Finished!

With much encouragement (ouch! that whip stings!) from the redoubtable Tiffany, welcome distractions from fellow WriMos G, M and K, plus a good bit of Irish coffee, YT has finished his novel for the second time in four years. Long live NaNoWriMo! More excerpts after this novelist, emptied for a while of words, catches up on his sleep.

Word count after 30 days: 50,735

Thundering down the home stretch

Writing still goes in fits and starts. YT will have a 500 word day followed by a 4,000 word rush. It turns out to be no problem at all writing a thousand-word scene when in the flow. YT gave 12,000 words to the tumultuous weekend when Ron and Tamara go too far, too fast. Yes, your humble author has followed his own rule and written a sex scene when blissfully not on deadline. Well, there's a little sex and a lot of sensual impressions, followed by the traditional morning after breakfast of omelets (him), biscuits (her) and second thoughts (both).

Next scene is probably where Ron and Tamara see each other on Tuesday, after a lost Saturday, tense breakfast Sunday and make-up phone call Sunday night. YT has no idea what they'll say. At least that's the plan -- YT has pumped up the word count by writing scenes out of order, and damn the plot holes! Excerpts from this, uh, fine artistic flow will be forthcoming in the blog.

A note on word count. The number below is the "official" count from the NaNoWriMo web site. yWriter is more optimistic by about sixty words. Weird. Microsoft Word give the author about twenty more words than the official number. It's hard to say what would cause this, but YT will use caution and go over the finish line with a few hundred words to spare, just in case.

Word count after 27 days: 43,207

Novel Excerpt, Chapter 5

Excerpt from Grand Theft Cambridge, Chapter 5. Ron Russo's employer sends everyone home on the first really nice Friday afternoon in April. Ron is sitting at an outdoor cafe table off Kenmore Square, enjoying the day, when a lithe, attractive woman walks up. With a little reminder, he realizes she is Martha Soares, a stripper from the Pussycat Club. The club doubles as venture capital meeting room for Silvio Carlini, whom Ron is advising on the side. Martha was to have delivered Ron's "bonus" at the club, which Ron turned into a thoughtful favor after a few confusing moments. Now Martha demands a real-life favor from him.

Martha said, "Oh, I'll order for myself. You're going to return a favor, though."

Ron was surprised again. "I don't understand. Weren't we even back at the club?"

The waitress, sensing a lover's quarrel, took Martha's order with alacrity.

"Oh, you are so naive, Ron. I couldn't take your gift any more than I could stuff your card in my pocket. The rule is customers don't touch, though possibly I wouldn't have minded you. It also means cash business only, no favors, no gifts. Silvio or even Helen would have fired me for getting involved. I know you didn't mean anything but good. That was a nice gift, but one I couldn't take. I've gotta tell you, I have been real tempted to call your office number since I realized you wouldn't be doing regular business with Silvio. But this means we are just two friends who happened to meet on the street."

"Oh. Wow. I don't know where to start. I'm sorry if I got you into trouble."

"No, you didn't because I stuffed your card in my bag, then went back and laughed about you with Helen."

"Ouch. But nothing came of it?"

"Well, I think some of the dancers were talking about the wimp techie who came in, and trying to figure out how to make easy money off of guys like you."

"So, you're right. I owe you at least a coffee, and maybe dinner."

"No, that was a sweet gesture you made. Giving something to me, not taking. But remember the thing I did give you."

"Well, I have to say I liked you leaning into me back then."

"No, dummy. My real name. That probably would get me fired. I know I look different in civilian clothes, but still..."

Ron looked around with worry. "Uh, you're not in danger now, are you?"

Martha laughed hard enough to draw attention. "You are so out of it! Look, none of the letches coming down from the neighborhoods or even the good suburbs are going to be down here today. And the frat boys that find their way out to Revere aren't going to recognize me dressed. So, no, like I said, we're just two friends talking without a care in the world."

"Okay, especially today." Ron swept his arm toward the sky.

"Yeah, it is a nice day to be walking around down here. But the thing is, I gave you the gift of my name. That's a huge no-no. Look, how do we tell someone's not a stalker, or thinks what I do is real?"

