assassins. I didn't care. One more job and we were to be paid in full."

"So these three guys meant a lot to you."

"Only the world."

The Cold Bite of Autumn (pt. 9)

Once in the car, Samantha shrugged off the oversized coat with the floppy hood. Walking was out of the question for a while. Somehow, Daniel had requisitioned crutches for her and they left the hospital in plain sight - she in a wheelchair and Daniel pushing, toting a doting husband's compliment of suitcases, crutches and make-up bags.

She had to admit he could be very resourceful. Where he came up with all the loot she never figured out. A good field agent would do the same. This worried her. Daniel promised to be more than he appeared.

We're headed for the mountains, in case you're wondering," Daniel said as the car woke to his key.

"Don't tell me. You just happen to have a cabin up there."

"No, but I happen to know someone who does and they won't be using it anytime soon."

"Do you make it a habit of barging in on other people's property like that?"

"Only when I need to. This is a need to situation." Daniel turned the radio down to a whisper and asked, "Why'd you kill them?"

"They had turned."

"Money?"

"Does it really matter?"

"I suppose not. How long had you worked with them?"

"Four years."

"Why aren't you lying? I thought you always lied."

"What's the point? I only lie when I need to." Samantha shifted in the seat. Her ankle ached from all the activity during there 'escape' from the hospital.

"So you decided to go out with them. They must have meant something to you."

"Bastards. They welcomed me into the group. We were going to be rich. No one could touch us. Let the world go to hell while we all sit back, drink heavily and fuck like rabbits."

"Were you tempted?" Daniel glanced her way. She felt his eyes study her face.

"Yeah." She lowered her head and muttered, "I was tempted."

"What made you decide to do the job. I presume you infiltrated them for that purpose."

"I gathered information I couldn't live with."

"What kind of information."

"Now you want me to lie. Let's leave it at money, alcohol and sex wouldn't be enough for me to be able to live with myself. They were into something nasty."

"Fair enough - for now. We'll need to hole up a while for your ankle to heal."

"What about you? You appear to know way too much about my line of work. What's your story?"

"I kill women."

She shot a glance his way then felt her face flush when she noticed he'd seen. "Ok, that's funny."

"No really. I don't lie. Women seem to die around me. I suppose it's my engaging personality."

"How do they die?"

"Not by my hand. They all seem to ... have issues. Drugs, pimps, agents, husbands. You name it, I've seen it."

"A dead babe magnet, eh?" She smiled for the first time.

"It ain't all that funny lady."

The Cold Bite of Autumn (pt.8)

"If they're the good guys, what's that make you?"

An evil bitch, Samantha thought as she sized up Daniel. "Let's just say I'm not the pristinely perfect lady. I have a few undesirable personality flaws."

"Oh? For example ..."

"I kill people for a living. I lie about everything and I don't floss." Daniel didn't react and she didn't like that one bit. She'd have to take a different tack.

"Did you kill those men in the car with you?"

He was cleaning his nails, not looking directly at her. This troubled her even more. He's not looking for body language clues. "Yes."

"I thought you lied about everything."

"Maybe I am."

"You're not. Why take yourself out along with them? Was that the plan?"

He's much too close to the truth. "I don't think you need to know all this. Go away and maybe they won't know you were ever here."

"We both know it's too late for that. If I'm going to go down, at least give me the satisfaction of knowing why." Daniel looked up and met her eyes with a cool stare.

"You could be anyone. If I talk to you, I could spill secrets that would cause far too many problems. Especially if you're the enemy."

"Look Samantha, you're the one who crawled up to my house broken and bleeding. If you singled your enemy out like that, then you are one incredibly talented agent. I just don't want to be caught up in something without knowing the score."

"Now who's lying? You love not knowing what's happening. It's the thrill of the hunt." Samantha vaguely remembered his house and the creaky screen door. The wreck felt like it happened years ago instead of days.

"Touche`." Daniel stood up and tossed some clothes on her stomach. "Get dressed under the sheet in case the nurse comes in. We're outta here."

Creating Product

Fiction's Footsteps is an interesting project. I'm attempting to write it without using notes or outlines. I just look at the previous post and continue the story from there.

Plot twists could spring from anything that may have happened during a day in my life. The unpredictability of this project could make it somewhat less than satisfying, but it may surprise and deliver a story we can sink our teeth into.

The Cold Bite of Autumn explores my ability (and lust) to create an alternate world that is accessible to most people and a joy to write. So far, I am encouraged by the writing. My writing is in need of overhauling so much, I fear when I click the "Publish Post" button.

No writer wishes to create product that stinks. Hell, we all dream of writing the "Great American Novel. Realistically speaking, most of us have a ton of work to do.

I will continue to create product, post it to this page, and hope that someone 'discovers' me and finds the fiction palatable and especially enjoyable.