National Novel Writing Month - Page 2

Ophiel · #21 11-06-2008, 02:15 PM

I don't know, I think it could work well.

My thinking is that we wouldn't be constructing this word by word. OK, so someone writing a whole chapter to themselves wouldn't be very sporting, but I dunno, a paragraph or so at a time wouldn't be too terrible. It does at least mean that the style would jump around at a manageable rate, as I'm not sure everyone on KR would want to maintain my style, nor I theirs.

TheEmpress · #22 11-06-2008, 05:03 PM

A book about ramon with ramon as a narrator would probably be like a cross between prozac nation and catcher in the rye, except ten thousand times as annoying and whiney as those two put together.

If it existed I'd probably read it out of curiosity. & forcing myself to finish it like i had to with prozac nation.

Duchess · #23 11-06-2008, 06:42 PM

So, it's my job to read and judge books, so I a bit feel weird about actually trying to write one myself and not planning or considering what I'm writing, but this is what I managed to 'bang out' in six minutes and I'm totally aware it's trite shite:

I stare at the damp stained ceiling. How did this become my life? I hear her breathing and imagine the rise and fall of freckled chest but can’t bear to turn in case I wake her. She isn’t going to be happy about this. In fact, she’s going to be furious. She might even hit me. She did once before. Square on the nose with clenched fist. I bled on her sheets and when I offered to have them dry cleaned she launched herself across the room and started pulling my hair.
‘We’ve done it again, haven’t we?’ She rolls away from me, taking most of the covers with her.
‘I guess,’ I mumble. She groans, wrapping more of the covers around her, leaving me completely naked. If I complain I’m cold she’ll tell me to dress. I desperately want a cup of tea.
‘What did I put up my nose last night? It feels like I’ve been sniffing shards of glass.’
I’m not sure how honest to be. She put an impressive amount of drugs up there. She might freak out. Or she might laugh.
‘I don’t know,’ I settle for. My arms are covered in goose pimples. I clamp my teeth together to stop my jaw from chattering. I wonder if my lips are turning blue.
‘You don’t have to wait around. I’m probably going to go back to sleep now.’
But I want to touch you, I don’t say. Instead I slowly rise and swing my legs off the bed. She doesn’t turn around or say anything as I struggle into my clothes. I realise I’m still drunk. My heart burns as I leave her flat.

I collapse onto the sofa with tea, toast and the Saturday tabloids. There is a piece of onion floating in my tea. I dry heave all the way back into the kitchen where I pour the liquid down the sink and flick the kettle back on.
‘What’s Britney done now?’ He’s looking at the front page of my paper, where a deranged looking Britney Spears is shown strapped to a stretcher.
‘Would you ever wash up your shite properly, Tone?’ I wave the mug at him.
He scratches his forehead with a dirty fingernail, ‘Eh? Oh, yeah. Sure. Sorry, mate.’
Tony is poorly house trained. He sits on the breakfast bar and I hope he’s wearing pants under that threadbare dressing gown.
‘You didn’t come to the party last night.’
At ten o’clock last night I’d had every intention of joining my friends at Kelly’s party. But then she’d shown up in the bar, as I’d hoped she would, drunk and happy. She likes me when she’s drunk and happy, so I stalk the bars near her office of a Friday night, waiting for her to arrive, drunk and happy.
‘Did I miss anything?’
Tony smiles, ‘Nothing you’ve not witnessed before.’
I make us tea, in rinsed mugs, and go back to my toast and tabloids. As I exit the kitchen Tony gives me details of another party happening tonight.

Kings of Leon blast into my ears as I walk along Tottenham Court Road. I could get the bus, or the tube, but the weather is mild and I fancy a walk. The last of the Saturday shoppers trudge alongside me looking tired, while crowds of people on their way to bars and pubs and clubs walk in the opposite direction, towards Oxford Street and Soho.
By the time I reach Camden my feet ache and I’m sweating slightly. Kids stand outside pubs smoking. Men in parkas try and press club flyers into my hand. I keep walking towards the Lock. A group of men wearing skinny jeans and top hats pass me. I fucking hate Camden. At an off license I buy a bottle of vodka and six cans of lager for a fiver.
The front door to the party is closed. The music so loud no one responds to my banging. I call five different people, who all fail to answer their phones. I lean my back against the door and send a text message to everyone I know in attendance to open the fucking door. Just as I hit send someone finally does, and I fall backwards into them.
‘Jesus Christ,’ I mutter. Hot Chip is playing. I like this song, I think to myself. A girl is smirking at me. ‘Hi,’ I smile.

Ophiel · #24 11-06-2008, 06:47 PM

I wrote this in about a minute at work. It was going to be the first part of the Story Thread.

Quote:

Originally Posted by Ophiel is a sex kitten

It is a truth, universally acknowledged, that a single man, in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.
At least, that's one theory. But for Richard Cunnigham, just the boring side of six foot, just the wrong side of graduation from some near-anonymous former polytechnic, inexplicably in possession of a disposable income equivalent to the GDP of a third world nation and ill at ease in his recently purchased assymetric haircut, giving a piece of whoremarked ass a damn good slotting behind the overflowing Sulo bins at the rear of the horribly trendy indie bar known as The Reichstag would more than suffice.

Duchess · #25 11-06-2008, 06:50 PM

OMG Ophiel! You're like...a modern day....Dickens!

