NanoWriMo – Update

We are just over halfway through November and I’m still hacking away at my NanoWriMo novel. It has been a lot more difficult than I expected, for the simple fact that I’m not really invested in what I’m doing. As such, it has been slow and steady progress where I have not been able to get ahead.

I really have no idea what I’m creating at this stage. I’m 30k+ words into it and feel like I haven’t even scratched the surface of the story I want to tell. I’m also not 100% sure exactly what that story is at this stage. I’m pretty much just writing to a loose plan and hoping that it ends up somewhere interesting.

It is an interesting process and I am getting more into it as I go alone, but it is also quite terrifying. One thing is for sure, it will not be a 50k and done type of work. I’m thinking it may be 150k+ words before I’m done and dusted this time around which is a very different place to be.

For now, I’ve got another 1666 words to write tomorrow and I’m just hanging in there. Good luck to all those still hacking away, the end is drawing closer and we’ll all get there together.

Down Again – Short Story Writing Challenge

A short, short story this week focusing on the theme of “desperation” with a secondary challenge to keep the entire story in one setting. I think I’ve got those two themes pretty well down this time.

This story is more along my usual style, which is to say pretty light hearted despite the absurdity of the situation. I can’t help but enjoy writing something like this and the word limit of 1000 is probably ideal for keeping me from running away with it too much.

Please enjoy: (PDF Version)

Down Again
By Toddhunter

   His eyes blinked open to be greeted by complete darkness. At least from where he lay he thought it was dark, he repeated the eye opening process several times to make certain.
The result stayed the same which wasn’t promising. It seemed everything was just black around him. Realisation hit home like a tonne of bricks being thrown from the top of a skyscraper already falling on top of him.
   “Oh fuck me,” he shouted out to nobody in particular, but the sound didn’t get more than a few inches away from his mouth. This presented a problem that was going to be an all-consuming issue for the next short period of his life.
   It seemed like it was going to be another one of those days.
   There was no doubt he was trapped in a space that just gave his arms and legs little room to move. Encasing him was the distinct feel of stressed wooden boards threatening to splinter into his. A fine sprinkle of what must be dirt trickled down onto his forehead, making him itch like crazy.
This would be a standard recipe for extreme panic or a sudden mental breakdown. Not for him though, having been through this experience. In fact it was last week, a terrifying ordeal spent inside a wooden box buried somewhere deep within the Earth’s loving embrace.
   It had been a painful experience. Literally, his fingers still hadn’t healed from the desperate scratching at the lid of the improvised coffin. That action didn’t help him during that experience and he knew it wouldn’t help now. As if in response to the thought, his fingers ached in agreement at the fresh memory of exposing his insides to the blood slicked boards.
   Instead he tried to stay calm as he mastered his breathing. A difficult task given the remaining number of breaths was demoralising low but he somehow managed. Experience was going to be the key to survival here, there had to be a way to emerge alive. If anything, he looked forward to the pure euphoria of the moment of escape. To be still alive was something that made you feel … well alive, which made perfect sense.
   But he wasn’t to that sweet point yet and the clock was always ticking.
   Since the events of last week he always made sure to keep a mobile phone with him. He also made sure he never let the battery charge fall below eighty percent. Given the short amount of time since making that resolution, it hadn’t been hard to stick to the diligence.
   A hint of panic formed at the nape of his neck as he considered the possibility that the assailants had taken it away. He pushed it down as best as he could, because it wasn’t going to help him get the needed steps done.
   The nerve endings in his thigh stretched out to detect if the device was still there, acting as a timid scouting party for his shaking arm. The news was positive, reporting the presence of something there of around the right shape.
   He reached out in earnest anticipation and indeed it was his phone. Life, hope, things were looking up.
   He brought it to his face and narrowed his eyes with an experienced burst of inspiration as he turned on the screen and flooded the tiny tomb with light. The news got better; it had battery left, an ample charge.
   He didn’t have much air and he couldn’t move, but he had his phone, with its near full battery and a bit of light. The sight around him wasn’t an impressive one, confirming his deepest and darkest fears about his hopeless location. But it was always nice to know for sure.
   There had to be a catch. There was. Plot twist, he had no reception. He saw none of those precious little bars that represented his escape.
   The panic he had pushed away got the all clear to return and go to town across the rest of his body. To chill his veins further, something chose that exact moment to crawl along his leg. Wild thrashing followed by a craned neck and the pointing of the screen showed a tiny centipede checking things out. With furious concentration he tried to turn it into a pink elephant.    If that effort of dream control worked he was golden. But it didn’t, he was fucked.
   Again he resisted the urge to scratch in desperation because some things were worse than death. But in the end he did it anyway; screaming at the nerve endings being scraped off onto the roof. As suspected, it didn’t help his situation and just resulted in pouring in more dirt. Because of this assault he scratched even harder. Then he struck bone.
   He stopped, calmed, or he might have blacked out from the pain. Regardless, the agony meant that death didn’t appear to be so bad. As the lingering pain throbbed through him it did leave him at a bit of a loose end. He was going to die, that seemed certain, but he didn’t know how best to fill the remaining time.
   His phone seemed like a good diversion to help run down the clock. There was still no reception, not even an ironic ‘SOS only’. But he did notice a new message had been downloaded before the burial out of range.
   His breath laboured in the dust filled tomb but in a stroke of luck he discovered that the message was short.

