Results of National Novel Writing Month 2007

Yesterday was the last day of the National Novel Writing Month. Many people, myself included, attempted to hack out the entire rough draft of a novel out in the space of a month--fifty thousand words worth of writing in thirty days. Some people succeeded; I was not one of them.

Yet while I did not reach my goal, I do consider last month’s effort (on my part) to be a success. I finished closer to the goal than I have ever came before. I ended up writing 41443 words to be exact. More if you count the amount of wordage I wrote last month on the various term papers I ended up completely.

If I could have gotten all the writing I did to go all in the same direction, I would have crossed the line this time. Unfortunately, term paper season ate me alive. In the end, I wrote over ten thousand words spread over a couple of papers--so far, one of them has turned out to be an A, still awaiting further grades to be reported.

And I consider parts of the rough draft that I wrote to be useable; or at least, parts will be usable after some revisions. Whether or not, it turns out to be a novel or just a short story (or perhaps a novella) will depend a lot on what can be fixed.

As always, this writing project was a learning experience for me. What I learned this project was the strange things that occur to me when I am trying to make an idea fix into a novel. Perhaps some of the strange ideas are good, I need to let the story sit awhile before judging parts of it. Then again, I have to finish a dozen scenes before it can be set to rest for awhile--as I said term paper season was a conflict with National Novel Writing Month. But I should have those scenes written by the first of the year--at least, I can say that I wrote the rough draft of an entire novel this year; and that makes me a winner despite not hitting the goal of fifty thousand words in thirty days.

Another thing I learned was that I can still surprise myself. At the end of this long stretch of writing, I find myself busy outlining another novel. That surprised me, I figured that I would not want to look at the keyboard for a good month afterwards; instead I find myself working on my next novel already.

For many, this will not be a surprise. In my case, it is. Sometimes, I forgot that I am a real writer. If nothing else, this last month was a good reminder that despite the expectations of those people around me, and society in general, that at heart, I am best at being a writer.

So here is to the end of National Novel Writing Month, while I did not write enough to make the goal, I am still happy with my results--and here is to next November, when I get to do it all over again.

Excerpt from Death on Mars

As I stared at the candle, I tried to come to a reason for the existence of crime. From a kabbalistic viewpoint, or at least one school of it, crime was merely the repaying of debts from past lives. I couldn’t imagine what I did to deserve being almost killed in a hull breach, or how the people of an entire colony could be guilty of something that would warrant repayment in the form of missing supplies. And what did the Director do in a past life that he deserved to have his head bashed in during this one? I wasn’t sure that I believed in the theory much, it sounded too much like the Eastern concept of karma. I have struggled with it for years.

Once back on Earth, I had been in a burger joint. You know the type of places where the goal is to get you in and out as quickly as possible. In hindsight, I shouldn’t have been surprised about what happened; after all it was a bad neighborhood, being right next door to the parole office. I had brought my burger and drink, and one of the people in the next line asked me if I had a dollar to spare. I told him no, but he could have the loose change I just got back. We both drifted over to the pickup area. “Thanks, I just got out of jail,” the black man told me. I shrugged my shoulders and went back to reading the kabbalistic text that I was studying. The server called an order exactly like the one I ordered, and the black man said it was his. I wondered if he was lying. But I figured it was possible that he ordered the exact same thing; after all, I had paid absolutely no attention to what he had ordered. I waited, and learned that he had taken mine, for when the rest of the orders were handed out, there was only me waiting. The shlepper had stolen my burger. I offered to pay for another one; the server replaced my order, but told me to make sure that I spoke up the next time.

For many hours afterwards, I wondered what I did in a past life that the theft of a burger and drink, and a handful of change, could make right. In the end, I could think of nothing. Possibly, it was just a senseless event without any mystical meaning whatsoever.

And the breach and the murder of Director Robinson were probably also meaningless. God knows that I am not enlightened enough to came up with a spiritual reason for the events. I am not sure anyone could.

So barring any mystical revelation, I mediated on the possible mundane reasons for crime. Greed was obviously the sin behind the missing supplies; the breach was just a rather extreme way of covering it up.

If the Director’s death was tied into that, then I knew the motive for his murder. If it was an unconnected crime which I doubted, then there was all the emotional sins--envy, jealousy, lust, rage; it was a rather long list. I would have to check them out, but I was positive that the Director’s death tied into the breach and the missing supplies.

Excerpt from Death on Mars

“Death was common on the first extraterrestrial colonies of man. The colonists and the crews of the pod ships grew so accustomed to it that they got to the point where they barely noticed it. Besides, the bodies of the dead were promptly disposed of in a manner that earlier civilizations would have objected to. Given the lack of organic material on the colonies, and the expense of shipping the bodies back to earth, the dead started to be looked upon as a viable source of organic material for the budding eco-gardens that were the heart of the new colonies. Basically, the colonists decided that the dead were good compost, something that would have appalled previous civilizations.”

--Chapter 13 (Composting the Dead). Life and Death Among the Stars--The Starfaring Citizen’s Guide to the Ethics of Life and Death. S.L. Spokane.

Excerpt from Death on Mars

Looking around the office, I had to admit to myself that I had no the slightest clue where to begin. Well, I knew that I was looking for clues. Having a thought, I looked at Patrica.

