So, I'm getting NaNoWriMo spam

YaYa

Moriveth wrote: »

Like peanut butter and, uh, motor oil?

exactly!

okay in this scene a mechanic is eating peanut butter but oil is falling onto his spoon so does he ignore it or not eat peanut butter or clean up or whaaaat

see conflict

Raijin Quickfoot

Maybe he doesn't realize the oil is there and accidentally ingests it. Instead of making him sick though, it transforms him...into a car that is more man then machine.

Quoth

Yeah it works with characters too

Figure out your main character's goal, make your antagonist have the same goal, or a mutually exclusive goal, then they duke it out

You can also have the antagonist have a similar flaw to the hero, but he doesn't overcome it at the end, or he can be an idealized version of the hero except for some different flaw that eventually leads to his downfall

ahava

I got quite a bit of planning done last year while at a cafe. The cafe was right outside the doctor's office that I had an appointment at.

I had a pot of tea, a netbook (with my nanowrimo bumper sticker on it) and everything.

Drew-B

Damn, the biggest inhibitor to my productivity right now is not being able to listen to podcasts or audio books while I write.

I'm so used to doing it any time I do computer work, it's like my ears are missing their usual white noise.

I've found that going to pandora and typing in Howard Shore or Skyrim Soundtrack really help.

ahava

my really epic moments in writing came while listening to the LOTR soundtrack. The year before it was Memoirs of a Geisha.

Pretty much anything light and easy.

Drew-B

Heh, are you like me and worry that what you're writing not be as 'epic' as it seems, because the person reading it probably won't have the Return of the King soundtrack pounding in the background when their turn comes?

Drew-B

Books should have soundtracks...

ahava

lol i actually at one point considered putting in stage notations on the side [please play Return of the King now]

but only if I'd needed to pad my word count. :P

Drew-B

Break off a piece o' novel

Sorry to just dump this here, but it gives me peace of mind, and the illusion that I am not writing this in a complete vacuum. If, for some reason, you do read it, I'd recommend resizing your browser so you're not having to read a crazy amount of words per line.

I continued to pore over the details of the night’s plan for another hour before noticing that my precious light had begun to fade. Leaning over to pick up the bellows once more, however, a faint disturbance caught my ear. I began to hear what sounded like the crackling of dry leaves crunching rhythmically to a slow and steady beat. I froze, quirking my head upward to listen more intently. The rustling grew louder, and it soon became apparent that someone or something was approaching my hovel from the western treeline. Whoever my visitor might be, he or she took little care to mask the heavy, sauntering footsteps. This comforted me, but only slightly.

I shifted once again, crawled off the stool, and began to creep quietly toward the window. I crept on the balls of my feet, taking care not to scuff the stone floor lest I miss an audible cue. I timed my steps with those of my visitor and was halfway across the room when the footsteps stopped abruptly. From what I could tell, they ceased no more than twenty steps away, close enough to see into my hovel through my waist-high windows. Pausing, I bent even lower to the floor, unsure of whether to continue my approach or wait for another clue as to who or where my visitor might be. The silence remained unbroken but for a gust of wind that briefly whistled by, carrying with it a swirl of fallen leaves that flaked against the window nearest me. I closed my eyes and listened more intently, though the sound of my beating heart was all that remained. I raised my hand and placed it against my chest as if to calm myself before a gruff voice beckoned.

“Fedir?” the gravelly voice called out with hesitation. “Have you hurt yourself?”

I snapped my head toward the window, surprised to see my assistant Martyn standing just outside the window, his arms crossed and a crooked grin showing unusually bright in the darkness.

“A little young for back trouble, aren’t you?” he asked, gesturing toward my crooked form. “It looks as though you’ve done some rearranging in there. That bench give you trouble?”

“Martyn, get your ass in here,” I said sharply, though I couldn’t help but laugh.

Standing upright, I stepped toward the heavy oak door and began unfastening the three pin-tumbler locks Martyn and I had installed last Spring, a symptom of desperate times prompting even more desperate thieves. We learned that lesson the hard way with two separate break-ins the previous year while away on business, though I suspect the abandoned look of my home may have led to the intrusions. With nothing of true value to call my own and nothing missing besides, it’s likely the intruders wanted nothing more than a roof over their heads, if only for a night.

With a final click, I swung the door open, and Martyn shuffled inside. A chill draft followed close behind, and I quickly slammed the door shut before setting to the locks once more.

“Took you long enough,” he said, rubbing one arm with the other. “It’s freezing out there.”

