#planning nanowrimo

[mammameesh]

Day and night

Twyla, the prompt was snuggle....

Have 189 random words of my NaNoWriMo project?

During the day, Stevie is a briar of thorns. Twyla has accepted that, a long time ago. During the day, Stevie is a castle of thick walls, asleep for the past 100 years. At night, Stevie stares at her, and her typically dark eyes are filled with starlight. During the day, Stevie's voice is rough, and firm, and sharp. At night, Stevie sings Twyla's name, and it's never the same sound twice. During the day, Stevie smells like stale coffee and flannel. During the night, she smells of jasmine lotion, and coconut shampoo, and a deeper musk all her own. During the day, Stevie's aura prickles, in a constant state of bristling nerves. During the night, Stevie is soft in Twyla's arms. All the thorns pull away, all of her wall come crumbling down. Oh, and her taste? Twyla reveals in that taste. It's unexpected: not bitter like coffee, but somehow salty and sweet. Twyla chases that taste again and again. This is Stevie the Soft, the one who pulls Twyla in, and snuggles against her skin. Twyla gets to see this side of Stevie, and that is magic.

[nanowrimo]

Beyond the Word Count: A Book Editor's Guide to Writing a First Draft

Every year, we’re lucky to have great sponsors for our nonprofit events. First Draft Pro, a 2023 NaNoWriMo sponsor, is a beautifully designed writing app for fiction writers. Today, they've partnered with Kelly Norwood-Young, former book editor for Pan Macmillan and Penguin Random House, to bring you some pro tips on writing your first draft:

In my career as a book editor, I’ve reviewed hundreds of manuscripts. I've seen the joy of authors creating compelling tales, but also how disheartening it can be to rewrite a disjointed story. I’m here to give you some strategies to address common pitfalls so that you not only reach your NaNoWriMo goal, but also lay the groundwork for a manuscript that truly deserves to be called a gripping novel.

1. Have a plan.

Even if you’re more of a ‘pantser’ than a ‘planner’, it's really helpful to have an outline. I have two favourite approaches for this: the structure-first approach, and what I call the ‘Phoebe Waller-Bridge approach’.  

The structure-first approach

There are a lot of narrative frameworks for story structure, but the most foundational in Western fiction is the three-act structure. Here’s a handy guide that breaks each of the classical three acts into a day-by-day guide to NaNoWriMo: 

8-day guide to Act 1

14-day guide to Act 2

8-day guide to Act 3

The Phoebe Waller-Bridge approach

I love this quote from Phoebe Waller-Bridge: ‘I’ve never thought structure first. I’ve always thought material first, jokes first, character first ... But knowing the end really helps. Then you just go as far away from the end emotionally as you possibly can.’  

Sketch out your major story arcs, your character’s desires and conflicts, and the world they inhabit. The more you know your story's world and inhabitants, the less you'll stray into scenes that lack purpose or create plot and character inconsistencies. 

2. Keep the story moving.

Each word needs to propel your story forward. Superfluous details or tangents that don’t serve the narrative stall the momentum you’re trying to generate for your reader. 

There’s a trick you can use to move your story forward, called the question of reversibility. Ask yourself: How difficult would it be for my character to reverse their decision? The harder it would be for them to turn back, the more you’ve moved the plot forward. 

3. Plant clues carefully.

Plant important elements early and make sure every element, however subtle, serves a purpose (i.e. Chekhov’s Gun). 

Be sure to set up necessary components for your climax so that you can steer clear of Deus ex Machina (having that strong outline will help you here), and avoid red herrings unless they serve a clear, meaningful purpose (e.g. you’re writing a mystery and your readers expect some false leads). Misleading your readers without a payoff can erode their trust.

4. Write for the reader, not yourself.

‘There is only one thing you write for yourself, and that is a shopping list,’ insists Umberto Eco in On Literature. Even if writing, for you, is a therapeutic outlet, a form of self-expression, or a way to leave a legacy, you’re still writing to say something to someone else. Your story simply won’t be as strong if you forget your reader’s perspective. 

5. Keep daily editorial notes for your future self.

While editing should wait until at least December, end each day with a brief reflection, noting any off-course deviations, potential inconsistencies, areas to research further, or moments of inspiration to revisit when you start editing. 

