Amanda Meuwissen's Blog - Posts Tagged "wip"
NaNoWriMo with Amanda Meuwissen
Considering I have 4 published books, and more fanfiction written than I think I could ever catalog or properly document for insane word count, it may come as a surprise that I have never participated in NaNoWriMo before (National Novel Writing Month).
On November 1 every year, participants begin working towards the goal of writing a 50,000-word novel by 11:59 PM on November 30. I already have around 40k words for my current work in progress, but I know I have close to 50k more to go before it’ll be complete, so I decided that participating in NaNo was the perfect vehicle to ensure I finish the rough draft of my next novel before the end of the year.
50k words is not as daunting as it may appear at first glance. This equals about 1200 words a day—not too difficult, and helps instill that age old ‘write everyday’ habit I’ve gone on about before. My goal is to at least do 1200 each day, so that if I do encounter a day where it just doesn’t happen, or I fall short, I’ll have enough words in the bank that it won’t derail my overall progress.
Today is day 3 (and I haven’t written anything yet, aside from this blog post) but so far I already have 3679 words written for my novel Life as a Teenage Vampire.
Here’s a small snippet of my work, which I’m also posting little paragraphs of each day on my tumblr page to help keep me motivated. Participating in NaNo this year? Tell me about it! Any advice to share? Any questions for me as a rookie taking on this awesome annual activity? Let me know! And by December 1st, here’s hoping I have the beginnings of my next serialized work for BigWorldNetwork.com, and my next novel on its way!
Life as a Teenage Vampire by Amanda Meuwissen
It was a trick. Emery had made it all up, knowing that the details would lead Connor to vampires. These were just Halloween fangs. Connor wasn’t really hypnotized into submission; he was just stunned, believing his own crazy imagination. He’d longed for years to have Emery this close, after all, crowding him into a corner, lips descending. He’d just imagined them descending a little closer to his mouth, though his neck wouldn’t be so bad…
…if not for the sharp sting, the breaking of the skin and rush of blood sucked out of him so fast he felt dizzy, and then—wow.
It didn’t hurt at all. It felt like Emery was tucked into his shoulder intimately, fully aware of the pleasant buzzing he caused in Connor’s gut every time they touched. Connor had dreamed of this, imagined it just like this, and felt lulled by Emery’s body being so close, and the way he shivered feeling those lips on his skin. He almost thought he heard Emery’s soothing voice whispering affirmations he’d always wanted to hear.
“Em…” Connor breathed out, barely audible.
The room was dimming, but he felt cozy where he was. His arms were limp and heavy as he lifted them to pull Emery closer, feeling the soft fabric of the sweater against his somewhat numb right palm. He pulled tighter, twisting flesh and plastic fingers alike in the fabric, pulling…with the faint sense that he should be pushing instead.
“Em…” he choked out like a whimper, like he was crying. Why was he crying? This was everything he’d ever wanted…
Reality snapped back into painful, terrible focus when Emery released him, his fangs pulling from the tender skin of Connor’s neck, the brief feeling of a tongue licking over the wound, and then Emery jerked away from Connor with a harsh intake of breath.
Emery’s hands had moved at some point from the wall to Connor’s shoulders, and the second he removed them, Connor dropped straight to the carpet.
“Connor!”
On November 1 every year, participants begin working towards the goal of writing a 50,000-word novel by 11:59 PM on November 30. I already have around 40k words for my current work in progress, but I know I have close to 50k more to go before it’ll be complete, so I decided that participating in NaNo was the perfect vehicle to ensure I finish the rough draft of my next novel before the end of the year.
50k words is not as daunting as it may appear at first glance. This equals about 1200 words a day—not too difficult, and helps instill that age old ‘write everyday’ habit I’ve gone on about before. My goal is to at least do 1200 each day, so that if I do encounter a day where it just doesn’t happen, or I fall short, I’ll have enough words in the bank that it won’t derail my overall progress.
Today is day 3 (and I haven’t written anything yet, aside from this blog post) but so far I already have 3679 words written for my novel Life as a Teenage Vampire.
Here’s a small snippet of my work, which I’m also posting little paragraphs of each day on my tumblr page to help keep me motivated. Participating in NaNo this year? Tell me about it! Any advice to share? Any questions for me as a rookie taking on this awesome annual activity? Let me know! And by December 1st, here’s hoping I have the beginnings of my next serialized work for BigWorldNetwork.com, and my next novel on its way!
