I've committed to Nanowrimo for the seventh year.  I almost didn't.  It's distressing and frustrating and sucks at my self-confidence like nothing else.  It makes me feel like a failure in a way that nothing else can.

But it makes me write.

If I don't commit to it, I don't write a lot of fiction.  Maybe a burst every six months.

But every November for the last few years, I've written literally thousands of words.  I've brought vague, lingering ideas to life; I've fleshed out characters; I've explored worlds.

Every November for the last few years, I've bashed out incoherent paragraphs figuring I'll fit them in properly later. I've exhausted ideas that I now never want to hear of again.  I've killed my love for characters, and tired of worlds.

I've doubted my writing abilities, my imagination, my creativity, my storytelling.  I've convinced myself that I'm incapable of finishing anything.

The one year I hit 50,000 words? (50,299 to be precise).  I was maybe a chapter away from finishing the actual story.  The third quarter needed totally replacing and didn't really fit with the main story.  Four or five years later, I still haven't written that final chapter, even though I know what the outcomes are to be.  I haven't even typed it all up, let alone re-written part three.  I didn't fall out of love with the characters or the world, and I think about it a lot, and it breaks my heart.

Every November I've made a few new friends, and reconnected with old ones.  Bonding with someone over Nanowrimo is an experience that stands alone.  I've had one more conversation-starter than usual.  I've discovered some new cafes and new writing software.  My productivity has increased as a result of using The Work I'm Supposed To Be Doing as a distraction from writing.

Every year I tell myself I'm doing it to make myself write.  The 50,000 is irrelevant.  I just need to write some words.  More than none.  Then I'm a winner.  But not hitting 1,667 per day still feels like a gut-wrenching failure.  Finding out someone else is further on than me brings me down a notch.  Even with my inner-editor firmly silenced (she crawls into the cupboard of her own accord on the 1st of November these days) the inability to just sit down and churn out words right off the bat is crushing.

But it does make me write.

Writing fiction is my first love.  What I wanted to be when I grew up was "author".  It was a complicated word I knew when I was quite little.  Along with "aspidistra", but that's another story.

Imagine if I'd gone on to study it?  If I was writing because someone told me to write?  If I had to write to move forward in life?  I'd probably have burnt out well before now.

I guess it hurts so much because it means so much.

And that's why I have to get over myself and just get on with it.  If... when?... if I succeed, where success is writing a story I'm happy with, regardless of length, the boost will be indescribable.  I'll get a new lease on life.  I'll be sure I can do anything.

I'm going to the Edinburgh NanoBeans launch party tomorrow.  It's at 2pm in Forest Cafe.  I'm going to add loads of new people (People Who Understand) on various social networks to increase the chances of being asked how it's going.  Mostly I'll just have to shrug and say slowly, and feel guilty about that movie I watched or that extra batch of brownies I baked.  But maybe... just maybe there will be a time this year when I can say "it's going great! I'm ahead of target."

And just for some encouragement, here's are some pictures from 2008:

Thanks Nano.  I need you.  Never leave.

T'was the night before Nano.

A world swims in my head.

I'm way scared of planning.

I'm alone in my bed.

Don't know if I'll sleep.

Oh, what have I done?

Maybe I'll dream all fifty thousand tonight.

Don't panic; it'll be fun!

I'm not aiming to 'win' though.

Just aiming wto write.

Any words better than no words.

I'm sure my PhD will be alright.

It's day nine, and I'm on two thousand, eight hundred and seventy words.

A quick calculation might tell you that that means I'm quite behind schedule.  This may be my worst year yet.  There's still plenty of time to get back on track though!  Right..?!

I've only spent any time writing on about three or four of those nine days so far.  But I have been to a conference, organised some SocieTea events, read bits and pieces related to my PhD, cleaned my flat, watched a few episodes of Arrested Development, learnt some new crochet stitches and started crocheting a hat, and baked a lot.

I did meet the Edinburgh NanoBeans and had a great time at the write-in in Pulp Fiction last Wednesday.  We may have spent more time collaboratively developing the backstory of Pedro the Guide Bear (a troubled young grizzly attired in an Elvis costume and boater hat who constantly struggles against his estranged father, Yogi, the leader of an organised crime syndicate) than actually writing our novels though.

I have learnt one particularly important thing this year, that's never come up before.

Talking ideas through with other people is really useful!  