These daily notes will be invaluable during the editing process, helping you to remember insights that are no longer fresh when you come back to the manuscript later.

6. Embrace the first-draft mentality.

There’s a lot you can do to ensure that your first draft is the best it can be before the end of November—but just as important is to understand that all first drafts have flaws.

As a book editor, I've witnessed manuscripts transform, sometimes unrecognizably, from their first drafts. Embrace the uncertainty and creative detours—because it's from this beautiful chaos that your story will find its true voice. 

Kelly Norwood-Young is a seasoned book editor and proofreader with comprehensive experience across various facets of manuscript editing. Her background includes roles at Pan Macmillan and Penguin Books, extending into a successful freelance career working with award-winning authors. Kelly's work, known for its precision and sensitivity to the author's voice, has been integral to the success of both new and established writers globally.

Try out First Draft Pro: All NaNoWriMo participants can use the discount code NANOWRIMO2023 for 20% off a premium subscription to First Draft Pro! Offer expires January 31, 2024.

[lavendershowcase]

Since NaNo has been a hot mess for a hot minute and can't seem to stop digging their own grave--

Why doesn't writblr all go hard sharing and reading each other's works in November? Post our own challenges for each other, tips, support, etc. Nothing formally organized or planned, just an agreed upon month of support and doing out best.

[nosebleedclub]

A bit early but—is anyone doing nanowrimo (National Novel Writing Month) this year (November 2023)?

[melon-wing]

Not-So-Secret Soulmates [Scar/Grian]

[[FANFICTION MASTERLIST]]

Grian stood at the small grave, looking at the name with a pained expression. His heart ached for the friend he had just lost, even when he knew it wouldn’t be forever. He hadn’t meant to kill Bigb. He had managed to convince himself they were secret soulmates so much that he had forgotten Bigb had still been connected to Ren after all. He probably wouldn’t have built that trap otherwise. Or maybe he would have done it, but he would have apologised to Bigb before they had perished. This way he had actually celebrated his secret soulmate’s death, indirectly, but still. He had cheered. 

Grian almost felt as if arms were embracing him and he wondered if that was really the case. He remembered being a ghost last time. He had still been able to stay in that world and while he had just watched, maybe soft touches were possible. Him and Scar had been able to hear the shouts of the dead in their first game after all. Sometimes the wall between the dead and the living got thinner as emotions ran high. 

“I’m so sorry, B. I didn’t mean to kill you. I wished things could have been different. I really… I really wanted to be with you”, he whispered into the cold night air.

“You wanted him to be your soulmate instead of me, didn’t you?”

Grian jumped, whipping around so quickly he almost fell, the feeling of the soft embrace immediately disappearing as a cold shiver ran down his back. How hadn’t he heard Scar walk up to him? It was so unlike him to not pay attention and Scar usually wasn’t one to hide his presence well enough. It took him a moment to overcome the shock to realise Scar was still waiting for an answer, his eyes looking deep into his and it was as if he was pulled into these brown pools filled with uncertainty and sadness.

“Yes. I wanted him to be my soulmate. He was the one I was disappointed about most when we discovered he wasn’t my soulmate.”

Scar let out a small laugh, but there was no joy in it, it sounded so hollow.

“I mean… I knew that. Why am I even surprised? I just never thought you’d admit it just like that. But yeah, it’s true. Nobody would have been happy having me as a partner. I’m irresponsible, I mess up stuff and I don’t think before jumping into action. I’m the worst at this and anyone would have been better. I’m a walking, talking catastrophe.”

Grian could see something breaking inside Scar as his voice reached a higher pitch as he spoke, cracking every now and again, his words making him spiral downwards even more. 

“Scar-”

“No. Don’t you dare deny it now. You know it’s true! I pretended I didn’t hear you scream when you found out. I pretended it was something else that made you this upset, but I knew. I knew we were soulmates before you did. I knew the moment I stepped foot into this weird world. Because how could it ever be anybody else other than you?”, Scar ranted on, a shaking hand pushing his hair from his forehead as he looked at Grian, his eyes a mixture of sadness and madness. He was losing it quickly and Grian was too overwhelmed to know what to say to him. “Scar, please…”

Scar just shook his head, eyes moving from Grian to the grave behind him. “I thought this time we could win together. Me and you until the end. This time we wouldn’t have to fight to death. I didn’t want to see you cry again like last time. It was so hard to keep pretending then and not just hug you. I promised myself to protect you.”