"It looks real enough."

"Liar. I know who was out there with all you tech boys. I know I do it better then Shera -- I mean, Char -- uh, let's just say the other one. But it's not real to anyone not hooked on fantasy before he even comes in the door. So, anyway, you know a secret, and you're clueless enough to maybe, possibly cause me a little danger. So I want something back from you."

"Uh, Mr. Clueless can hardly imagine what. But I'm game, and I'll honor my debt."

"Okay, then. I would like a favor. Look, out of high school I've worked fast food, then bartending, then a year of, uh, dancing." With wholesome college students on every side, Martha dropped her voice at her latest job. "So I could clean up for a few years. I've already put away $14,000 out of my tips." Ron whistled at that number. Martha said, "Yeah, I know what I'm doing. But, Jesus, it's not real. It's fantasyland on and off the stage, and in the back rooms, and I'd give up a lot to have conversations with normal people like you every day."

"You called me normal. That's an improvement."

"Shut up. So, anyway, I'm not dumb. I can read the Globe want ads. Tech is going crazy right now. And they can't possibly be a hundred percent wizards like you. So I want your help getting a job in tech. Electronics. Software. Internet. Biotech. There have to be hourly jobs you don't need a PhD for."

"Well, high school diploma... I'll be honest, just guessing what you make from what you've put away, the money would be a big step down."

"I live in a three-room apartment that's clean only because my Korean landlord won't let it go to hell. I live clean and I don't spend my money on crap. My damn cousins gave me furniture because my family doesn't want to know about my life. So having money is only a little part of the picture."

"Well, okay, what can I do for you?"

The waitress, still sensing a quarrel, set a large cafe au lait in front of Martha, then hurried away.

Martha said, "Well, you're clueless about my world. I'm not into yours at all, and I want to learn."

Ron said, "All right."

"And the real favor is, I want you to get me in to talk with a couple of people. Not get me a job, but get me to where I can get a shot at a job."

"Well..." Ron thought about it. "Seems to me the problem breaks down into three parts. You need to look and act the right way, one. Two, you need to know what jobs you might be good at. And three, you need to get in the door somewhere."

"Do you do this kind of thing all the time?"

"When I heard this quote, 'Every engineer looks at life as a series of problems to be solved,' that was a lightbulb moment. Yeah, I do. That's part of who I am."

"So you're saying I need to do more than just try my luck."

Another outpouring

So, this year is turning out to have a very uneven pace. Yesterday and today were both 4,000 word days, following a drought. How'd that happen. YT's sleep patterns are still screwed up is one reason. ML Tiff and the amazing duo of M and G dragging this author into word wars accounts for some. Finally getting to write the job seeking advice scene accounts for a lot! Even so, there's still a good sense of forward motion this year. Onward.

Word count after 17 days: 24,273

Television is the imagination killer

Well, TV and the hard slog of work, trying to figure out tests for software that has no specification. Man, YT had a great first four days, and then nothing, just staring off at the idiot box, or sleeping.

Made up for it tonight somewhat, despite hilarious distractions at the Friday write-in. Solid sessions this weekend, that's the plan. Shake the wood out of those characters, author!

Word count after 9 days: 12,202

Novel Excerpt, Chapter 2

From Grand Theft Cambridge, Chapter 2. The new company is staffing up through networking and word-of-mouth. Tamara takes the opposite tack. She seeks out a startup company she can go to work for under false pretenses. On her first attempt, she sells herself for a job that doesn't exist yet.

The plan came together like clockwork. It all came down to framing the story. Tamara knew there were plenty of dot-com companies starting up on a shoestring, hoping for an easy way to find low-level employees who could take care of themselves. All she had to do was invent herself as competent but not competition, good at some job that didn't come with the description of "engineering discipline" or "business specialty." So Tamara Lamppinen became a college dropout with brisk organizing skills.

Her friend Rebecca, hearing her plan, had jumped into the conspiracy immediately. Four years in Boston turned into a clerk's job at Mass Bay Insurance, where Rebecca answered all the employment checking calls. Tam had grown in competence beyond her job, and Mass Bay had a long-term hiring freeze, so they were sorry to see her move on.

