What to Write

One of the most difficult parts with starting a new writing project no matter the type is deciding just what to write. NaNoWriMo officially begins in about a day and a half, so I figured today I would write about deciding what to write about. Deep, I know.

Ideas can come from anywhere. Existing works can be a great influence, but accusations of plagiarism can be a frightening concept. The trick with using an existing work as your muse is to treat it as a diving board; an entry way into the pool of possible ideas. What can you do to make the story yours? To take control? It is not even necessary to focus too heavily on making sure your story is different; typically, the more time you spend focusing on making your story different, the more the similarities are highlighted. Go with the flow, and let the story carry you along. To extend the diving board metaphor above, let the ripples carry you forward, but change how you dive in.

This year, my muse came from the radio. Specifically, a single word I heard on the radio while driving to work a few weeks ago. I couldn't tell you if I heard it in a song or on a commercial, but the words "home fire" really stuck out. I believe, though I am not certain, that it was part of a phrase, "Keep the home fires burning." and immediately I started thinking of a story to fit that phrase. The first question I had was: Why? Why do you need to keep the home fire burning? What would happen if the home fire went out? Why is it called a home fire? Is it different from a regular fire? Slowly, I started to figure out the answers.

First of all, what is the difference? Why do you need to specify that it is a home fire? The reason for this distinction, is that the home fire is the portal back home. If the home fire is extinguished, so is the connection to your home. Without the guiding light of that special flame, you are destined to roam, lost, forever. In order for this to make sense, though, the home fire also had to play a role in leaving the home. If you imagine an island, you cannot escape the island without a boat, but you also cannot reach the island without a boat. That left me with the concept that people had to choose to go somewhere, knowing full well that their return relied on the mythical home fire.

In order to make such a decision, the people would need a strong driving force. If they had another option, a safer option, why would they not take it? I saw two options: the destination was so beautiful or wondrous that people just had to see it, or that they had to go there in order to survive, in order for their families to survive. Both possibilities held promise, but ultimately I decided to go with the latter. Forcing people into the situation, rather than having them go by choice, seemed to offer a clearer path for the progression of the story. Ultimately, I decided that the home fire would serve as a portal to a mine, a hellish underworld that held gems and minerals needed on the surface. In order to feed their families, one man from each house would work in the mines every day, bringing up gems and rocks to feed his family. The catch being that every man knew if his lantern of home fire were to be extinguished, he would be stuck in the mines forever. You cannot create new home fire, and you cannot use a fire from somebody else, only the flame that brought you in can take you out.

Obviously, the conflict would involve the main character's fire going out, but what would that mean for him? If a typical man were trapped in a hellish mine, knowing that he had nothing to lose, completely void of hope, what would he do? I'm sure some people would go insane; fight and try to take out as many people as possible. Others would opt for flight; convince themselves that there has to be some escape. Others still would probably just give up and accept the inevitable. But then what would the other miners do? How would they handle seeing their former comrade put into this situation? Ultimately, I decided that the other miners, under instruction from their government, would turn on and kill any miner who loses his way back home. Not all miners agree with this, but they know it is kill or be killed. If you are caught disobeying, you will be the next one executed.

There is a reason the government encourages death, but that will be saved for the story itself.

And there you have it. From a word on the radio, to a brief and basic outline of a potential novel. See, that wasn't so hard, now was it?

November is Coming

Election day. Thanksgiving. And NaNoWriMo.

It is nearly that time again, National Novel Writing Month is just 23 days away, and that means that I need to get prepared for the upcoming writing frenzy. For the uninitiated, NaNoWriMo is a challenge to write a 50,000 word novel in thirty days, from November 1 to November 30. This year will be my sixth year attempting the NaNoWriMo challenge, and alas, it pains me to admit that I have never won.

In 2007, I wrote a fantasy novel that was a prequel to a story I had written in high school. This ended at about 12,000 words and my grades slipped a bit. I got better with my time management and in 2008 reached 17,000 words without a grade slip, but still no victory. 2009 I shifted gears and tried to write a murder mystery. This reached 24,000 words. 2010 I was back to fantasy and hit 32,000 words, then last year I slipped again, back down to about 20,000 words.

NaNoWriMo is run by the same company behind Script Frenzy, which I attempted for the first time last April. This year, I have a large collection of potential plots to choose from. Specifically, I have 5 pages of notes for 23 different story ideas. Some of the ideas have close to a full page outline while others have a mere sentence to describe my thoughts, but they all have potential. The hardest part now is to narrow down my ideas and pick a single story to run with. Most of my ideas are fantasy, as that is what I enjoy the most and am most comfortable writing, but I also have a few supernatural stories, horror stories, and mysteries.

Only time will tell what I run with this year, and time is running out. After all, November is Coming.

NaPoWriMo Day 30 - Dreams

Dreams

Dreams come and go, yarn on the loom
forming a tapestry, a quilt, a story
being told with each thread pulled
from a different stock. Individual
strings are mixed throughout, grand
picture never to be completed, never
fully connecting, waiting forevermore,
waiting for stitches, to be made whole
at last. But when the dreamer awakens
threads are cut, stories are twisted
lost amongst the shadows of daylight,
blankets tossed asunder, care ungiven
to the unformed quilt of lost dreams.

NaPoWriMo Day 29 - The Dunes

The Dunes

A small parking lot sits next to tracks
where trains carry freight and fellows
away from the lakes and the woods,
towards the ever expanding distant city.
I am not on the train, nor following
the tracks, walking instead, between
tracks and trees, under the cackling
power lines. A symphony of both machine
and animal fills the fresh air, smelling
of water and sand, leaves and the faint
hint of train exhaust, mingling throughout.
The path curves, no more tracks or power
lines, a forest erupts around me, a deer
stops nibbling to watch with wary eye
this stranger to his domain, but my steps
carry me past the deer and further, further
through the trees, up the hills, towards
the scent of water, growing stronger,
past the ever changing horizon. The ground
grows soft, sandy, though the trees remain
dense as ever, until they remain no more,
disappeared, as if swallowed by something
unseen and unknown, replaced with mounds
of sand, like drifts of granular snow,
lapping waters making a pristine backdrop.

NaPoWriMo Day 28 - Single Malt Scotch

Single Malt Scotch

All across the college campus, cheap
cans of beer are all the rage, drunk
nights and drunk days, vomit induced
hangovers hosting an eternal party.
Occasionally special occasions arise
and students spring for cheap tequila
or vodka or whiskey to mix their nights
celebrating loss of memory, inhibition,
and the contents of their stomachs.
They cry out in joy, claiming fun times
are theirs for the taking, but I pity
them, never taking the time to sit back
and enjoy the elegantly refined taste
of liquid gold, a single malt scotch.

NaPoWriMo Day 27 - Novelist & Poet

Novelist & Poet

A novelist and a poet walk into a bar,
or rather a coffee shop, with wi-fi,
of course, as is most often the case,
and fight for a seat near the plug
so their laptops can live, allowing
them to build and create word worlds
where everybody can see them, hear
the tics of fast fingers, typing
nothing, the words on the page less
important than the image of a writer,
hard at work creating. God of a world.

NaPoWriMo Day 26 - Bushido

Bushido

It is ingrained, intrinsically known
unuttered and unwritten, yet trained
from birth through sensei's actions.
Honor and morality, no room remaining
for greed or selfishness, a balance
naturally occurring, between souls
animal, plant, and mineral, earthly
scales delicately stacked, a narrow
path, a recipe of success followed
by necessity to the unwritten letter,
the difference between an elegant
masterpiece, surviving through ages,
and an infamous disgrace, a rancid
concoction on history's taste buds.