“You’re an hour early,” I said, ignoring his prod. “Scared me half to death sneaking up like that.”

Chuckling, Martyn reached out and shook my hand warmly, though his was as cold as ice.

“Grab the bellows over there,” I said. “I’ve got the forge going for lack of lamp oil. Why don’t you give it a few pumps and warm yourself? I need you focused on the task at hand tonight, not shivering in your boots.”

He took to the forge without comment as I glanced back at my notes, trying to remember where I had left off before Martyn’s arrival.

“It’s awfully dark in here,” Martyn said, giving the bellows a rest and cupping his brow with the side of his hand. “If I’d have known you’d skip out on candles again, I would have brought some of my own. You have a talent for working in the dark that I’ve yet to master, but I fear one day your eyes will punish you for it.”

“I’ve been a little preoccupied,” I said, gesturing toward the workbench. “If we’re going to do this, we need to be sharp. We need to be neat. We need to at least act like we know what the hell we’re doing. Besides, I’ve already spent enough money and time preparing for tonight. Running into town for a candle or two was the last thing on my mind.”

Martyn gave the bellows a few more strokes before turning to face me, his face was more solemn and there was a rare seriousness in his voice.

“We do know what we’re doing, right?” He asked quietly.

“I think we have a pretty good idea,” I said, trying to sound optimistic. I oversold my part, however, and the words came out awkward and unnecessarily cheerful. “Lord knows we’ve spent enough time and resources to make sure this doesn’t blow up in our faces.

“I’m afraid a more complicated plan does not necessarily increase our odds of success,” he said, turning to hold his hands above the glowing charcoal. “Though I wish that were the case.”

“Can you think of a more simple one?” I asked in earnest.

“Nope,” He said, shrugging. “Not that we have time to consider other alternatives at this point.”

“It’s a good plan,” I said in what I hoped was a reassuring tone. Martyn was only a few years younger than me, barely out of the academy, yet I felt a certain sense of responsibility for him. He is my assistant, afterall. His success is intertwined with my own, and should I fail, he will suffer for it.

“Well,” he said, turning to face me, his crooked grin spread once more across his face. “It just so happens that I hold in my pack the secret to our success.” Martyn threw his shoulder forward and a small leather pack came swinging by its frayed strap into his hands. “After all,” he said. “Such a night calls for...”

“A toast?” I said, interrupting his dramatic pause. “I do appreciate your attempts at theatrics old friend, but you seem to forget that I’ve only ever seen you carry wine in that pack of yours.”

“I have other packs,” he said, his tone slightly defensive. “This one just happens to be well-suited for spirits.”

Martyn pulled from the pack a long glass bottle filled with a velvet-colored vintage. He gave the bottle a swirl as if to get a better sense of how much wine remained, slid a few pieces of parchment to the side the the workbench, and gently placed the bottle between us.

“Good padding, you see,” he said, looking back toward his empty pack and giving it a hearty slap with the palm of his hand. “I’ve wasted both good wine and good shirts on bags less formidable. This pack? This pack and I have had many drunken nights together with nary a drop spilled.”

“Must your spirits always be so mobile?” I asked with a laugh, amused at his earnestness.

“Ah, Fedir, my old friend,” he said, pausing to think for a few moments, running a hand across his tousled, bushy hair. “Yes.”

“Fair enough,” I said, laughing once more. “A toast, then?”

“A toast!” Martyn said, pulling a couple of small tin cups from a pocket he had stitched haphazardly to the breast of his mud-colored cloak and placing them alongside the half-full bottle. His hands shook slightly while pouring a few swallows of wine into each cup, dribbling a few drops between each glass before quickly wiping them away with his sleeve. “And what sort of toast shall we have this evening, Fedir?”

“I think a toast to not getting ourselves killed tonight would be a good start,” I said with a wry smile.

“How about a toast to finishing the last of this vintage upon our return,” he said. “Or, as you say, to returning in the first place.”

“I like yours better,” I said. “Dark humor never really suited me. It’s just...” I began to trail off.

“I know,” Martyn said, breaking the brief silence. He gave me a serious look and slid one of the cups in my direction. I took the cup, and with a mutual nod, we tipped our heads back and downed the vintage in unison.The wine was sour, but satisfying.

“If all goes to hell tonight, we can at least take solace in one thing,” Martyn said, setting his cup back onto the workbench and giving it a twirl beneath his forefinger.

“Oh?” I said. “What’s that?”

