National Novel Writing Month...

Fish · #1 10-24-2007, 11:50 PM

or NaNoWriMo, takes place during November.

The goal is to write a 50,000 word novel, starting on November 1st and going until the last second of November 30th.

In this, quantity is superior to quality. Its not about putting together a meticulously edited, perfectly sensible story. In fact, is quite the opposite.

I know a handful of you here are writers of some form, so I think this might appeal to you. If anyone is interested in participating, perhaps we can use this thread to discuss it.

fsquared · #2 10-25-2007, 12:30 AM

Is it supposed to be one author or can it be multi-authored? Maybe it could be done on a wiki?

One thought would be to write a novel based on the most Machiavellian, nasty, Aaron Spelling-esque interpretation of the Alizée/Mylene story, with all sorts of libelous fictions invented out of our collective craven imaginations (of which there are plenty on this forum

).

Deepwaters · #3 10-25-2007, 12:44 AM

I'll pass. This just sounds too gimmicky. I can write quickly, but 50,000 words in a month is just absurd.

Besides, I already started my new one and am working on the 3rd chapter now, so I don't qualify.

AmericanFan · #4 10-25-2007, 12:56 AM

I have a new sci-fi story in mind. The problem is having it completed within a month.

Fish · #5 10-25-2007, 01:04 AM

The point isn't a polished finished product. Its speed-writing, just to see what you can create.

fsquared, I'd assume its a solo project.
However, your story pitch sounds exactly like what is expected from this. I love it.

AmericanFan · #6 10-25-2007, 01:30 AM

You don't understand. I'm on here 24/7 so there is no time to write.

fsquared · #7 10-25-2007, 01:32 AM

C'mon, it's got all the right ingredients (kind of like the movie "Anna"), ripe for a melodramatic, over-the-top soap opera: older, cynical matron looking for an ingenue to mold into her own shape; young, impressionable, fresh girl looking for her big break; the stars aligning just right and the huge, blinding smash of sudden fame; the emerging dark side as the puppet strings reveal themselves; the public smiles and fame as the silent torment envelops her into an emotional prison; the chance meeting with the dashing, unknown suitor, who gives her the courage to throw off her chains and break free...

C'mon, someone's gotta give it a shot.

AmericanFan · #8 10-25-2007, 01:54 AM

Yes but... as soon as the author describes the incredible posterior of the main character it will be obvious who the book is really about.

fsquared · #9 10-25-2007, 01:17 PM

Beep beep, beep beep....
The alarm clock buzzed. Slowly, young Eglantine rubbed her sleepy eyes and threw off her cover. As she rose from her bed, she shook off her dazed slumber, and, in a flash, bolted up. Today is the big day, she said to herself. As she slid daintily off her bed, she looked up at the posters in her room. Madonna, her idol. "One day...one day...", she whispered to herself, with a dreamy look. She cast her eyes on a poster of her favorite actor, Ben Stiller. "There is just something about that Mary, isn't there...?", she thought with a chuckle.

Eglantine, the wild rose. Her parents, avid horticulturists in their spare time, had named her after their favorite flower, which grew on her native Corsica. She adored the tart, intense flavor of their fruits. Her parents ran a successful shoe-store chain with several branches; they had even opened one as far away as Arcachon, on the mainland.
She trundled off to the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, she delicately licked at the corners of her chipped front teeth. Her scar on her left eyebrow, a product of a snowboarding accident when she was 10, was in its usual place. "Wabi", she thought to herself, "but no one will notice, I hope, and anyway they're there to hear me sing". She brushed her raven hair, a light bob that came down to her ears, and crinkled her nose slightly, looking for a hint of a freckle.

Then she dressed in her leotard and began, as she did every morning, with a series of warm-ups; plies, stretches, bends. Dancing was her first love, ever since she was 4 and put on those ballet slippers in her parents' store and wouldn't take them off until they promised her lessons. Then, she found her favorite CD, True Blue, and put on La Isla Bonita. As the Spanish guitars delicately evoked the clouds, her hands raised themselves in a flamboyant flamenco pose and she swayed rhythmically as her voice lifted in a passionate contralto:

"Tropical the island breeze
All of nature wild and free
This is where I long to be
La isla bonita..."

"BREAKFAST!!" Her mother called... "Plus vite! You'll miss the bus!" She quickly got dressed and went downstairs to eat. Her heart raced slightly as she thought about the day. She was leaving on a plane to Paris, for the Graines de Star audition. She had trained so hard for this day, memorizing her lyrics, her intonations; she had wanted to dance, but the dance competition was only for groups, so she decided to sing instead. After passing the regional casting call, she had dedicated hours every day to getting everything right. The poise, the breath, the voice; she would have to give it everything if she wanted to make it to the finals.

Deus_Ex · #10 10-25-2007, 02:30 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by fsquared

Beep beep, beep beep....
The alarm clock buzzed. Slowly, young Eglantine rubbed her sleepy eyes and threw off her cover. As she rose from her bed, she shook off her dazed slumber, and, in a flash, bolted up. Today is the big day, she said to herself. As she slid daintily off her bed, she looked up at the posters in her room. Madonna, her idol. "One day...one day...", she whispered to herself, with a dreamy look. She cast her eyes on a poster of her favorite actor, Ben Stiller. "There is just something about that Mary, isn't there...?", she thought with a chuckle.

Eglantine, the wild rose. Her parents, avid horticulturists in their spare time, had named her after their favorite flower, which grew on her native Corsica. She adored the tart, intense flavor of their fruits. Her parents ran a successful shoe-store chain with several branches; they had even opened one as far away as Arcachon, on the mainland.
She trundled off to the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, she delicately licked at the corners of her chipped front teeth. Her scar on her left eyebrow, a product of a snowboarding accident when she was 10, was in its usual place. "Wabi", she thought to herself, "but no one will notice, I hope, and anyway they're there to hear me sing". She brushed her raven hair, a light bob that came down to her ears, and crinkled her nose slightly, looking for a hint of a freckle.

Then she dressed in her leotard and began, as she did every morning, with a series of warm-ups; plies, stretches, bends. Dancing was her first love, ever since she was 4 and put on those ballet slippers in her parents' store and wouldn't take them off until they promised her lessons. Then, she found her favorite CD, True Blue, and put on La Isla Bonita. As the Spanish guitars delicately evoked the clouds, her hands raised themselves in a flamboyant flamenco pose and she swayed rhythmically as her voice lifted in a passionate contralto:

"Tropical the island breeze
All of nature wild and free
This is where I long to be
La isla bonita..."

"BREAKFAST!!" Her mother called... "Plus vite! You'll miss the bus!" She quickly got dressed and went downstairs to eat. Her heart raced slightly as she thought about the day. She was leaving on a plane to Paris, for the Graines de Star audition. She had trained so hard for this day, memorizing her lyrics, her intonations; she had wanted to dance, but the dance competition was only for groups, so she decided to sing instead. After passing the regional casting call, she had dedicated hours every day to getting everything right. The poise, the breath, the voice; it she would have to give it everything if she wanted to make it to the finals.

nice work, nice work