“Wait… pretend?”

The glint of madness seemed to disappear and Scar smiled softly, but still so sad as he recalled the memories of their first game. “Grian. I’m not that bad at fistfighting. I’m a clutz, but even I don’t stumble that often and fall face first into a cactus. I didn’t want to hurt you. I let you win. Had I known you’d cry over my dying body like that I would have just accidentally fallen into a ravine before we ever reached that damn ring of death.”

Grian only stared at him, thinking back to their encounter in the desert, not trying to linger too long on the memory of the screams and blood. Now that Scar had said it, it seemed so obvious. Not even Scar was that much of an idiot when something was important to him. Apparently winning had never been important to him.

“I- Thank you, I think?”

Scar just shook his head and Grian was pretty sure getting gratitude wasn’t the reason he had brought it up.

“It’s in the past now. We were a great team back then. Not so much anymore. What happened to us, G? I thought you enjoyed being with me, even if I can be an irresponsible buffoon sometimes. We hang out all the time on Hermitcraft. We have lots of fun together, don’t we? Why do you hate being my soulmate so much that you want to team up with someone else?”

Grian pressed his lips together, glancing everywhere but at Scar’s face. He hadn’t known his attitude would hurt Scar this much and he knew he owed his partner an explanation, but he had a hard time admitting it out loud, when he had only ever told Bigb about the way he felt.

“I didn’t want to be the one to kill you again”, Grian finally whispered, looking up from uncertain eyes at Scar who seemed slightly shocked at his confession. “If you weren’t my soulmate I could have tried to do the same thing I did last time: Stay as far away from you as possible and make sure we’re not on the same or on opposing teams. I know this is a game and I know we all respawn… But I didn’t know back then. The first time. I thought I had killed you. And I couldn’t… I couldn’t fight you again. A piece of me broke that day, Scar, and I have been unable to repair it.”

“What?” Scar just gasped out, looking at him as if he was processing those words for a moment and then a bit of the sadness disappeared and he seemed less lonely and broken as a hopeful glimmer appeared. “So you teaming up with Bigb…?”

“He was helping me, Scar. We spent so much time together because he’s one of my best friends and he knows me. And I tried to replace you with him and I’m sorry. I didn’t know it would hurt you this much. It’s not that I don’t like you… I like you too much.”

Scar seemed to stop, all thoughts coming to an abrupt halt as his wide eyes looked straight into Grian’s. And then suddenly his cheeks started to turn pink as his shocked expression morphed into a small shy smile. It was an expression that made Grian’s heart race faster again. It was funny how the smallest of changes on Scar’s face could make him react like this.

Scar finally stepped up, taking a hold of Grian’s hand. “You don’t have to do this. Keeping your distance. I promise I’ll make sure nothing happens to you. We don’t have to fight and even if we die”, Scar took the hand to his lips, kissing it softly, looking up from the hand at Grian, “We’ll be right back together. I will be there when you wake up on Hermitcraft. We’ll be together. This is not real, Grian. We aren’t dying.”

“I know…”, Grian whispered, looking at Scar, those bright green eyes looking at him from beneath long eyelashes. “I just. I’m scared. What if I make enemies and you die because of me? What if I stumble and fall? What if some mob gets to me?”

Scar just shrugged, smiling fully now as he lowered Grian’s hand once more. “Grian. Do I look like someone who thinks he could win this? I cost you two lives already. So if you stumble, I’ll just have to catch you and put you back on your feet again. And if we die, I’ll be happy knowing we did our best together as a team. And once this is over we can be together without worrying. Back home.”

Grian smiled back at Scar. He just couldn’t help it. Seeing that smile was always too infectious. There was still a deep worry inside him, but yet he felt calm as well. Yeah, he might die and hurt Scar. But Scar wouldn’t mind. Scar would still be there waiting for him once he woke up again. Scar lifted his free hand up, letting it rest softly on Grian’s cheek and Grian leaned into the warmth of that touch, closing his eyes for a moment, allowing his constantly racing mind to slow down for the first time since this game had started. When he opened his eyes, all he could see and think of was Scar. Scar with his soft locks and bright smile. And with those deep eyes that looked at him with so much affection. It was truly a miracle he hadn’t suspected before that his feelings weren't one sided. “Promise me, Scar… Promise you’ll stay by my side. Don’t sacrifice yourself for me this time.”