“What were the results of the DNA tests?”

Patrica choked. “We didn’t do any.”

“Why not?” I asked feeling brilliant.

“Because we don’t have the equipment to conduct such a test.”

My heart sunk.

“Why not?”

“My guess is that they didn’t think that we needed a test kit for DNA. The same thing goes for fingerprints. Who would have guessed that someone would get killed on Mars?”

“Hmm, there is that,” I admitted.

“If you don’t mind, I can see that you have this under control, and I got a lot of work to do, so if you don’t mind…”

“No problem,” I said.

Actually there was a problem, but I really didn’t want any witnesses to watch as I struggled with it--quite honestly, I had no idea how to solve a murder.

Day Two

So I completed 1769 words yesterday, if I can maintain that pace I will actually complete 50,000 words this month. I am just a touch behind where I should be at this point. 107 words to be exact. That is based on the word count that my Neo coughs up, which is slightly different than what Word gives me. It doesn't really matter; Word says I have fifteen words more.

So yesterday, I ended up with my first borderline sex scene. It didn't develop into one, or rather I started it after sex and faded to black before more sex occurred. Was it a necessary scene? I am not sure.

It is not like I am writing back in the fifties. Today, we just presume people are having sex. And it did gave the reader more information about the characters, three of which have yet to be introduced.

Of course, that brings up a problem. According to the "How To Write A Mystery" books I have read, people are supposed to know and care about the person that got whacked. I am not even sure that I agree with that, and considering that I am writing this story in first person and he never meets the victim, I am not sure how to do that.

Oh well, this is just the first draft. I can figure out how to fix that later.

Not a sex scene, but close--excerpt from Death on Mars

“I knew him,” Lucy said.

Running my fingers down her neck, I asked, “Who?”

“Tim, Director Robinson,” she said. “I served with him on Mars a couple of runs ago.”

“What was he like?” I asked.

“Passionate,” she said. I must have cringed for she quickly added, “Not like that. Well, like that also, but I mean that he was very passionate about the possibilities that Mars had to offer mankind.”

I nodded.

“So what happened?” she asked.

“He died,” I answered.”

“Sparky, I already know that. What I don’t know is how?”

“I am not sure,” I paused. “It might have been an accident.”

“Right,” Lucy sat up. “So why did they need to create a law enforcement branch if that was the case?”

I traced a gaggle of goose in her freckles flying in a giant V south. “To be on the safe side.”
“You are a terrible liar. There have been accidents on Mars before and they have never felt the need to invest someone with a badge. What is different this time?”

“He was the Director of the whole Mars colony; the Agency probably just wants to ensure the public that everything possible is being done to ensure the safety of the colony.”

“Not good enough, your average Joe could care less about Mars. Unless you have a relative on Mars, you don’t care about the people on Mars. And a decade ago, this would have been a cry to bring our people home. Nowadays, no one believes that the Agency gives a damn about public opinion. So what is the real reason?”

I sighed, “They, the Agency, believes that there may have been foul play involved.”

“He was murdered?”

“Perhaps, I won’t know until we get there.” I shook my head. “If I am capable of figuring it out, that is. Why don’t they just send a real investigator?”

Lucy closed her eyes; I watched her lips move as she quickly calculated. “They would have to wait another three years, one month and seventeen days, even if there was an investigator willing to join the Colonization Service.”

“That still doesn’t explain why me.”

“Simple, we are just three weeks away. And they figure given your lack of charm that you are not going to make any friends.” She looked at me. “Oh my god, that is why they picked you, isn’t it?”

“They said it was because it was my first tour on Mars, so that I would be the least likely to be biased.”

“Honey, I love you. But I suspect that they read your jacket, you are not the most social animal around. Heavens knows that I would have never given your anti-social ass a second look if I wouldn’t have been cooped up with you for two years.”

“You could have always hooked up with one of the other crew members.”

“Like who? Harris is married to his dissertation. And the twins are happier with one another than they ever would be with me, besides I find a man to be more fulfilling than a woman.”

“So you are with me just because I am the only available man?”

“That is right. What are you going to do about it?”

I pulled her down, and kissed her hard on the lips. A laugh escaped her lips, before she dragged me closer. Lucy was a big talker, but she knew that she was mine. At least, for the moment.

Excerpts from Death On Mars

“The human race, as they left their ancestral home, took all that they were with them. All their virtues and vices, they transplanted to the stars. It just a shame that like cockroaches, they had more vices than virtues.”
--Black Badger Woman, Twenty-second century philosopher

“Mankind hoped that crime would not exist as they moved out into space. It took them awhile to realize that crime had its roots in human nature. Much to their horror, they realized that they needed law enforcement in the far reaches of space.”
--“:The Early Years of the Star Cops.”

“For years, it puzzled me where the term ‘Star Cops’ came from. It hardly seemed reasonable that mankind would willingly choose such a term. Finally, I traced it down to a journalist, who was also a reader of that prophetic type of fiction that was called science fiction. One of their forgotten entertainment programs was called ‘Star Cops.’ As a joke, he had referred to the High Justice Corps by this forgotten reference, and it stuck. Ironically, he fulfilled the very prediction that was made by the prophecy.”
--“:The Early Years of the Star Cops.”