   I should have just given him a job, he reflected as he gagged on a large clump of dirt. He wasn’t that annoying. Oh well, he thought, you live and you learn. Well at least for a few seconds.

For those wondering who that is… it is kind of a long gaming related story. Just insert whatever wacky celebrity you like for the right effect.

After Happily Ever After – Writing Challenge

Here we go again.

Major theme? “After happily ever after”
Secondary theme? “World building”

Will I play it straight and just write something without making it all strange and conceptual? Nah.

I felt awkward
By
Toddhunter

      “So please, tell me about how you felt that day” the doctor prodded whilst noticeably shifting back into a position that would appear at ease to his patient. Deliberately he brought his two hands together in front of his mouth into a pronounced triangle shape, suggesting he had said all he was going to say for now and it was his turn to listen.

      The small children’s book lying on the brown couch a short distance away from him showed no sign of moving. This was not particularly unusual for such an inanimate object, but to date this had certainly proved to be an unusual case.

      Finally the book let out a long sigh. This was a particularly momentous breakthrough in the psych analysis taking place today. As an aside it also probably made several physics and logics based text books obsolete, but the doctor ignored that fact for now. Those problems were not in his particular field.

      “I felt awkward” the book began in stumbling English delivered in an accent that was infuriatingly difficult to place. “I had a purpose, I was alive. I don’t have eyes but somehow I could see the smile on the child’s face as she read me. Then all of a sudden it was over and I didn’t know what to do. Was I supposed to clap? How?” the book paused, searching for the right words. “Should I have explained what happened in the story? Pointed out plot holes as discussion points? All she did was close me up and put me back on the shelf. I’m not even sure she enjoyed it and I’m worried it is my fault”.

      Another long sigh followed, even heavier than the first. The final admission was perhaps a bigger breakthrough then a book coming to life and starting to discuss its feelings. Furiously the doctor scribbled notes whilst nodding his head sympathetically to prompt the book to continue.

      Unfortunately the book was not forthcoming with any more discourse. Tentatively, the doctor offered “Did you perhaps feel responsible for the quality of the story?” Immediately he saw his mistake as imperceptibly to all but the most trained eyes the book glanced towards the door of the small office and looked like it was prepared to leave. Hastily the doc added “I mean, you didn’t write it and all. From your description it sounded like the story was read well enough by the child. Isn’t delivering just the words your primary role?”

      “I suppose” nodded the book as well as its anatomy permitted. “But what good does that do me? I can’t change the story inside me; it doesn’t get any better the next time they read it. Everything was just so poorly designed and loosely described. I know nothing about the world I’m supposed to be communicating, how is the reader meant to pick this up and be entranced by it all?”

      “Have you considered writing more? It seems impossible, given the physical limitations which we have explored in previous meetings. But perhaps given the breakthrough of you beginning to talk and move it is now more feasible? Do you think that would help you become happier?”

      The book scoffed openly at the suggestion. “I’d have to re-write the whole thing for it to be any good. But that isn’t what bothers me I suppose; it is more the questions I’m left with.”

      “Why don’t we just try together” the doctor offered, reaching out his hand gently to place it on what he hoped was the book’s shoulder. “What do you think would have happened next?”

      Ignoring the massively inappropriate contact from the refreshingly attractive doctor, the book sunk back deeper into the couch and started to describe what it thought would follow the end. At first it was a quite tentative and hesitant description, but quickly his words started to take on more confidence and began to frame a whole new world.

                                                            *****

      The ice clinked softly in her glass as it swished around in unison with her thoughts. She wasn’t used to the effects of liquor yet at all and hardly even enjoyed the unusual and mostly unpleasant taste.

      Cringing noticeably at the bitter and long lingering after taste, she wondered how anything could be so alien compared to anything she had drunk before. The answer was simple of course; it was different because all she had ever drunk in her previous life had been water. This had ill-prepared her from fighting off the drunken stupor that was now warmly spreading its welcoming arms about her and inhibiting her ability to ponder such deep recollections or much anything else besides.

      It wasn’t even past midday.

      “Happily ever after” had been the promise she scoffed to nobody in particular as she sat alone in the drawing room of what was once to her a magical and resplendent seaside castle. She had never quite worked out which was stupider, her naive teenage fantasies which had led her here or the complicit actions of those much older and wiser than her that should have known a whole lot better.

      “Ah Ariel?” a strong but uncertain voice rang out, disturbing her silence and instantly darkening her already surly mood.
Ariel didn’t reply or turn towards the voice. Very deliberately she took a long draw from her glass, grimacing at the assault on her taste buds. She began to put the glass down beside her but thought better of it. Bringing it back up slowly to her bare lips, she swallowed the remaining amber liquid in one undignified gulp and slammed the glass down roughly to the point of breaking on the small but no doubt priceless glass table beside her.