Scar smiled and nodded.

“You’re not alone. Not in this world and not in the next.”

And as they both leaned forward their lips touched to seal the promise and Grian could feel a spark running through his whole body and he just knew that even if they didn’t win, he had gotten everything he ever wanted in this miserable world. He had found something precious that would stay far longer than the time they’d spend here. He had finally found love.

[starry-stan-blog]

am writing chapter 6 of my scum villain fanfic and there is 3K of sqq unwittingly unleashing his wife beam on lbh

as soon as binghe gets back from the abyss it's over for sqq's ass

[duskyashe]

NaNoWriMo Day #17

[masterlist] [part one] [part three]

=============‹«⟨···•···⟩»›=============

While Danny was infinitely grateful for Clockwork and all the things he'd done for him over the past three years, he was really regretting giving the ancient ghost carte blanche when it came to his safety. The dimension travel was cool, he'd been able to see a crap ton of various superhero fights since getting dropped here, he'd even got a hoodie from Captain Marvel, but the de-aging thing? He was seventeen, not ten! How did being physically younger than he was chronologically protect him from anything? He'd learned to apply his mom's martial arts at fourteen, at ten he'd still only been learning the katas! Honestly, it was a good thing his being de-aged had only taken his muscle memory, and he still had his ghost half; without his powers, he would have been roadkill by now.

He'd just flown from the shining City of Metropolis all the way to a city Sam would have loved, if only for the aesthetic, when the sun touched the horizon. Looking around, Danny figured it'd be best not to be out on the streets after dark, and started looking for a place to crash for the night. There were a surprising number of empty and deserted apartments in the area of town he'd flown into, but most of them weren't the most defensible, so on he went, until he felt something... Different, something he hadn't felt in years. Not since Ellie had almost destabilized. This, though... This was different. This wasn't a young core crying out in terror, this was a strangled core crying out in pain and rage and confusion. And it wasn't a full ghost, either. It was another halfa. Danny was phasing into a highly fortified apartment before he even knew it.

Carefully picking his way through the apartment, Danny made his way to the back room where he knew the other halfa was. He could hear them gasping and hyperventilating, their core fighting its bonds yet gaining no headway. Rounding the doorway to the bedroom, Danny froze, his core aching at the sight of the state the older halfa was in. How the guy wasn't in the middle of a murderous rampage, he wasn't sure, but helping him would be significantly easier with Danny not having to protect a bunch of civilians at the same time, so he'd take it.

He settled his feet onto the ground, rolled the sleeves of his too large hoodie up slightly, and let out a couple small chirps. The effect was instantaneous, the older halfa's attention drawn completely to him. Seeing those glowing green eyes under a patch of white hair, focused with laser intensity on him, Danny shifted a bit as he relaxed. He'd managed to break his mental spiral, now all he had to do was interact with the guy and his core would do the rest of the work. Hesitantly, he shuffled forward and chirped a few more times, trying to encourage the guy to respond.

Danny had never been more relieved than he was when the guy chirped back, tears welling in his eyes as his shoulders relaxed. A sob worked its way out of the guy as he reached a hand out, as if grasping for a lifeline, and who was Danny to deny him that simple comfort? Ghosts were nearly as tactical as humans were, sometimes more so, in fact.

=============‹«⟨···•···⟩»›=============

Admittedly, falling asleep cuddled up in the older halfa's arms had not been his intention, but, well... Having someone freely give him comfort in return for receiving comfort had been something he'd missed terribly. He hadn't even gotten to say goodbye to his friends or his sister before Clockwork had sent him to this dimension. It had been... Way too long since he'd had a hug, especially one as warm and all encompassing as that one had been.

He didn't want to move from the safety of those strong arms holding him, didn't want to leave the comforting rumble of the older halfa's purr, but Danny desperately needed the restroom, and he still had some dignity left. Reluctantly, he tried to shift enough to slip out of the hug, only for those arms to tighten their hold on him ever so slightly. Tired blue eyes fluttered open, studying Danny's face for a moment before closing for a wide yawn.