“It’s shit wine, anyway.”

Quoth

Sup

Butler For Life #1

hello NaNo thread

I might write something this year

I won't have time to go all the way, but I'm going to write something

maybe sci-fi stuff

Enc

I'm gonna write about a man trapped in a room with a cellphone and another man trapped in a cellphone with a room.

I'm gonna call it:

man trapped in a room with a cellphone and another man trapped in a cellphone with a room

Butler For Life #1

make sure to include a line about the room being like a prison... cell

Moriveth

So I've been thinking of a post-apocalyptic thing.

basically I like the idea t a group springing up after the apocalypse that just focuses entirely on optimism, in a creepy intense way. Their cities are impeccably clean and everyone is cheerful and hopeful for the future, but this is because of basically being brainwashed out of the realities of the situation everyone is in. Nearly everything is provided for people in this society but they're not allowed to be negative in any way. People from the society often don't last long out of the cities once they realize how bad shit really is.

Anyone is free to join the society if they want, but they must submit to what basically amounts to a benevolent dictatorship that champions ignorance and isolation (they refuse to help anyone that isn't part of their group) over anything else.

Does that sound at all interesting?

MadEddy

I'd read it.

smof

As would I. I love post-apocalyptic stuff.

smof

In my own nano news, I am fuuucked. I ditched my first idea and took ages to come up with another, but think I'm going to ditch that one too. I just can't get anything going. Annoying as hell.

Moriveth

I also thought that

maybe this society views unrestrained emotion as the root cause of the apocalypse, so as you prove your worth to the society you're allowed to express more emotion? Maybe there's even some sort of mind control thing preventing you from doing so unless they allow it.

Raijin Quickfoot

I have a solid post-apocalyptic idea I've been working on as well.

Something called Ocean City. Basic premise is the atmosphere is destroyed and humans are living in cities surrounded by bubbles with artificial oxygen. People start being born with "gills" that allow them to breathe in the toxic air outside the bubbles and one man goes in search of a legendary place called Ocean City. Supposedly a city that exists in the middle of an ocean that was unaffected by the toxic waste that destroyed the world.

I don't know, something else I've been tossing around in the old skull.

smof

But... dinosaur president??

Raijin Quickfoot

I'm definitely running with the dinosaur conspiracy,

TrueHereticX

So I came up with an idea. Which I think is quite lame. But which I'm going to run with cause the only other thing I got is Star Wars Fanfiction.

Idea is:

For 10,000 years Dragons have been lost to the world, but their descendants, the Drakeskin (the results of thousands of years of half dragon interbreeding) have their place in the world. Our hero, the mild mannered Drakeskin Lorekeeper Belial, spends his days in a musty old library in an abandoned Dragon's lair, where he has uncovered a strange prophecy mentioning the Return of Dragons to the world. Hijinks ensue.

Quoth

Sounds jinky

Dragons are cool

TrueHereticX

Jinky means shitty right?

I'm not up with the lingo.

I'm hoping I can inject something worthwhile into it. It's the only solid idea I've had for a while.

Quoth

Jinky as in hijinks

I was sort of doing a Peewee

TrueHereticX

Ah. Haven't watched a Peewee movie in years.

Must remedy that.

Ten

Since we're sharing post apocalyptic ideas, here is the one I've been stewing over for the past 6 months:

Humanity has reached the peaceful, utopian ideal - vast shining cities spread out across the globe, maintained by an army of robots that perform every menial task, leaving humans to enjoy the fruits of thousands of years of struggle.

And then a vast alien entity passes by and accidentally kills every living thing on the planet.

The story begins some 300 years later, when the robots and computers that managed the city have succeeded in cloning humans from what little living material was left in deep freeze. We'll follow a small group of children, raised by machines, who escape the facility they've been raised in and find a pristine world waiting for them, empty of human life but teeming with robots who have kept the cities maintained. They have to come to terms with the fact that they were created with the responsibility to repopulate the human race.

I'm not sure how it's going to end, at least some of the group will accept the responsibility and come back to the facility to continue on the path the machines set them on. One of them will probably stay in the city and just live out a solitary life. I need to work out the characters better, I've only got a vague idea of how they will relate to each other and what their goals are.

I was thinking about telling the story in a series of small vignettes, to better show time passing and really get a sense of peeking into the lives of these children at different points - their escape from the facility might be a larger piece, but once they're out they all go their separate ways and live as adults in the city for a while, and I want to show different aspects of that too.