      The voice remained silent for a respectful time but soon lost patience and broke out again. “I’m just going out for a few days. Need to take care of some … castle business. Trouble with the neighbouring lands…”

      Ariel turned to address her fair Prince but somehow without even finishing his sentence he was already gone, off to attend to whatever pressing duty was demanded of his office. Idly Ariel wondered which of a large number of girls it would be this time that he was off to see and what princely position he was going to screw her in.

      She supposed it was mostly her fault. The mechanics of human sex were just so alien to her. Even the Mermaid process of ejecting eggs was just a giggled rumour she had partaken with innocently amongst friends. The bawdy subject of shy suggestions they had whispered to each other when they thought no adults were around to hear them. The later discrete fertilisation was not even something she had understood, so detached from the Female of the species was the process. Things were so very different here.

      The mermaid process was magical but did lack the supposed combined intimacy of the human penetrations. This fundamental distance between males and females Mermaids made later strong relationships difficult amongst her kind and this could be why she was so stuck in the position she was in.

      Despite what she thought was her eternal love; she failed to hide her horror from her face the first time he had tried to do “it” to her. From that point on it never got better no matter how hard she tried to relax and enjoy the mating. He simply had needs, often several times a day that she could never hope to fulfil. All she could do was fake an interest in the proceedings and try to keep the disgust hidden for long enough so he could finish. She couldn’t really blame him for looking elsewhere when that is what he had to deal with.

      Still, his deceit stung her every time, not least because every single other person in the castle seemed to know her failings too. However that was just the tip of the iceberg that represented her unhappiness. There were other problems with this world as well.

      As she unsteadily rose up and wandered to the large window overlooking the ocean her frown got even deeper. It was a pretty big warning flag in hindsight, the castle and town being built directly on the sea side. The people around here traded almost solely in fish and not for pets either. There wasn’t any useable land nearby amongst the rocky outcrops of the remote land. No fishing meant nobody got any food. No food meant there wasn’t any kingdom, kids or laughter in the streets.

      Although they shipped in other food for her, night after night she had to watch people catch and devour her former friends. The shipments of other food meant for her never came quickly enough either. Sooner or later she was forced back to a seafood diet to support her rapidly expanding frame. Unsurprisingly, few of her remaining live friends came to visit and none of them ever stayed.

      She was very alone. Not even the creepy old servant was a comfort anymore. The way he gazed at her hungrily suggested a worse life to come when the Prince finally gave up the formality and discarded her. Women had no rights in this land. They existed just to serve, no matter how degrading the command. To date she had been lucky that the prince largely ignored her. She was sure that others of a much lower standing would not be so gentle.

      As if on cue she could feel his dirty eyes on her as he entered almost silently from the far side of the room. The prince might have lost interest in her bloated body but the extra curves seemed to turn his loyal subject on all the more. It wasn’t easy to try to preserve her figure by going from the constant exercise of nonstop swimming to sitting around being depressed. Even worse she had no reason she could think of to even try anymore.

      As she turned to see what he wanted, he just smiled wickedly at her in return and allowed his tongue to protrude slightly from between his lips. With a flourish he presented a platter of food for her lunch time enjoyment, bowed slowly with a lingering gaze on her bosom and swept back out again never taking his eyes off of her.

      She recognised the fish placed in the centre of the plate. Losing control she began to cry.

                                                            *****

      The book finished, visibly drained from the creative effort that its mental capacity was all too unfamiliar with. It realised quite quickly that none of its questions had been answered at all, but it did feel somewhat better and that was at least a start. Smiling, the doctor seemed to catch on to this change of mood through the different body language alone

      Sensing a lingering pause, the Doctor decided to interrupt any further descriptions. “That is all well and good, but do you really see now? No matter how much you describe in a story, no matter how much you build up the world, there will always be more questions. The little girl who read the story in you wouldn’t even think about the mating habits of Mermaids. It isn’t important to her at this stage of her development at all.” He paused for effect, or perhaps to dismiss an unwelcome train of thought. “But one day, she just might ask those questions and begin to write a book of her own to flesh out the details. I might even read it myself” he added, trying not to sound incredibly creepy but failing horribly.

      “So your advice is basically I should just suck it up and deal with it?” remarked the book sourly. It paused once again to search its feelings before demanding rhetorically “Why am I even paying for this?” It was so annoyed that it decided it didn’t want to be in the little office with the potentially sexually perverse doctor anymore and tried its best to gain the critical skill of movement and leave.

      And so it was, with the hour not even close to being up that the book left the small and increasingly uncomfortable office. Although it had several more appointments lined up, it decided then and there to blow them all off. To be fair, the doctor had helped him reach this point; but the rest of the journey was one that it had to take alone. Smiling internally, the only way it knew how, the book ventured forth to live happily ever after. Although ironically in doing so, it also managed to transfer a surprising amount of angst on.

                                                            ###