Life as a Teenage Vampire by Amanda Meuwissen
It was a trick. Emery had made it all up, knowing that the details would lead Connor to vampires. These were just Halloween fangs. Connor wasn’t really hypnotized into submission; he was just stunned, believing his own crazy imagination. He’d longed for years to have Emery this close, after all, crowding him into a corner, lips descending. He’d just imagined them descending a little closer to his mouth, though his neck wouldn’t be so bad…
…if not for the sharp sting, the breaking of the skin and rush of blood sucked out of him so fast he felt dizzy, and then—wow.
It didn’t hurt at all. It felt like Emery was tucked into his shoulder intimately, fully aware of the pleasant buzzing he caused in Connor’s gut every time they touched. Connor had dreamed of this, imagined it just like this, and felt lulled by Emery’s body being so close, and the way he shivered feeling those lips on his skin. He almost thought he heard Emery’s soothing voice whispering affirmations he’d always wanted to hear.
“Em…” Connor breathed out, barely audible.
The room was dimming, but he felt cozy where he was. His arms were limp and heavy as he lifted them to pull Emery closer, feeling the soft fabric of the sweater against his somewhat numb right palm. He pulled tighter, twisting flesh and plastic fingers alike in the fabric, pulling…with the faint sense that he should be pushing instead.
“Em…” he choked out like a whimper, like he was crying. Why was he crying? This was everything he’d ever wanted…
Reality snapped back into painful, terrible focus when Emery released him, his fangs pulling from the tender skin of Connor’s neck, the brief feeling of a tongue licking over the wound, and then Emery jerked away from Connor with a harsh intake of breath.
Emery’s hands had moved at some point from the wall to Connor’s shoulders, and the second he removed them, Connor dropped straight to the carpet.
“Connor!”
Gardeners Versus Architects – The Importance of a Writer Keeping Notes
There are two types of writers (and those of us who fall into a third category somewhere in between)—those who plan out everything to the letter before they write, and those who write by the seat of their pants, allowing the characters and writing process to dictate where the story goes.
Or, as George R.R. Martin puts it:
Even those of us who would staunchly consider ourselves architects will often change things when our characters surprise us and a little gardening is needed. But I think it’s also important for gardeners to at the very least retroactively do some heavy planning, namely by taking notes as they write and brainstorm ideas that they can easily reference later when editing.
I am a middle of the road writer. I plan, more so with every new book idea, but those plans change, often greatly as a story moves forward, and I’ll find myself altering even the biggest plot points. This is made so much easier by taking excessive notes from the start of the writing process through completion.
Title ideas? Written down. Character bios and physical descriptions? All down. Snippets of dialogue. An outline. And, eventually, notes about plot points, reveals, really any pertinent details marked as connected to the chapter they appear in so that later I can easily see any plot holes or things I missed that need to be brought up again, or maybe even removed.
I cannot tell you how helpful this practice was as I edited what will be my new series, Life as a Teenager Vampire, starting with BWN in February! Even with a few ‘kill your darlings’ moments. I had the notes, but darn it, the scene or detail no longer worked with the overall story. (Of course I still saved those notes, and any scenes I cut, because you should never, ever delete something you could potentially use later or change your mind about).
So I implore you, fellow writers, whether you’re a gardener like Martin, a planner, or a mixed bag like me, take notes throughout your entire writing process. You and your readers will be thankful for the attention to detail and (hopefully) flawless plot that comes out of it.
Or, as George R.R. Martin puts it:
“I think there are two types of writers, the architects and the gardeners. The architects plan everything ahead of time, like an architect building a house. They know how many rooms are going to be in the house, what kind of roof they're going to have, where the wires are going to run, what kind of plumbing there's going to be. They have the whole thing designed and blueprinted out before they even nail the first board up. The gardeners dig a hole, drop in a seed and water it. They kind of know what seed it is, they know if planted a fantasy seed or mystery seed or whatever. But as the plant comes up and they water it, they don't know how many branches it's going to have, they find out as it grows. And I'm much more a gardener than an architect.”
Even those of us who would staunchly consider ourselves architects will often change things when our characters surprise us and a little gardening is needed. But I think it’s also important for gardeners to at the very least retroactively do some heavy planning, namely by taking notes as they write and brainstorm ideas that they can easily reference later when editing.
I am a middle of the road writer. I plan, more so with every new book idea, but those plans change, often greatly as a story moves forward, and I’ll find myself altering even the biggest plot points. This is made so much easier by taking excessive notes from the start of the writing process through completion.
Title ideas? Written down. Character bios and physical descriptions? All down. Snippets of dialogue. An outline. And, eventually, notes about plot points, reveals, really any pertinent details marked as connected to the chapter they appear in so that later I can easily see any plot holes or things I missed that need to be brought up again, or maybe even removed.
