A Life of Fiction CLXV

For those of you new to this WordPress site, this site is about me and my writing – and a little about my role-playing, as well. It gives readers a chance to sample my work; and gives me the chance to say a little about the genesis of each novel, or about the process of writing in general.

Various Events In This Poet’s Life: Despite my best attempts to live a life in which absolutely nothing happens to me I am constantly stymied, in that events insist on occurring. Perhaps I accumulated a lot of bad karma in some previous existence. Maybe I was the Portuguese sailor who killed the very last dodo.

I must admit, in the interest of honesty, that the occurrence of some of these events might be considered to be my fault. So, perhaps, I have been asking for it.

Anyway, to explain: one of these events is not so much a happening, as thinking about what I am going to write for the next NaNoWriMo. For those confused by that word – and the confused includes my spell-checker – NaNoWriMo is the National Novel Writing Month. It takes place in November every year. The idea is to write a fifty thousand piece of work (it can be something other than a novel) within the calendar month of November. I have completed it twice. The first novel was Empire of Steam, which you can read for free elsewhere on this website. The other was Steam Park, which I keep intending to stick on the Kindle store, if I have not already done so by now.

I write these words in July 2016. But it is not that long to November. Novels, in my opinion, need a lot of thought.

When the first of November comes around, heralded by cold weather and thoughts of fireworks, I want to be able to hit the ground running, as they say (although I have never been entirely sure just who those people are). I will not cheat by starting before the first of November. But I intend to have a mental plan of what the novel will be, including how it is going to end. Knowing how something is going to end is important if you want to complete a project in only thirty days. At three thousand words a day, though, I hope to complete this prospective novel some days before the end of November.

Already I have some idea of what the novel is going to be about. I have a working title. But I am not going to say too much here just in case I decide to publish it (on that joke called the Kindle website), as I do not want to spoil the surprise.

What else? Oh, I went along to a spoken word night in the town where I live. It was at a location called the Scary Canary. I spent half the evening listening to the other poets. They were good, and some of their poems were intense. But, late on in the evening, in the second half of the open mic night, I had drunk enough beer that I felt confident about performing. I read out three of my poems, inflicting my bad verse in unsuspecting members of the public. They were surprisingly well received. I suspect that either somebody was putting drugs in the water (or beer), or that the place was attended by escapees from a lunatic asylum.

One person, afterwards, even came up to me and told me that he had really liked the poem “Waiting For Shelley.” That is Exhibit #1, m’lud.

Will I go again? Yes, I think so, because, obviously, the good burghers of Stourbridge have not suffered enough.

Is there anything else? Nothing important comes to mind. So I guess that this is the end of this post.

Everybody out there, please take care. Expect another post in a week and a half.

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