Hang on a minute: It’s National Drunken Writing Night (NaDruWriNi) tonight and no-one told me. Hrmph.
I had planned to keep to an easy night tonight, due to having had one or perhaps three too many intemperance beverages last night. But I’m already skipping National Novel Writing Month, due to already having a novel in progress that I’m committed to finishing by December 31. And I drink and write, sometimes at the same time. So this event seems perfect for me this year.
My Plan: Finally, at last, revise the plot sheets for The Novel. I started them in the summer, then ran into a roadblock that required rethinking (or more fully thinking out) the characters. Then I couldn’t face the plot sheets, because … well, I don’t know the because. So here I think the inhibition-reduction of NaDruWriNi could help. I’ll post notes through the next few hours in the extended part of this post.
And I’m off!
(Entries read from newest to oldest.)
Beverage: Hot Toddy (These are great! I should have been drinking these all along.)
Writing: The essay notes are going like crap, but the topic is good and I feel sure it can eventually come out OK. Am trying to channel all my beloved, besotted writers and simply get the words down so I can fix them. I think of myself as a better editor than writer — if I could separate the two skill sets and use them each at far different times, I know I’d create the writing I want. Instead the editor and writer keep tripping over each other in their haste to make good writing more quickly. We/I want it now.
I’m going to have to bring this party to a close soon, and before I forget I want to thank B for creating this inspiring event. And I want to cheer on the many who are participating or who have passed out from participating so well. And I especially want to cheer on those who are participating without drinking, who are unbelievably stronger than I can imagine being.
On an unrelated topic, did I mention how good The Incredibles is? It’s very good. Also, I want to live in the Incredibles’ house. The furniture is exactly the furniture I want, the house has such cool roof angles, and the whole thing embodies chic. I suppose I don’t actually like their subdivision, or any subdivision, but if I could plop their house down where mine is now, I’d be Living the Dream. I bet they have turquoise mosaic tile in their bathrooms.
Feeling: Somewhat drunker. Maybe you already noticed.
Beverage: Still on the second beer, but nearly finished.
Writing: Here are things I have done, instead of writing, in the two hours since I started this:
Made and ate a bowl of pasta
Cleaned dust and cat hair out of my keyboard (ick)
Read some comic strips online
Checked for new email about a dozen times
Read blogs of other people who are writing more than I am
Feeling: A goodly bit more drunk than 20 minutes ago. Some troulbe typing, made worse by injuries to the fingers that I suffered while helping build the set at the theater today. Not quite so tired now though.
Writing: Bukowski I am not. Last night’s revelries, which were relatively in-control, have put a damper on my desire to drink anything tonight. Also, I have to get up early…. Excuses, excuses.
But I have made it through the plot. I continue to worry it’s not strong enough. But parts of it still make me laugh, which has to be a good thing. This evening I came up with a good twist, so that’s another positive result of the evening. I’m going to leave off the novel for the night, start fresh on it tomorrow. For the rest of the night, I’m switching to capturing notes for a new personal essay thingie.
Mood: Still not drunk. (Is that a mood?)
Beverage: Dogpile India Brown Ale #2
Writing: OK, so the beginning of the plot still mostly works even with the character revisions. Meaning, all the times I put off reading through this stuff I was being silly, because it still works and I was scared of nothing. Also, already I’ve gotten some value from this evening’s adventure. However, this would be a poor time to stop — I need at least to get through all of the plot as written so far, so I can start tomorrow with a simple, blank piece of paper. It’s nice to have a reachable goal.
Also, I find others’ posts on this drunken writing evening to be interesting. Everyone has interpreted the challenge of the event in a unique way. I wish I’d started earlier and had committed to simple, random writing for the night, rather than continuing a focused project I’d started already. Ah well. THere’s always next year.
Mood: Cautiously optimistic. Tired, sadly not drunk.
Beverage: Dogpile India Brown Ale
Writing: I first have to get the writing gear out of the car, where it was quietly waiting for tomorrow morning’s drive to the coffeeshop — I’ve written this same novel twice already and been unhappy with the plot both times, so this time I’m focusing first on plot, planning the whole story before creating the text. It feels weird to write this way. Inelegant. But I’ve decided to trust the process and not stray until the bloody thing is written.
Mood: Anxious, but determined. Also ever so slightly pleased that the universe has conspired to force me into writing on a weekend I’d almost let it slide (again).