Complex Numbers

Fifty Five Thousand Six Hundred

I don't know why I didn't figure this out before, but I just realized that if I'm successful in completing this month's "Invalid Item"  (Level 3), I will have written 55,600 words related to that activity by the end of the month. That's more than a standard NaNoWriMo attempt.

Of course, it is by no means certain that I will be successful. Yes, I know that's self-defeating. I'm just like that these days: I go through the motions, but I don't really expect to succeed. This may be because when I expect to succeed, and don't, I become angry or depressed. On the other hand, when I expect to fail, and I succeed, it feels okay.

That many words mean little by themselves. But I'm trying to keep a kind of narrative theme going. Is it a novel? No, probably not. There's not much conflict, no villains (yet), and it's more of a framing story for other stories I'm writing - the writing of which I really need to get back to, but the framing story is captivating. To me, that is; maybe not to readers.

Which leads me back to wondering why I bother. Am I getting anything out of it? Sure, the knowledge that I can write that many semi-coherent words. And actually, I'm figuring some stuff out about description, characterization, and dialogue - even if they're negative examples. Maybe a few GPs.

Why am I saying all this? I'm not really looking for encouragement or further discouragement or advice, though I'd accept them. Some people have been encouraging me to try to get stuff published. I'm not sure why I'm still resistant to this idea; maybe because writing, to me, is easier than all the stuff I'd have to go through to send in manuscripts, make contacts, and so on; and more rewarding than collecting rejection slips. I appreciate the votes of confidence, but I guess I'm just not ready to stop being lazy and cynical.

I guess I need to settle on a direction and go in it. I have at least two science fiction stories, one urban fantasy story, and one horror story in this weird thing I call a head, just wating for me to get my shit together, outline them, and start writing. Actually, some of them, I've already started writing. All of them are at least novella-length.

I do know one thing. If I am successful in writing 55,600 words at the end of the month, I'm going to have a few good, stiff drinks. There's a commitment I know I can keep.

This boring, introspective journal entry has been brought to you by Not Enough Caffeine. We now return you to your regularly scheduled fluff.