Last Sunday, Beth helped me explain the absence of a main character's mother and fix a potential looming plot hole with one fell swoop.  Telling Kit about the various civilisations and layout of the land in my world allowed him to pick holes and question things, raising, and partially solving, some things that didn't make sense or yet more potential looming plotholes.  And Caitlin (a new NanoBeans writing buddy) pointed out that just because a character had been anticipating reading a letter for the last thousand words, didn't necessarily mean the letter had to contain anything interesting... it could be a disappointment to the character... which helped, as I hadn't figured out what the letter said, and all of a sudden the character was opening it.

I sure wish blogging about Nano counted towards the word count.

That's write right, it's the eve of Nanowrimo.

Last year, my MSc got violently in the way and I clocked out at about 15,000 words.  I'm hoping that this year, my PhD will make friends with my month of literary abandon, and both will come out better for it.

I stumbled into a new world last May, wandered around and met some characters over the summer, and have been mulling over them ever since.  I put pen to paper to draw a map today, and discovered that more of the world was there than I thought.

I have three viewpoint characters, and next I'm going to draw some squiggly lines on a piece of paper to figure out where their paths cross, and what might happen to them along the way.  Over the years I'm becoming more inclined towards plotting in advance, but a large part of me never really thinks it'll help.

I've been reading A Song of Ice and Fire, and am now gagging to create a world with half as much depth and drama as GRRM has done.  Mine will be fantasy, with a hint of sci-fi and a dash of Ancient Egypt (probably no medieval knights).

This year I'm going to work in yWriter in an attempt to keep on top of things as I expand settings and characters.

I'm hoping to attend more than just the launch party for the Edinburgh Nanobeans group this time round.  Though they do meet across the wrong side of town, so I might also start my own write-ins (consisting of just me) in Himalaya Cafe on South Clerk St. (it's ever so comfy, and the chai is the best).  If you're writing too, and in that neck of the woods, come and join me.  I'm tentatively saying I'll be there between 10 and 11am every day (except Sunday, they're closed), starting on the 5th.  (This is going to cost me a fortune in chai, isn't it..)

Stay tuned for progress updates.  Or lackthereof.

PS. I know I promised notes on papers related to my PhD... One day.  One day.

Suddenly I find myself having to write some fiction to a deadline.  A deadline that isn't Nanowrimo, that is.  This isn't something I've had to do since my English language GCSE.  I deliberately avoided pursuing creative writing in any formal or academic manner, for fear the joy would be sucked from something I love; for fear it would become a chore, or an obligation.

But this semester I've imposed this on myself out of determination that my supposedly 'interdisciplinary' masters actually deviate from Web or software development at some point.  Not that making writing fiction a part of my final project has in any way reduced the programming.  Indeed, I've just added it on top of an already substantial project outcome.

But making an Interactive Fiction engine feels much more valuable if I actually write some fiction for it, doesn't it?

Suddenly, realistically, I have mere weeks to get this done.  My subconscious has been working on it since about December of last year, but I haven't had many committal thoughts.  So it's time to make (and justify) some decisions.

I already decided that, quite obviously really, the piece needs to revolve heavily around the city of Edinburgh.  (Obvious, as the reader will be experiencing it whilst wandering around the city, and I'm studying the affects of physical environment on immersion in a text).  As such, I figured doing research about local myths and legends, particularly stories relevant to specific places, is pertinent.  Look out for updates on that.  Historic and mythical local characters might be useful too.

Ian Rankin has famed the Edinburgh streets with his novels, but I'm no crime writer, nor mystery nor thriller.  I write science fiction and fantasy; imagining new worlds comes far more naturally to me than conjuring stories in this one.  And my time is too short to venture into an unfamiliar genre.  So this leaves me trying to figure out how to set a story on the real world streets of Edinburgh whilst maintaining a fantastical element so that I keep my sanity and confidence in the prose.

One potentially helpful aspect of Interactive Fiction, is that generally the stories are written in the second person.  The main character is a perspective taken by the user/reader/player.  This means there is a primary role that I don't have to develop too much as a character.  Just enough to fit in with the context of whatever plot starts to develop, but with adequate openness to allow the user to project themselves into the character's place.  Nonetheless, I'm going to need some attachment to this character in order to engage myself in the writing process.  I know from experience that I'm far less motivated to write about/for characters who don't interest me, but when I discover a character I feel really involved with, I miss them and desire to write more.

That's the interesting point, really.  I don't feel much as though I'm writing characters or their stories, but discovering them and learning about them through the writing process.  I've lost control of characters before; they've behaved unexpectedly or undesirably, sometimes even changing the whole course of a previously loosely planned plot. The same might apply to imaginary places or even objects.