Old Red Ink

I'm tempted to try this this year. The last piece of fiction I wrote was a three-page story for high school English. I don't see what could possibly go wrong.

Uriel

I kind of want to try this now too.

I have the most comprehensive notes and stuff I've ever made for something like this started and I think I can at least manage a dozen pages this time.

Douglas

My idea has sat in my head for a few weeks now, and I think I am going to stick with it. I feel the need to be aware of A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court, even though my protagonist will not be capable of introducing meaningful post Industrial Revolution technology to the setting because he's a druggie reprobate who just so happens to be a cyborg

Old Red Ink

I have an idea for a post-apocalyptic story that I'd kind of like to write sometime (this wouldn't work at novel length because the whole point of the plot is to set up a surprise ending, but I think it would be okay as a short story):

It's a few hundred years after the complete collapse of civilization, and society has reverted to the tribal level. For some reason (a virus?) humanity is dying out - life spans are getting shorter and fertility is decreasing. In the story, two tribes are fighting over an area of religious significance. Or maybe the area is under the control of one religious group and a group of rebels from a minority religion are trying to take over. The reason for this is that there is an ancient prophecy that those at this location at a certain time will receive a message from God, and the predicted time is quickly approaching. Throughout the story, descriptions of the location reveal that it is the ruins of an ancient research facility. At the end, both sides are engaged in a climactic battle when the voice of God speaks from a machine at the heart of the facility: it's a message from a colonization ship, launched just before the fall of civilization, that has reached its destination intact with a full complement of colonists. Humanity lives on, hurray!

I guess I'd have to come up with some explanation for how the thing has survived for hundreds of years without breaking down. Maybe the group that controls the area is some sort of machine cult with just enough knowledge to keep things operational?

I have a sneaking suspicion that I may be reusing an idea from some old story I read years ago, but I have never been able to find such a story.

Quoth

Machine cult works, and hey, maybe it's got defenses of its own and it was built to last

Certainly there are things in museums these days that are much older

Enc

In seriousness, I always overplan in October and my November plot usually dies because Ive already thought it out and it no longer interested me about halfway through. Also, halfway through ends up being about 50k, which isn't great for having a finished product after NaNo.

This year I have a minimalist setup: a man waking up in a stranger's bedroom where he has been locked inside. I'm just gonna let it sit there until the 1st and roll with it and see how it goes this time.

Douglas

I don't know, maybe I will start soon. I'm going to be away from a computer for most of the first week of November, and then I will be near a ps3... so...

TrueHereticX

I tried out the Jim Butcher story question thingy. Think I got one I like.

"When an ancient prophecy concerning Dragons is discovered, the Drakeskin Belial sets out to prevent a catastrophe. But will he succeed when the progenitors of his species try to bring about the world's destruction?"

smof

Well finally the brain juices are moving - if not exactly flowing then at least oozing. Think I have a new, workable idea for my NaNo story. Very preliminary idea summary:

Two crews of salvers from different worlds cooperate on a high-risk, high-profit job in hostile territory, but it turns out bad when most are captured by barbarian slavers, leaving just two of them free to mount a rescue. The pair must try any methods they can - diplomacy, bribery and violence included - to free their friends. But it could be an impossible task when almost everybody views the lives of a few scavengers as worthless, and their own differences may threaten to shake their alliance apart.

Happy to finally have something worked out so I can spend the next 10 days concentrating on building my characters and plotting, instead of staring at a blank page/screen trying to force a story idea out of my brain, sobbing softly, wondering where my life went wrong.

YaYa

okay

today, tomorrow, wednesday

I will do my snowflake method

I will do it hard

Quoth

Good job guys, those both sound cool

Do some character work now, see what you come up with

Enc

smof wrote: »

Well finally the brain juices are moving - if not exactly flowing then at least oozing. Think I have a new, workable idea for my NaNo story. Very preliminary idea summary:

Two crews of salvers from different worlds cooperate on a high-risk, high-profit job in hostile territory, but it turns out bad when most are captured by barbarian slavers, leaving just two of them free to mount a rescue. The pair must try any methods they can - diplomacy, bribery and violence included - to free their friends. But it could be an impossible task when almost everybody views the lives of a few scavengers as worthless, and their own differences may threaten to shake their alliance apart.

Happy to finally have something worked out so I can spend the next 10 days concentrating on building my characters and plotting, instead of staring at a blank page/screen trying to force a story idea out of my brain, sobbing softly, wondering where my life went wrong.

This sounds like an awesome story, just wanted to say.