Kennealy was slightly harder to bring in line. Tamara held the title of Research Assistant, putting together information folders from portfolio lists. She was good, too. She knew by now where to look for the best research reports for different kinds of stocks, funds and bonds. Roger Miskin, her boss, knew exactly how well her work freed up his time to hand-hold more customers. The problem with her career at Kennealy Asset Management, though, boiled down to what Miskin politely called her "testosterone deficit." Her career path was determined at birth, or at least until old Mr. Kennealy finally gave up control to his son.

Miskin appreciated her perhaps too much, realizing his own ethical opposition to "office hijinks" with subordinates was stronger than his attraction to tall women. He'd said as much directly to Tamara's face. So, he volunteered to take reference calls dumbing down her job and expressing regret over a vague office reorganization. He repeatedly mentioned that helping Tamara bluff her way into a dot-com job would "solve both our problems." Tamara took this to mean removing temptation from his life, since Roger trusted her with these potentially explosive truths, and thought her double life would make for a great adventure. Poor Roger, a romantic soul without the will to be romantic himself!

When one of her Wednesday night group mentioned the "lost boys" inhabiting one of the buildings on the barely gentrified streets behind Lotus, Tamara printed out a fresh, one-page resume and practiced her Gal Friday character in front of the mirror. The next day, a quick trip across the Charles made her grab for the brass ring.

E-Style was a group of twenty people figuring out how to inhabit the third floor of an old brick industrial building. Voices echoed off the high ceiling of the large, open space, desks seemed placed almost at random around the floor, and the back of the place was a jumble of boxes, computers and trash. Tamara spend a few minutes trying to get anyone's attention. A harried computer geek passed her off to a suit named Carter, who was mildly flummoxed by her appearing out of nowhere, asking about jobs. He made her wait 20 minutes until another well-dressed man walked out. Paul Madrowski listened politely to her introduction, then admitted they wouldn't have a personnel manager for another couple of weeks. He wasn't sure he could help at the moment, though he appreciated her initiative.

Tamara said, "But I already know what I can do for you."

Madrowski demurred, "Then you already have a better idea than me."

"Look," Tamara pressed, "just look around you! This whole place is disorganized. I'll bet nobody here knows how to set up office space."

"Well, we'll get to that eventually," admitted Madrowski.

"That probably goes for even the office supplies. Are you buying them on credit cards and paying from petty cash?"

"About half, yes."

"How about coffee and cola? How far do these guys have to walk to get a cup of coffee? Closest place I saw was two blocks away. Meetings. I'll bet you just stand wherever you find empty whiteboards. Schedules. You're an executive here, right?"

"Yes, we have three executives, including me."

"Bet you have a hard time getting together unless you all happen to have free time. Visitors. I wandered around for five minutes before anyone even recognized I was an outsider. What if it's someone important?"

Madrowski was subdued. "I won't say you're right about everything, but I'll admit the things you say happen a lot around here." He sighed. "So this is the point where you tell me you can fix everything."

Tamara leaned forward. "No."

Pausing to let this sink in, she continued, "I can't make everything always go smoothly, but I can organize you. That's my talent, that's what I want to do. Let me be blunt: how many people do you have here who are not on salary?"

Let 100,000 WriMos Bloom

This year there seems to be a grassroots flavor to NaNoWriMo. Browsing around, YT found the usual spate of newspaper articles on the contest, but the top Google hits were from smaller newspapers. The Worcester Telegram ran a nice article, which will no doubt disappear into paid archives a week or two after this blog entry is written. No matter: here's the key piece of information.




NaNoWriMo is growing by about 20,000 writers per year, pretty impressive, and the novel completion rate is hanging in at just under 20%. Of course, the chances of getting a NaNo novel published are still tiny.

But this year feels different. The NaNo official web site has been slow, slow, slow this year. ML Tiffany is taking a more laissez-faire attitude, so there's a lot of buzz about setting up meetings here, there and everywhere around Detroit. Last night at Z's we got six writers in total. Today in Royal Oak and tomorrow night in Waterford, YT would not be surprised if the numbers are similar. What's different is there might be some informal gathering going every day of the week.