Because I don't have time to find a fresh character, world, setting that I love, I have concluded that I need to hook this story back to something I've written in the past.  Something I'm already invested in.  This connection is only meaningful to me (until the glorious day the still unfinished, few-year-old novel gets published!) so it needs to be loose.  But enough to give me context.  The connection I have settled on is Milo's World, the subject of my 2008 Nanowrimo; my only successful attempt at reaching fifty thousand words in thirty days, though I have yet to write the ending to the story.  Also part three needs rewriting completely, those were dark days.  Not to mention the rest of it.  But that's neither here nor there.

The important thing is, I met a couple of characters with whom I had great fun.  I hung out with them for massive chunks of their childhoods.  I learnt what makes them tick, and I learnt their secrets.

The point-of-view character in Milo's World is Dusty.  I first met him as a four year old, and quickly discovered he had access to a secret world, where he regularly snuck off to play with a boy his own age, Milo, who seemed to live full-time in this world.  They had all sorts of innocent adventures, and gradually met other occupants.  I spent time with Dusty and Milo again aged eight, to find that not much had changed.  They had befriended some strange creatures, and were privvy to experiences they could not understand yet.  At age twelve, they were growing up.  Dusty has gained a few home-world friends, has developed an amazing talent for drawing caricatures, and his parents have long since assumed that he's over the 'imaginary friend' stage.  But his grip on their 'reality' is disjointed.  There are more kids around in Milo's world, living in a network of tunnels and working and playing together, and with the creatures of the world.  One species of creatures in particular have introduced curious technologies and ways of thinking.  When Dusty is sixteen years old, he is balancing regular high school drama with other-worldly adventures, but just barely.  He and Milo are working with one of the creatures to learn about a contraption that they played with in their youth, and have dubbed The Reality Machine.  Using it is hit and miss, and many of the things they find out about it, they learn the hard way.  When Milo's world and Dusty's home-world begin to bleed together through misuse of the Machine, things start to take a turn for the confusing.  Cue the hilarious, semi-cliffhanger ending, strongly linked with Dusty's drawing skills, I haven't written yet.

So where am I going with this?  In my Palimpsest story, Dusty is grown up.  Long since grown up.  He is old, mad-scientist-proffesor-ly, and living in a world that bears the consequences of his actions as a child.  Right away we have the existence of and ability to cross between alternative realities (via an understood and controllable Reality Machine, in case you hadn't cottoned).  Splendid.  I'm in my comfort zone already.  So how about... the playable character is Dusty's lab assistant.  Their age, gender, appearance, don't matter.  Their temperament matters probably only a little bit.  What matters is the fact that they have the ability to zip around in space and time.  Whaddya know?  Every single exciting era of Edinburgh's history is open to us to explore.

All I need now is a reason Dusty might have sent his assistant across to Edinburgh in our version of reality; something to pursue, something to figure out.  Or just a malfunctioning Reality Machine.

I call this a start.

As always, comments and suggestions welcome!

I've never sat up and counted down to the first of November before.

In 2007 I used Nanowrimo as an opportunity to kick myself into writing some more of a novel I started many years ago (reaching 35k new words by the end of the month) and in 2008 I took part in earnest, came up with a totally fresh idea the night before and hit the fifty thousand, two hundred and twenty ninth word of Milo's World before midnight on the 30th. It was, quite simply, the best feeling.

In both 2009 and 2010, my degree objected strongly, and I didn't even try.

This year, I know what being too busy to take part feels like, and I know what missing out feels like. But I also know what taking part feels like, and I know what winning feels like.

This year, I'm writing an old idea in a new way. A short story from around 2007 sparked novel scribblings in 2009, which got left to fester. Looking at these scribblings with eyes two years older, I plan to take the core concept and solidify it into something readable.

That's the theory, at least.

I'm terribly excited about creating some new lives. Then destroying one of those lives, and watching the effects cascade.

I'm mostly nervous because I've never written anything set truly in this universe before. Fifty percent of Milo's World was, and that fifty percent was from the point of view of a child with an enormously vivid imagination, so that doesn't really count.

A good chunk of Currently Untitled will be set inside the main character's head; a head which is subject to the physics and realities of this universe regardless of how much her mind tries rebel against them.

Her name is Harriet, by the way, and her little daughter is Rosy. I'll probably tweet about them as real people, because for the next 30 days, they might as well be. Rosy's dad is called Zeke, and Harriet's inconsequential boyfriend's name is Paul, as far as I know. I'm also aware of the existence of Patrice, a panda with an eye patch, and Arthur, a tiny penguin.

I'll probably post some extracts here. But I can't post daily progress, because of various linearity issues that I may or may not elaborate on in time.

But now, I'm going to stare at the counter on the front page of the Nanowrimo site, and try to figure out that first line...