DeicideThe Sun explodes in a scarlet Sky
Cremating the world with it's awful light
People shout to heaven as they die
But no one's there to hear their plight
Some will wonder, how this came to be,
The Earth incinerated in it’s own heat
And though the masses fell and bent the knee
The ground still imploded beneath their feet
Should have said a prayer to entropy,
and face the existential dread,
Realized that time is the true enemy,
and sooner or later we'll all be dead
Perhaps God will not forget his own
Or at least they will not die alone.
A Wizard for a Dowery PrologueA Wizard for a Dowery: Prologue
It is evident in the indelible histories of man that human beings are principally creatures of dynamism and invention, creatures of transience and adaptability. To say it in another way the only thing for sure is that nothing is for sure.
It was one thousand years ago, in the time of the Ascension, that he who history would come to know as the One Mighty And Strong split open the skies and ascended to heaven. Where, it is said, he reordered the stars and changed the fundamental nature of the Universe. Thus began the era of miracles which even a millennium later still defines our world.
An era which brought forth the Elementals kings, the beastkin, and the legendary giants of Syrephon Deep. However as if in response to nature's reassertion of its ancient divine powers mankind rose above the world and gravitated into space. A gap grew between common folk who were bound to the land and
Break out the champagne and confetti! Today I “won” Nanowrimo. Which is to say, I’ve written 50,000 words since November 1st. That sounds like a lot. And it is. Unless you’re a writing god like Charles Hamilton, and can write 6,000 words of clean copy a day. But, if you’re a writing pansy like me, it’s a shit-ton.
The reality is that it’s actually not too bad once you find a solid rhythm. That and you have to stop being picky about your do-re-mi’s. There is simply no time to edit every single syllable that flies from your fingertips. When I came to grips with that… I suddenly found it freeing. Instead of looking back and agonizing over the pile of reeking manure I had left in my wake, I simply steam rolled ahead. Tight-lipped, veins protruding from my forehead.
Now, maybe I was just paving highways of lower-intestinal sludge, but those stinking, corn-laden roads took me to some interesting places. Places I probably wouldn’t have arrived at had I taken my standard, nit-picky, pooper-scooper approach. It only took me 24 days to get 50,000 words, and there are some important gems that I was able to glean from this whole mess. We’ll get to that shortly.
First, let me start by explaining that there are generally two types of writers, Gardeners and Architects. Gardeners write by the seat of their pants and don’t do much planning. They prefer to feel things out, making it up as they go. It may be interesting to note, per my above metaphor about shit-roads, that gardeners need a healthy amount of fertilizer to make things grow.
Architects, on the other hand are a bit more hesitant to put their hands into the tenuous mind-slop and start sculpting. Instead, they prefer to make clever outlines. They want a nice crisp map, compass, sextant, and a GPS before they even start writing. I am an Architect by nature. Call me a creative wimp, but I much prefer the fine, detailed control of planning my writing adventures in advance. I’ve got not problem striking off into the wild blue yonder, I just damn well prefer a map. That and I don’t like having to clean the poop from under my fingernails.
Perhaps the best part of my Nano experience was being forced to go from writing as an Architect to writing as a Gardener. I started with a half-assed outline. I wrote my first ten or so chapters according to plan, but when the outline dripped its last drop of plot gravy… I had to keep writing. It was uncomfortable at first, but I quickly adapted and learned that I can write by the seat of my pants.
Now, most of what I expelled from the trapdoor of my long johns warrants a rewrite. But I’m a perfectionist. I rewrite anyway. Getting that first draft pushed out can often be the most hemorrhoid-inducing part. Fortunately, I’ve found that it’s much easier to do that Gardener style, with a metaphorical clothespin over my nose.
The ability to switch gears from Architect to Gardener as needed will be very handy in the years to come as I start writing my novels. I don’t want to lose the momentum that this exercise has created. That is to say, I really enjoyed the ease at which writing comes when I’ve been doing it daily for over three weeks at high volume. (You expected another poop joke, didn’t you?) Don’t get me wrong, I am definitely looking forward to the break in tempo. However, I’ve come to a realization. The Nano-pace is the type of pace I should maintain in order to reach my personal writing goals. That is a bit intimidating. But the good new is: now I have no doubt in my mind that I can do it.
That confidence is priceless.