So the atmosphere is one of creative ferment.

Oh! The Outpouring!

Two days, 8,701 words. As they say on the day of the Michigan-Michigan State game, holy cow! Where did that geyser come from? YT must really have been ready to let it all hang out this year.

Some of the reason must be the planning. YT made about 8 pages of notes over the course of several lunch hours and evenings, full of ideas about the characters and some of the scenes. There was even a kind of bullet-point business plan for E-Style, a frame for all the stuff that will happen inside the company. Not to be too historically accurate, the idea here is that the dot-com company is sniffing around the beginnings of what we see now on Amazon or Netflix: "People who bought this book also bought..."

With all this background, the first two chapters - yes, all these words in two chapters! - were about the dealmaking to fund the company, and then how it got going as a real concern. With all the detail, some if it is dull and didactic. Well, most of it. But a steady tap-tap-tap did the trick. There will be an excerpt or two down-blog soon.

Given the planning and outlining starting this year, much of the credit for the huge word count has to go to yWriter 3. Past entries here have noted how writing goes quickly when YT gets "in the zone," or "the characters start speaking for themselves." This is Csikszentmihalyi's notion of flow, where a person becomes fully immersed in his task, and the outer world falls away. It's easier to experience than to describe, but trust your friendly blogger here. Good tools can help a person enter the state of flow, and yWriter definitely has that character of "tool-ness." Other people have praised it online in fairly purple prose. YT hasn't used half the features, which look like they're aimed at someone far more organized, but he will say that it just works. After two days this writer is sold.

Of course, latent talent, or sheer perverse wordiness, perhaps, has a lot to do with this early success. So does taking a couple of vacation days just to write.

Word count after 2 days: 8,701

Liftoff

First sentence: "Isosceles triangle, elongated rectangle: Ron wondered why, moments before his first venture consulting gig began, he was reduced to guessing the size of the dancer's G-string."

10.. 9.. 8..

Just under 24 hours to the start of NaNoWriMo. Today, YT had to remind himself just to make notes, and save the real writing for November 1. Fleshed out a couple of characters today, figured out some relationship scenes... Time to climb back up on the high wire: GCT might just work out okay!

Just A Few Days More...

Well. YT has a semi-generic story outline and a list of 40 scenes. PlotMo turned out to be a lunchtime's worth of brainstorming, leading to short descriptions like:

• Silvio begins to suspect company will succeed.
• Russo gets interested in writer
• Russo gives career advice to stripper

This turned out to be a useful exercise: a new character needs to be added to set the company on the right track, leading to more complications for everyone. And Ron Russo will set the stripper on quite a career path, quite successfully.

* * *

Having blown the weekend for doing the scutwork to set up all of these points in yWriter, YT went to the Detroit area kickoff party, where 24 or 25 people showed up. A good time was definitely had by all. As Tiffany pointed out, a few had come in tentative and left enthusiastic. Oh, this time around things are going to start on a good note.

Using a new writer's tool

This year YT will be trying out some new tools and techniques to stay organized and on track. One tool that looks like a sure thing is yWriter3, novel writing software created by a real novelist. It's free, oriented toward scenes and characters, and reasonably compatible with other word processors. It has several nice features that look like they were inspired by NaNoWriMo: progress toward daily word count, storyboards, places for scene summaries and goal-conflict-resolution notes.

YT will have more to say about yWriter as the month progresses.

Novel Blurb 2007

Since this has been posted on the NaNoWriMo Michigan regional forum, why not here? Here are the vague mumblings of the previous post, crafted into a polished elevator pitch. GTC is starting to take shape.

GENRE: Satire

WORKING TITLE: Grand Theft Cambridge

BLURB: During the dot-com boom of the 1990s, new companies using the Internet to get big fast were followed by companies that did just enough to go through the motions of success. Carter Hayes and his handpicked MBA buddies at E-Style have a foolproof business plan: do a little work to make their software "shopping assistant" real enough to get noticed by big retailers, then ride their stock options to riches when some big, old-line company opens its wallet. What they don't realize is that all the other E-Stylers have their own extra plans, from Suresh and Ganesh, their tame MIT engineers, to Leticia Tamara, the admin who takes a lot of notes, to financial angel Silvio, who runs his venture capital business out of a strip club.

