Grab a chair and a couple of root beers...

I'm going to do NaNoWriMo again this year, and maybe this time, I will actually finish!

*glares at any pneumonia bugs that are even considering landing on Auntie*

I have only the vaguest idea what I'm going to work on this time. We shall see what we shall see, eh? It's funny, because I'm still working in the novel I started for last year's NNWM! Though part of my problem with that one is I know the world it is in so well that I'm having a hard time actually getting it out and written.

Oh well, I still have a little over a week to think about it.

*gets busy pondering various non-HP bunnies*

Okay, after all this time, I finally managed to get some writing done on "Extraordinary Girl."

A whole three pages worth.

But... it's a really good three pages!!! Honest!!

So, for those who are interested, I posted it here. Give it a read, and tell me what you think. Maybe.

*hides*

Yes, I know I missed last weekend, but there were extenuating circumstances, I promise!  So I am sitting here, struggling against that blank screen to do my 1000 words for let_us_suffer, and oh, did you guys EVER get the name of this group RIGHT!  Because it IS suffering!

I mean, sometimes, the words just flow.  You can see your characters so clearly, and hear their voices, and it's like your own personal movie in your head, and all you have to do is write it all down!!  And it just WORKS!  

And other times, it's just so damn hard!  And you have to get up and walk away from it, and do something else, because it's just so painful.  You know where you want it to go, but you can't figure out for the life of you how to get there in a way that seems natural and real.  Or at least moderately believable.  And everything you've written just feels FORCED, like you were just so desperate to put words on paper that you just threw something there and hoped it would stick.  And it makes no sense at all, you know it's crap, and yet all you can do is stare helplessly at it, completely unable to delete (though you know really that you should) because, dammit, you wrote it and you can't let go of it.  It's a very deformed baby, but its YOUR baby and you love it, regardless.

And then there's the times when it seems to practically write itself, like your hands are possessed, and the characters just won't do what you want them to do.  I mean, you got your outline, and your basic idea of how the story should go, and the damned characters just decided to up and get independent and do whatever the hell they want!  "We don't need no stinkin' outline!" they shout at you, making rude gestures and going off to do something completely different from what you intended.  

"But that changes the story entirely!" you wail.  "You can't do that!!"  And you try to change it back, but it just won't work, and so you're stuck with characters that have taken over the story, and what's worse, they start HAUNTING you, not leaving you alone until you finish, until you've written the story out to the very end.  It's like, you love it, and you hate it, all at the same time.  It's worse than having an imaginary friend, because at least you can make imaginary friends go away after a while.  Characters in a story won't go away, no matter what you do, until you finish.  And if you get stuck, or blocked, oh woe!!

Sometimes, I feel sorry for my family, having to live with me.  Living with a writer isn't for the faint of heart.  You could ask the Husbandly One that, and he'd probably look at you thoughtfully and say, "It isn't easy, but it's always interesting."

Being a writer can make you damned unsociable at times.  When you're hot, when you're on, and it's just ticking along nicely, your fingers are flying over the keyboard, you can't believe how well it's going, and then... somebody interrupts you.  Somebody wants you to hold up the end of a table, or see if a picture is straight, or to make them a peanut butter and jelly sandwich... it's hard not to snarl.  Very hard.  They can't help it, but oh, to have your train of thought derailed is physically painful!  It's like being punched in the stomach, sometimes.  Being jarred out of a wonderful dream is a woefully inadequate comparison, but probably as close as I can come to describing it.  Or maybe it's like having the best sex of your life, you're right at the peak of orgasm, you know it's going to blow the top of your skull off, you're almost RIGHT THERE... and someone taps you on the shoulder and asks you to move your car.

Yeah.

Exactly like that.

When I'm in what the Husbandly One calls a "writing frenzy" he tries to make sure the kids are busy with other things.  And stay away from me.  He checks on me, makes sure I'm well-hydrated, pokes food in at me at intervals and insists I eat, takes the computer away from me and forces me to get some sleep, all of this with me snarling at him like a wounded grizzly bear.   Yes, there is a REASON I say I'm a bear when I'm in a bad mood.  

When I'm over the frenzy, he gets me away from teh computer, so I'm not tempted to tinker with it, makes me go outside, or takes me away from the house entirely, making me socialize with him and the kids to reconnect, and remember that I'm a human being with a life.  A real life.

No, being married to a writer is definitely not for the faint of heart.  Nor for those who lack patience.  Or are embarrassed by odd questions coming from seemingly nowhere.  Because while research is fine, sometimes the best way to find outsomething is to just ask questions.  Which I do a lot of, from just about anyone I find.  A few of you on my f-list have found yourselves on the receiving end of my questions, and I bless each and every one of you that have so patiently answered them!  You lot are gold, I am telling you, truly!!!

Anyway, I must return to the salt mines.  Only about 400 words left on my 1000 word goal tonight.  I would dearly love a little distraction, but with 30 minutes to go, perhaps I should just buckle down and hope the frenzy hits soon.

...*sigh*

I know y'all are asking, "But Auntie, if writing is so difficult, then why on earth do you do it?"

It's simple.

Because I have to.  Because it's what I do.  Because the alternative, not writing, doesn't even bear thinking about.

Just because.