I did it! Book number two has been put to sleep and out of its misery. To celebrate, I am posting a picture that oddly is the Google image result for "Joshua Jackson drunk". Someone at Google is fucking with me.
I found myself with 1,500 words to go and too much story still to cover. So it is very rushed at the end. But it is done and, right now, that is all that matters.
I just read Chris Baty's little letter to NaNoWriMoers and teared up (again). Here is a little excerpt from that letter for all of us who have finished already, and those of you who are almost there:
"It is my pleasure to inform you that you have officially kicked ass this month. No matter how many words you have written, you have done an amazing thing. Through distractions and demands and family obligations, you forged ahead. Your willingness to go out on a creative limb, to stand up and reach for an impossible goal, is an inspiring example to all of us ... Most of you - like me - probably do not write fiction. Fiction is something other people write. But this month, you dared to say, "Screw that. It's my turn." You stepped up to the plate. And there is nothing more admirable in this whole damn world than someone willing to set for themselves the fearsome task of trying something big."
So congratulations to all of us. Can't wait to read your novels. And here is a little excerpt and good bye from a character who has been kicking my ass all month. Here Edie is ruminating, fittingly enough, on "last words":
My eyes flickered open, just a crack, enough to know that I was still alive and where I was, more or less. At least I knew that I wouldn’t have to die without getting a chance to see the inside of a segregation cell again. Truth be told, I would have been okay with that. The walls of the small room slowly came into focus. Despite the blinding headache, I found the strength to quote in my mind Oscar Wilde’s famous last words: “Either that wallpaper goes, or I do.” There isn’t actually wallpaper in a segregation cell, although that would have been one way to add to the punishment it inflicts. Perhaps this would be more appropriate: “Either that filthy, seatless toilet goes, or I do.” Or perhaps, “Either that cockroach goes, or I do.” It occurred to me that I must have a concussion, and that there was something ominous about planning my last words. So I stopped.
I found myself with 1,500 words to go and too much story still to cover. So it is very rushed at the end. But it is done and, right now, that is all that matters.
I just read Chris Baty's little letter to NaNoWriMoers and teared up (again). Here is a little excerpt from that letter for all of us who have finished already, and those of you who are almost there:
"It is my pleasure to inform you that you have officially kicked ass this month. No matter how many words you have written, you have done an amazing thing. Through distractions and demands and family obligations, you forged ahead. Your willingness to go out on a creative limb, to stand up and reach for an impossible goal, is an inspiring example to all of us ... Most of you - like me - probably do not write fiction. Fiction is something other people write. But this month, you dared to say, "Screw that. It's my turn." You stepped up to the plate. And there is nothing more admirable in this whole damn world than someone willing to set for themselves the fearsome task of trying something big."
So congratulations to all of us. Can't wait to read your novels. And here is a little excerpt and good bye from a character who has been kicking my ass all month. Here Edie is ruminating, fittingly enough, on "last words":
My eyes flickered open, just a crack, enough to know that I was still alive and where I was, more or less. At least I knew that I wouldn’t have to die without getting a chance to see the inside of a segregation cell again. Truth be told, I would have been okay with that. The walls of the small room slowly came into focus. Despite the blinding headache, I found the strength to quote in my mind Oscar Wilde’s famous last words: “Either that wallpaper goes, or I do.” There isn’t actually wallpaper in a segregation cell, although that would have been one way to add to the punishment it inflicts. Perhaps this would be more appropriate: “Either that filthy, seatless toilet goes, or I do.” Or perhaps, “Either that cockroach goes, or I do.” It occurred to me that I must have a concussion, and that there was something ominous about planning my last words. So I stopped.
I am about to turn into one of those annoying people who anthropomorphizes their pets well beyond the point of reason. Pixie loved that ending. She went so far as to misbehave and jump up onto my desk for that one.
ReplyDeleteSo brilliant. I have loved Edie this summer, she is a great character. Thanks for letting me borrow her. Well, steal her.
I should go read the letter Chris Baty wrote in its entirety. My champagne remains unopen. I was alone at midnight, and though I take no issue with drinking alone, (fuck you AA), I wanted someone to celebrate with. Is 8:36 in the morning to early to drink champagne? I'll let you decide.
On another note- either someone at Google is fucking with you, or Joshua Jackson is the most controlled drunk I have ever seen. Kiefer Sutherland, you should be taking notes.
ReplyDeleteSpoiler alert - the above excerpt is not the ending. Now I realize it should have been. Maybe I will re-write the whole thing some day. And FYI, champage at 8:36 in the morning is never too early when it's EsNoWriMo, as long as your children are wearing life jackets.
ReplyDeleteI love Joshua Jackson drunk. What an amazing man.
ReplyDeleteCongratulations on completing your sophomore effort! How do you feel that it compares with the first?
You did it! I know it was a tough month for you - some combination of your novel and your work life (which is code for, your boss) but you persevered. Well done!
ReplyDeleteI also really love Edie. I wish she were my friend. Can't wait to read the whole thing.