Duchess · #26 11-06-2008, 06:54 PM

Actually, I've discovered I can totally write books all day. I mean. None of them are impressive or original but it's...kind of fun. I'm going to write another bollocks novel opening Right NOW.

Ophiel · #27 11-06-2008, 07:06 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Duchess

OMG Ophiel! You're like...a modern day....Dickens!

I'm pretty good. The worst part is, that was me trying to channel the spirit of Dylan Thomas. As in, I just try and imagine his voice coming out of my mouth, and write what I'd use it to say. Hence the 100-word sentences.

kesh · #28 11-06-2008, 07:08 PM

dickens never called anyone richard cunningham, rentwinch chadband maybe.

mansfield park is set in northampton isn't it? maybe update that one

Quote:

Originally Posted by Steve Austen

About thirty years ago Miss Indie Twink, of Huntingdon, with only seven thousand pounds, had the good luck to captivate Sir Ophiel Ophiuci, of Mansfield Park, in the county of Northampton

i'm going to eat this omelette and go to bed

Duchess · #29 11-06-2008, 07:10 PM

My new opening features LOVE MAKING COCKROACHES.

Ophiel · #30 11-06-2008, 07:26 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by kesh

dickens never called anyone richard cunningham, rentwinch chadband maybe.

It was Richey Cunnigham before I changed it. I literally couldn't think of a better name than that.

Quote:

Originally Posted by kesh

mansfield park is set in northampton isn't it? maybe update that one

Haha, not that I'm aware of! I would've thought I'd have heard about it if it was, there's not much that's interesting about this place and we tend to milk it.

Maybe you're confusing Mansfield Park with the movie Kinky Boots?

kesh · #31 11-06-2008, 07:31 PM

definitely northamptonshire, i didn't change that bit

Ophiel · #32 11-06-2008, 07:35 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Duchess

My new opening features LOVE MAKING COCKROACHES.

Lol this sounds like it's about your BAGINA!

Champers · #33 11-06-2008, 08:01 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Ophiel

Can we make it a rule that anyone from KR making a submission has to include Ramon as a semi-major character? I just want to confuse the shit out of the judges.

This is duly inspiring me to create a J. Randy Taraborelli-esque unauthorised biography. I have two working titles:

"The Golden Frog"

or

"Catamite Mouse (Ramon, we hardly knew ye)"

The synopsis: a comic account of a fey young man coming to terms with his sexuality by living vicariously through the experiences of "tragic" female icons. Take a smidgen of "Prozac Nation" with a healthy dollop of "Myra Breckenridge" and "Jack MacFarlane" for good measure and you too can inhabit the wild and wacky world of Ramon....

EXCERPT: "Whilst perched upon the stool waiting for his latte to arrive, Ramon haughtily surveyed his surrounds, feeling not unlike Lana Turner amidst the hoi polloi. Motioning for the barrista to bring the coffee to him, Ramon's hands flapped excitedly, nay, animatedly, almost as if he were conveying international distress signals, Vogueing, or quite possibly both...."

kesh · #34 11-06-2008, 08:11 PM

only a marquez or an allende could adequately chronicle how ramon's once great family fell into ruin

bort · #35 11-07-2008, 01:15 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Ophiel

Yeah, like every other fucker on the planet I've been trying to write a novel forever. I suck at it because I have only vague plots in mind. I can write well, just can't stick to a subject for any length of time and get pissed off with what I've written almost immediately.

I've been meaning to forever, and I've now written more than ever. Third period today I was supervising withdrawal and there were no bad kids, so in 50 minutes I churned out 2016 words. Hot.

Quote:

Originally Posted by Ophiel

I've now checked the link and realised I don't get it at all. However, if bort wants me to co-write his novel with him to make up for lost time, I'd be down with that.

Nah, I can do it on my own. Badly.

Vague plot so far: lethargic guy decides to go for a walk, finds spark in life after all, kicks some guy up the arse, decides to go to some other city and live out his "Where The Day Takes You" fantasies. But the truth will be stranger, and harder, than fiction.

Ophiel · #36 11-07-2008, 04:05 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by kesh

only a marquez or an allende could adequately chronicle how ramon's once great family fell into ruin

More like a de Cervantes.

Ophiel · #37 11-07-2008, 04:11 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Champers

This is duly inspiring me to create a J. Randy Taraborelli-esque unauthorised biography. I have two working titles:

"The Golden Frog"

or

"Catamite Mouse (Ramon, we hardly knew ye)"

The synopsis: a comic account of a fey young man coming to terms with his sexuality by living vicariously through the experiences of "tragic" female icons. Take a smidgen of "Prozac Nation" with a healthy dollop of "Myra Breckenridge" and "Jack MacFarlane" for good measure and you too can inhabit the wild and wacky world of Ramon....

EXCERPT: "Whilst perched upon the stool waiting for his latte to arrive, Ramon haughtily surveyed his surrounds, feeling not unlike Lana Turner amidst the hoi polloi. Motioning for the barrista to bring the coffee to him, Ramon's hands flapped excitedly, nay, animatedly, almost as if he were conveying international distress signals, Vogueing, or quite possibly both...."

It's not bad, but you go too long without mentioning a famous (ideally dead) starlet. Like, seriously, 34 words at the end there and not one mention of Norma J!

bort · #38 11-07-2008, 04:29 AM

Well, my first 24 hours yielded 6334 words, which I was happy with. I've almost caught up! It's a bit light on incident though. It's sort of a boring travelogue. Oh well.