"Where do you think you're going, kiddo?" The other halfa asked softly, his sleep-rough baritone voice weaving a layer of peace-calm-safety into the air around them.

"... I need the restroom..." Danny mumbled, fighting the urge to just stay right where he was. He hadn't felt this peaceful since the last time he'd visited Jazz at her college dorm.

The chest he was still half curled up to jiggled as the guy huffed an amused laugh. He was hugged a bit tighter for a moment before being released. "Just across the hall, kiddo. Do your business, then meet me in the kitchen for breakfast, alright? I have some questions I'd like to ask you, starting with what flavor of pancakes you like." Danny blinked but nodded. He was up and almost out the door when the guy spoke back up. "Oh, and kid? The name's Jason. Thanks for what you did for me last night."

Danny paused and turned to look back at Jason. The guy was already looking better now that his core wasn't being restrained by the sickly green gunk that had been strangling it. His blue eyes were almost glowing with life, and his skin held a warm peachy color that hadn't been there before he'd fallen asleep. Even his hair, black with a patch of white, seemed healthier. Danny smiled, small and content. "Danny, and you're welcome. You looked like you needed some TLC."

Jason raised an eyebrow. "Tender love and care?"

"Nah," Danny smirked. "Tons of love and cuddles."

=============‹«⟨···•···⟩»›=============

Tehehe (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠) I'm very happy with how this turned out! We finally got Danny's point of view! Now, admittedly, when I wrote the first part, I didn't have a concrete age for Danny, or really any backstory for him being in Gotham except for he was on the run due to a Reveal Gone Wrong™. I just really liked the idea of Danny getting de-aged and punted into another dimension for his own safety, and meeting Jason as a byproduct. They've adopted each other, now lol

Here's some fun people who asked to be tagged if I continued this! @treepainting, @fancydelusionluminary, @blacksea21090, @undead-essence, @fisticuffsatapplebees, here's part two!

Have a good morning/day/night!

[maxkirin]

How to Outline a Novel for Length (AKA Outlining a Novel for NaNoWriMo) in 4 Easy Steps ✍️💖

[duhragonball]

Yeah, so apparently NaNoWriMo issued a statement about their stance on AI, and it really, really sucks.

I know there was some controversy last year, but that was about bad actors on their forums, which I never bothered with, so I was kind of hoping they at least made some effort to clean up that mess. This bothers me more, because it's the Nano organization itself using the same bullshit talking points as some dipshit cryptocurrency dork on Twitter.

My stance on AI is pretty simple: Fuck AI. If NaNoWriMo can't figure out how to string those six letters together in the right order, then maybe I need to rethink my use of their site. I'll keep you posted.

[sincerely-sofie]

Wouldn't it be cool if mermaids had mobile gardens planted on the backs of decorator crabs, and they'd just have these little critters wander around their homes and brighten up the scenery as they went? No? Just me thinking that 24/7? Okay.

Psst--- f you want a print, sticker, magnet, or similar product of this drawing, you can get it at the redbubble link below! There's 20% off on most products this design is available for AND free shipping on all stickers if you're interested!

[mammameesh]

Lanterns

For awhile now, I've been considering naming my NaNoWriMo project some variation of "I went out with lanterns, looking for myself. - Emily Dickenson" Sorry, Emily.

This quote is actually about moving. Grief has moved me. It has been part of my life for the last 8 plus years. After my sister passed , for a very long time, I lost my spark for writing. I've been trying NaNoWriMo since someone told me I could not finish NaNoWriMo (like 20 ish years ago) because I'm Neurodivergent (diagnosed with dyslexia and Attention Deficient Disorder as a child, probably actually autistic). Typically I write like 4k words. As of this post, 50925. Have 319 words of "Lanterns" or some other clever title? It's not done, it's defiantly a bisexual dumpster fire, but I feel like that's how it should be.

