Okay, things on the Nanowrimo front aren’t going quite as I planned. In terms of word count, I’m ahead of schedule. I’ve written 8,442 words in the first two days. And since Nanowrimo is all about quantity rather than quality, I’m happy with that.
But the thing is, I had an outline. And my book is totally ignoring my outline. It was supposed to start with Rosemary getting dumped by her boyfriend and subsequently meeting a man with Narcissistic Personality Disorder on one of the online dating sites. But what happened? Right there on page one, while I watched in horror, her boyfriend went and hanged himself in the bedroom closet. Nobody was more surprised than me.
Here’s the excerpt – you can see for yourself how it snuck up on me:
But being left is different. You have no control. No illusions. No omniscient glimpse into the real reasons for the breakup. You’re completely dependent on the other person to tell you, and you’re familiar with all the old lies and the reasons for telling them.
They don’t want to hurt you. Nevertheless, you’re left bereft and confused and hurt. You might know what the lies are, but you still don’t know what the truth is. You don’t know why he really left.
And he’s not talking. He’s still hanging in the bedroom closet, his face bulging and purple, the front of his pants stained wet, his skin swollen from accumulated fluids, a neatly typewritten and hand-signed note folded on the bedside table.
Now Rosemary’s got all this extra emotional shit to process before she can even begin to think of writing an online dating profile. She’s spent the past 8,442 words organizing and getting through a funeral, obsessively cleaning the closet, exchanging barbs with his mother, reading and re-reading the suicide note, and wondering why he really did it. On top of everything else, he informed her in the note that he’s got a 14-year old daughter out there somewhere, and he’d like her to track the kid down and give her something from him. This was not in the outline, and it’s a fairly onerous responsibility for someone who was just supposed to be eating potato chips, reading online profiles and composing flirty emails.
Because you have to churn out 50,000 words in a month, there’s no time to go back and change your mind. You have to keep going. Somehow I have to find a way for Rosemary to finish grieving, track down the kid, AND start online dating. (GC suggested I just say “A few months later….” and take it from there.)
GC’s joking. Right?
I don’t even have an outline for mine–I decided on a whim to do it this year, on Nov. 1, so it’s a bit…by the seat of my pants. Good times though! Your book certainly sounds like it’ll be fun
I don’t think this is the book you think it is anymore. You’ve been hijacked by your subconscious… enjoy the ride.
Wow. It really does have a mind of its own. Apparently, it’s not going to be the book you though it was.
Well, holy smokes, you’re going to win! If it’s even a contest? Just keep it up — 50 000 words isn’t really all that much. You’d be surprised! It goes by very quickly once you’ve got all the plot stitched together.
This is way more interesting than nibbling on chips and watching for “You’ve got mail” signs.
Yeah, my characters are Doing Things also, and getting me waaay ahead in wordcount, too! Suddenly, the Romantic Hero is actually quite the loser/jerk, the Romantic Heroine’s Sidekick is actually pretty kick-ass herself (and in trouble with the FBI), and there’s this whole criminal-underworld/political thriller thing happening.
NOT the lighthearted romantic comedy about a cute vulcanologist finding *actual* love with her geologist ex-boyfriend that I thought I had on tap.
WFT?
…suddenly, there was an earthquake! Then a hurricane! Then a tsunami! Then a tornado and a volcano! Then a UFO invasion! Where was it all leading…?
maybe the online dating plot should be in the sequel next year.
I really like your heroine’s name.
Tom, it’s Nanowrimo! Anything goes – especially anything expedient.
Aproustian, welcome – that’s GC’s approach too – ‘no plot, no problem.’ Is it falling into place for you?
Susan, I ended up jumping ahead instead of trying to segue gracefully back to my outline. There’s a big hole in my book now. I’ll fill it in later. The two books will have to learn to coexist gracefully – either that, or duke it out.
Colette, there’s a Colette in my book! She brought a casserole.
Max, it’s a contest with yourself. You just have to get to 50,000 words to win.
Oma, the heart of the story was going to be in the way their personality disorders collided. You never know…it still might be. She’s spending a lot of time eating potato chips in the aftermath of the suicide, too.
Crafty, have you done Nanowrimo before? Is it normal for characters to hijack your plot like that?
Coyote, ha! As long as I don’t suddenly wake up and discover that phew, it was only a dream.
Bonnie, OMG, I can’t imagine that this book would want a sequel. Or that I would let it have one.
I’m giggling.
That’s fascinating. I’ve always wanted to try writing a book but never knew if it should be a totally planned out thing, or a seat-of-the-pants thing. Sounds like your novel is turning into a seat-of-the-pants thing…and that’s good! It inspires me to just get *something* on the page and see what happens.
That’s AWESOME. (Did I remember to mention the great Ravelry group over in the Pens and Needles forum? Not that you need anyplace else to waste time, just sayin’…)
Boy, some guys (even fictional ones) will do ANYTHING to get out of having to “talk about our relationship.”
Fun stuff!
The no plot approach does seem to be working well short term, not sure how I’ll sustain it. Although a bigger problem is that I also have to finish knitting a sweater before Christmas and I haven’t figured out yet how to knit and type at the same time.
I’m picturing him staying in the closet the entire novel (or most of it); slowly decaying while she’s out dating internet men. She’s using him as a reason not to bring anyone home til she meets the “right” one. Kinda like a sink full of dishes and a bed that needs the sheets changed…only more morbid.