I cannot tell you how helpful this practice was as I edited what will be my new series, Life as a Teenager Vampire, starting with BWN in February! Even with a few ‘kill your darlings’ moments. I had the notes, but darn it, the scene or detail no longer worked with the overall story. (Of course I still saved those notes, and any scenes I cut, because you should never, ever delete something you could potentially use later or change your mind about).
So I implore you, fellow writers, whether you’re a gardener like Martin, a planner, or a mixed bag like me, take notes throughout your entire writing process. You and your readers will be thankful for the attention to detail and (hopefully) flawless plot that comes out of it.
A Hero with the Best of Intentions
The following is a teaser, the opening for my current WIP, The Royal Spark.
I'm very excited to work on this next endeavor, as a superhero fan, to delve into a world where some though few people have powers, or magic, some merely amazing tech, and to explore the dynamic between what makes someone a hero or a villain. Like all my stories, there is also a M/M romance element to be found. So enjoy! And stay tuned for more as this story takes shape.
-----
Knight filled the syringe to the brim. Every last ounce needed to be injected into the subject in order for his plan to work. He had synthesized the formula to match the one he had given himself exactly, with one variation. Undetectable unless someone knew what they were looking for, the miniscule nanomachines he’d added produced a substance that would react like a time release drug over several months, manipulating the subject’s personality to such a small degree the change would seem natural. A man slowly losing his mind, growing colder, harder, and more twisted to his base desires.
Satisfied, Knight replaced the cap on the syringe, and slipped it carefully inside his jacket pocket, where it would wait, as he watched the subject throughout the day, until the ideal opportunity presented itself.
Knight had chosen the subject after years of careful planning and insinuating himself into the man’s life. The subject wasn’t the hero type upon first glance. Tall but altogether too thin rather than well-muscled. Not a natural Power or a Mage. Merely a man, a high school teacher, pushing thirty. He had few close friends. Minimal family. No romantic attachments. He lived alone, and kept his schedule clear most nights save the time he spent on classwork. Yet despite this, anyone who knew him loved him deeply.
His charm wasn’t in being the strongest, or the smartest, or best looking. His body was weak, often sickly. His talent for biochemistry reached no further than the classroom; not the type to make new discoveries or affect drastic change in the field. And while some might consider him handsome, he hid behind thick black-framed glasses, tousled hair, and cardigan sweaters that made him look more like a twenty-something grandfather than a lonely young man.
It was his sincerity that swayed people who got to know him. His stalwart belief in others. His ability to triumph over obstacles and tragedy in his life with an unwavering smile. He also desperately, his entire life, had always wanted to be a Power. An unassuming good person who would never squander any abilities he was granted. And that was the most important detail of all.
Because who would ever suspect a hero with the best of intentions?
I'm very excited to work on this next endeavor, as a superhero fan, to delve into a world where some though few people have powers, or magic, some merely amazing tech, and to explore the dynamic between what makes someone a hero or a villain. Like all my stories, there is also a M/M romance element to be found. So enjoy! And stay tuned for more as this story takes shape.
-----
Knight filled the syringe to the brim. Every last ounce needed to be injected into the subject in order for his plan to work. He had synthesized the formula to match the one he had given himself exactly, with one variation. Undetectable unless someone knew what they were looking for, the miniscule nanomachines he’d added produced a substance that would react like a time release drug over several months, manipulating the subject’s personality to such a small degree the change would seem natural. A man slowly losing his mind, growing colder, harder, and more twisted to his base desires.
Satisfied, Knight replaced the cap on the syringe, and slipped it carefully inside his jacket pocket, where it would wait, as he watched the subject throughout the day, until the ideal opportunity presented itself.
Knight had chosen the subject after years of careful planning and insinuating himself into the man’s life. The subject wasn’t the hero type upon first glance. Tall but altogether too thin rather than well-muscled. Not a natural Power or a Mage. Merely a man, a high school teacher, pushing thirty. He had few close friends. Minimal family. No romantic attachments. He lived alone, and kept his schedule clear most nights save the time he spent on classwork. Yet despite this, anyone who knew him loved him deeply.
His charm wasn’t in being the strongest, or the smartest, or best looking. His body was weak, often sickly. His talent for biochemistry reached no further than the classroom; not the type to make new discoveries or affect drastic change in the field. And while some might consider him handsome, he hid behind thick black-framed glasses, tousled hair, and cardigan sweaters that made him look more like a twenty-something grandfather than a lonely young man.
It was his sincerity that swayed people who got to know him. His stalwart belief in others. His ability to triumph over obstacles and tragedy in his life with an unwavering smile. He also desperately, his entire life, had always wanted to be a Power. An unassuming good person who would never squander any abilities he was granted. And that was the most important detail of all.
Because who would ever suspect a hero with the best of intentions?