Stevie lit the lantern, and stepped inside, a cane at her other side. "Welcome to your childhood home." Stevie squeezed her pendant around her neck. "Jake milled the floors from a tree in our yard. Isn't that something?" She reached down, and touched the wood. "David and I hand washed the tile on the fireplace. Never again." Stevie walked over to fireplace. "It still has the old mantle, the one you hung my stocking from." Stevie walked through the parlor. "Twyla painted this room green. Green is her favorite color." She opened the French Doors to the living room, and was greeted with cold air. "I guess if I was 100 years old, I would be cold all the time too. After all, it is almost December." Stevie looked up, and moved the lantern as high as she could. "David fused over these coffered ceilings for so long. Don't they look great?" Stevie's leg cramped, and she stood on it for a moment. "I feel old now, too." She laughed. Stevie took a deep breath, and walked to what used to be her nana's room. "This is my room now, isn't that weird? This was the hardest room to do." Stevie sniffled. "Soon, the house will be full of people. I'm having a Holiday party. I might even put up a tree." Stevie limped out to the South wing. "You will never guess what's going out here." Stevie laughed and walked outside. "It will be a family home again. For a family that chose me. I didn't think I would ever get that." Stevie put the lantern down on the frost yard. "No matter what happened, you kept this place. You kept this legacy. It still stands, with me. For whatever its worth, we're still here. We survived." Stevie took the cremation pendant from around her neck, and poured the ashes on the candle, and the lantern went out.

[chainsawseesaw]

Guys I wanna finish writing lady and the vamp so bad but the autism says I need to meet my writing goal for this month first before I can

[captainsparklefingers]

Yes, it's technically Thursday, I'm always a bit behind the wheel. I got tagged by @grayintogreen, and I figured...well, what the hell. Maybe sharing a little bit of Unhappy Families will help with the writing motivation; I'm stuck in 1945 and absolutely dreading writing 1947, which is probably part of the problem. Turns out, trying to figure out how to write a downward spiral bender ending in a drug overdose? Not exactly fun!

But anyway. I don't really know who to tag but if you're working on something and want to share with the class, consider this a poke in the ribs?

And without further adieu, here's a little bit from Unhappy Families (or: one went up, two went down), specifically from 1929:

Pops dropped them off along the banks of the Hudson after what felt like the longest, quietest, most awkward car ride of Jonathan’s life. Tony’d sat uncomfortably close to him the entire time, his hands balled into two white-knuckled fists. Pops was silent the entire time, only speaking when the car stopped and he popped the trunk open to hand them two shovels.

“You two, get diggin’. I’m going to grab a few things and pick up our guest, and I’ll be back in thirty. I expect to see a decent size hole when I get back, understood?”

He and Tony’d quickly mumbled out a ‘yessir’ that seemed to satisfy Pops, who gave them a short nod, got back in the car, and drove off. Without looking at Tony, Jonathan started to dig. It was almost second nature to him at this point; he’d been digging graves for his father since he was fourteen, it was easy at this point to just turn his brain off and work through the task methodically. In, up, out, in, up, out.

He let himself get lost in the task and didn’t notice right away that Tony wasn’t digging until he caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of his eye, gripping the shovel and staring at it like he couldn’t understand what it was.

“Tony…ya gotta dig. You can’t leave me doin’ all the work myself here.”

Tony just kept staring at the shovel.

“Fer Chrissake…Tony, Pops’ll know you didn’t dig when he gets back. You gotta at least try, kid.”

Fuck, was he shaking? He’d been doing so well, too, kept it together in the car the whole time, why did he have to slip up now? Christ. With a groan, Jonathan shoved his shovel into the dirt and walked over to his little brother. “Tony. Look. I know what you’re thinking. And…you can’t think, with this sort of stuff. You think it was easy for me when Pops took me out to do this for my first time?”

He still thought of it sometimes, that night when he was fourteen, when Pops took him along to take out a few rival soldiers mooching in their territory. The way they’d begged and pleaded, their terrified eyes…how quick his father was with his gun, not even blinking as he shot man after man in the head. The way the blood spray looked on the wall behind them. The smell of blood and bodily fluids and gunpowder.

How heavy the shovel had been. How heavy the bodies were.

“You just…you get used to it. You learn to turn your brain off and go somewhere else. Don’t…don’t think of it as diggin’ a grave, Tony. Yer in Mamma’s garden, helping her plant the tulip bulbs in the spring. Just…we do what Pappa wants,” he said quietly, staring into the hole he’d been digging. “I’ve told ya before. Keep acting the way he wants you to, and when it gets tough just…hide in your head for a bit, let instincts take over. Eventually, it gets easier.”