* * *

Okay, YT admits this is cribbed somewhat from The Producers, Microserfs and all of those "new ways of doing business" books from the era that turned out to be completely wrong. But, hey, anything this author can dream up won't be nearly as bizarre as stuff that actually happened.

Countdown to Year Four

I am persuaded that most writers, like most shoemakers,
are about as good one day as the next, hangovers apart.
- John Kenneth Galbraith

So, dear readers, all three of you... Yours Truly is foolish enough to try NaNoWriMo yet again, and this blog will serve yet again as a collection bin for asides, random thoughts, off topic rants and general musings about the fine art of creative writing.

Read back a couple of posts to the Year Three Introduction. It stands, as is, for this year, too.

YT has given a lot of thought to the Year Two novel, or rather how it could be turned into a real novel with such niceties as three-dimensional characters, believable dialog and properly paced plot. It makes sense but still needs a better Act Three. The gizmo novel from Year Three is banished to the bottomest of bottom drawers, more like a lead-lined crypt. YT guesses it is possible to write fiction too close to real life, something he found he has no stomach for, all things considered. But that's the past and sometime future.

This year's idea was going to be a satire about who decided when the turn of the century should be held. But a chance remark on an e-mail list gave YT an even better idea. Flash back to the heady days of the dot-com boom. Some companies made their founders outrageously rich on the promise of a revolutionary product, the merest whisper of sweet buzzwords in the ears of big money that wanted to be glamorous no matter what. So what if the entrepreneurs weren't the only ones looking to ride the boom for their own purposes? Voila, YT gives his kind readers Grand Theft Cambridge.

Oh, yeah, about plot... Years One, Two and especially Three ran out of steam eventually because of lack of thinking through a plot. It's fine for the characters to have adventures, but eventually they have to stop milling around and actually go somewhere. The stream of consciousness that is NaNo needs to run in a deeper channel. So this year October is YT's private NaNoPlotMo: one plot point per day, thirty plus an epilogue idea by the end of the month.

Yeah, yeah, it's not supposed to mean anything besides letting loose the Inner Temperamental Artist, but you know what? YT is just a tad bit enamoured of the notion he can write better than some published author, somewhere. Okay, better than Kristen Haring -- that's an easy hurdle to jump. Heh. So November will either confirm this crazy notion or deliver a message from Mundane Reality. Either way, Thursday, November 1, can't come too soon!

Year Three Fizzle, Year Two Redux

Well, that was a bust... YT got to 3,200 words in a few, futile sessions. Excuses? Stress at work, attempts to relieve stress by satirizing work in the novel, Responsibility Junkie not caged with Inner Editor for the month of November, instead sucking away all spare time that should have been spent on the novel. The list goes on much farther than YT's readers -- all three of you! -- would really care about. And the novel sounded so promising before the fact!

No matter. Thanks to the wonders of Linux and science fiction, YT has got some feedback on the Year Two novel. Good feedback, more than the author expected and perhaps a little different from what his friendly critics intended. Our old friend Lena may have some life left in her after all. YT tried to tack something on in front of the terrific first sentence he'd devised. It didn't work. But YT realized the novel would have to change in some of its approach to the reader. Also, the arc of Lena's personal journey became much clearer. YT knows what she must leave behind to become more fully human. And the author now has a terrific second sentence.

In other news, the redoubtable and talented MontiLee has Turned Pro, meaning she's (a) gotten published and (b) will continue to get published. God help us if she doesn't show up in November, because the rest of the WriMo group will be left too much in their comfort zones.

There's the nub of it. The novel only works, and the novel-writing, and the inspiration, if the writer can bravely walk away from comfort. As will Lena someday. As perhaps will the guy in Year Four's novel, who thinks he has the great idea of the century, if not the millennium.