“Is that what you do?”

“...yeah. Yeah it is.”

Tony sniffled and looked at the hole, the shovel, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. When he opened them again, he had this look of grim, strangely cocky determination on his face, and he shot Jonathan a toothy grin.

“Bet I can dig faster than you.”

“Like hell you can, you little shit!”

For a few minutes, the two of them were able to forget why they were engaged in a digging contest; they were just two brothers trying to get one over on the other. And…it was nice.

And then the car came back.

[nanowrimo]

Four Steps to Plontsing

Plotting? Pantsing? Why not both! Billy Ovid Boyles, a longtime NaNoWriMo participant is a proud Plontser and has tips on how you can utilize plontsing for your novel! Well, it’s that time of year. My desk is covered with articles about plotting versus pantsing. I’ve had my own experience with the two approaches and confess that these days, I’m a hybrid. I’m a Plontser. I both plot and pants. Sounds absurd? It’s not. In fact, it seems to me the most straightforward way to proceed with a novel. There are four things I keep in mind when I’m prepping for NaNo.

1. Initial Plotting

Whenever Plotober (October) rolls around I start plotting. Usually, I’ll storyboard the story I imagine writing. I have a whiteboard that I divide up into squares, each square representing a specific scene/chapter in the book. I usually come up with an initial title for each chapter and record a couple words on the whiteboard what I imagine the chapter is about. One important thing about the advantage of plotting is you have a beginning and you have an end. It’s very nice to have those two things resolved before you start NaNo. I’ve had spells of agonizing over beginnings and endings, and it’s no fun if you’re under the thirty-day gun.

2. Create a Detailed Outline

So, the second step is to compose a detailed outline based on the storyboard. There are lots of tools you can use for this, fairly sophisticated stuff from Scrivener to Aeon Timeline. I just use a word document and styles to organize my outline.

An outline can help to reveal any plot holes or timing issue. Use whatever tool you want to catch that draft outline, but make sure the work follows a logical progression with no gaping holes in the storyline.

3. Develop Characters

In the third step, characters are important, and Plotober is a great time to develop characters. The same tools that help you build your storyline can help you build character profiles, with an organized way to approach the creation of the keys to your story. I personally like to take my characters out and about. I ride a bike and it’s easy for me to imagine my characters if they were faced with a bike ride. What kind of physical condition is the person in? How do they react to the flow of traffic around them? Is there any joy in the riding itself?  Yeah, yeah, I get creative in Plotober. It’s important to have as close a relationship as possible with your characters and it doesn’t hurt to put them in situations where they have to “come to life”.

And that’s the final key to this. I have developed several detailed outlines for my November efforts over the years … and almost every one of them has been hijacked by some twist I think up when fleshing out the storyline, taking the whole story in a different direction.

That’s a reward.

4. Let the Outline Roam Wild

Step four is allowing your outline to get jacked by a better direction. That is one of the true joys of writing: when the novel “comes alive.” When my story starts writing itself, that’s like … getting to the heart of a freshly steamed artichoke!  Or Uncle Biff’s Killer California cookies. It’s what you really want to happen. When the characters start talkin to each other. When the story turns on the strength of the characters. And, if your twist doesn’t turn out, you’ve always got the outline to fall back on. Remember, every word during NaNo counts—even if they’re in the wrong direction for a bit. That’s your four steps to Plontsing. Best wishes!

Billy Ovid Boyles is a 65-year-old, retired computer geek now dedicated to writing crazy fiction.  He’s been participating in NaNo since 2011 and has met the 50,000-word challenge four times.  All four of those ‘wins’ eventually wound up being published through Kindle Direct Publishing. You can visit his Facebook page or his website. Image by Pexels from Pixabay

[arionawrites]

(some of these are wips i’ve started but am planning to start from scratch due to not working on them and needing a new approach in order to actually make them work, so if any of these sound familar, that’s probably why)

[nordic-language-love]

Sorry for banging on about NaNo instead of posting language stuff but I'm actually enjoying writing again for the first time in years and I could honestly cry of happiness!