Score!

Nov. 22nd, 2005 09:07 pm
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (NaNo Red)
Zokutou word meter
50,024 / 50,000
(100.0%)


Second-time NaNoWriMo champion, right here. A week and some early, no less! The story's only half done, but I made the official NaNo word count!

*collapses*

Score!

Nov. 22nd, 2005 09:07 pm
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (NaNo Red)
Zokutou word meter
50,024 / 50,000
(100.0%)


Second-time NaNoWriMo champion, right here. A week and some early, no less! The story's only half done, but I made the official NaNo word count!

*collapses*
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Default)
Word count as of this morning: 31,018.

That's sixty percent done. I'll make you look at the word meter later. Because I'm a sadist like that.

Aaand in other news, Friday was the monthly convocation of geeks and gluttony. I was bitching about the cons of not being able to read aloud, but I feel obligated at this point to remind everyone that there are pros as well; the biggest one is that sometimes, just sometimes, you get to hear some really first-rate stories. And everything read on Friday was a heck of a lot of fun. The kind of night that makes me glad I didn't bring anything.

And on Friday, [livejournal.com profile] spacezombie contributed to the downfall of Western Civilization by providing me with a tool for evil: our Christmas present. A region-free DVD player that can also make sense out of video clips and mp3s. My gratitude will have a high body count, I guarantee it.

I can now play all my internet porn clips on my TV, AHAHAHAHA!!!, and FINALLY watch my prized pirate copies of that Tarzan show with Travis Fimmel that got canceled after only 8 episodes. I have yet to determine if it was a good show or a bad show. I couldn't tell you if he can act. I'm too busy looking at him and wondering how the fuck someone so seraphically gorgeous can possibly be a member of the same species as, say, Nicholas Cage, who looks like his DNA has been combined with that of a katydid.

Anyway, this is all to [livejournal.com profile] spacezombie's advantage, as the longer I spend in front of the TV the faster I will be done with his birthday present. Which I hope he likes, because I think it's pretty damn cool, myself.

So, yes, I spent this weekend in an orgy of Brisco County, Jr. and Justice League episodes, with a heaping topper of Ioan Gruffudd. Yeeeah. Guess what came in the mail last week, prompting gusty shrieks of delight? The Horatio Hornblower super-duper-extreme-ultra-special edition boxed set, complete with *dies* interview footage where he's making no effort to suppress his Welsh accent.

This is the part where I fangirl relentlessly. )

I think I'm done fangirling now, though I could be wrong.

I keep promising BPAL reviews and I will put them up, I've just been re-testing a few scents to see what I think of them on a second run. It's amazing how complex perfumery is. Often I'll get a sniff of something and have no idea what it is I'm smelling, or how to describe it. I have to go rooting around, trying to ferret out individual notes. It's wild.

I will profess an undying (heh) love for Zombi, as well as major, major lust for Iago. I see big bottles of both of those in my future, unless I find another rose blend I like better, or something else leather-based that flips my skirt up. Morocco, Scherezade, and The Lion are also beautiful, in a spicy/amber sort of way.

Anyway, enough of my blather. I threatened you with it, so here it is. Behold my word meter.

Zokutou word meterZokutou word meter
31,018 / 50,000
(62.0%)
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Default)
Word count as of this morning: 31,018.

That's sixty percent done. I'll make you look at the word meter later. Because I'm a sadist like that.

Aaand in other news, Friday was the monthly convocation of geeks and gluttony. I was bitching about the cons of not being able to read aloud, but I feel obligated at this point to remind everyone that there are pros as well; the biggest one is that sometimes, just sometimes, you get to hear some really first-rate stories. And everything read on Friday was a heck of a lot of fun. The kind of night that makes me glad I didn't bring anything.

And on Friday, [livejournal.com profile] spacezombie contributed to the downfall of Western Civilization by providing me with a tool for evil: our Christmas present. A region-free DVD player that can also make sense out of video clips and mp3s. My gratitude will have a high body count, I guarantee it.

I can now play all my internet porn clips on my TV, AHAHAHAHA!!!, and FINALLY watch my prized pirate copies of that Tarzan show with Travis Fimmel that got canceled after only 8 episodes. I have yet to determine if it was a good show or a bad show. I couldn't tell you if he can act. I'm too busy looking at him and wondering how the fuck someone so seraphically gorgeous can possibly be a member of the same species as, say, Nicholas Cage, who looks like his DNA has been combined with that of a katydid.

Anyway, this is all to [livejournal.com profile] spacezombie's advantage, as the longer I spend in front of the TV the faster I will be done with his birthday present. Which I hope he likes, because I think it's pretty damn cool, myself.

So, yes, I spent this weekend in an orgy of Brisco County, Jr. and Justice League episodes, with a heaping topper of Ioan Gruffudd. Yeeeah. Guess what came in the mail last week, prompting gusty shrieks of delight? The Horatio Hornblower super-duper-extreme-ultra-special edition boxed set, complete with *dies* interview footage where he's making no effort to suppress his Welsh accent.

This is the part where I fangirl relentlessly. )

I think I'm done fangirling now, though I could be wrong.

I keep promising BPAL reviews and I will put them up, I've just been re-testing a few scents to see what I think of them on a second run. It's amazing how complex perfumery is. Often I'll get a sniff of something and have no idea what it is I'm smelling, or how to describe it. I have to go rooting around, trying to ferret out individual notes. It's wild.

I will profess an undying (heh) love for Zombi, as well as major, major lust for Iago. I see big bottles of both of those in my future, unless I find another rose blend I like better, or something else leather-based that flips my skirt up. Morocco, Scherezade, and The Lion are also beautiful, in a spicy/amber sort of way.

Anyway, enough of my blather. I threatened you with it, so here it is. Behold my word meter.

Zokutou word meterZokutou word meter
31,018 / 50,000
(62.0%)
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (NaNo Monkeys)
Yes, tomorrow is the monthly night of lies and snacking for the brave members of the OSFW.

You know, there is only one downside of having both A) an unquenchable lust to write really shitty porn and occasional quality erotica and B) a writers' group where we regularly gather to share excerpts of our work.

I can't read aloud. A full 98% of what I write is gratuitous porn, and the non-porny parts are still cheesy and overwrought as all get-out. There's the non-porn pulp adventure, but I always get halfway through reading a chapter and feel like everyone hates it. Besides. What's the point of reading 1/24 of something when you'll never be able to work through the whole thing? So I haven't actually, you know, read anything in . . . a year? Longer? I feel all frustrated, and there really isn't a solution for it except A) reading anyway or B) shutting the hell up.

There's always C) write something that doesn't involve gangbangs, swordfights, and pirates with +10 vorpal paddles; but on a scale of one to ten where one rates a "Ha ha!" and ten merits dying of a fit, the idea of actually restraining myself (as opposed to having someone do it for me) is stupid enough to merit an eleven. So I'm going with B.

I just thought I should point out one of the few really shitty things about being a pornographer. Like when someone asks what you do, and you answer them honestly, and they look at you like you're some kind of freak. Like you're about to test out your latest idea on them, personally. Because all erotica writers, don't you know, write only about A) things they've done and B) people they know. Sometimes C) things they've done to people they know. Imagination? Never enters into the equation. We're drooling sex maniacs, every one of us, and the only thing keeping us from pinning random people down and performing freaky sexperiments on them are leash laws. And sometimes, not even that.

I sort-of apologize to everyone for not posting more often the past two weeks. NaNo is really taking the skin off my pudding, if you know what I mean, and what's left is all formless and gooey and sort of evil-smelling. I'll be back to my normal bitchy, profane self once I've finished this horsefucker of a novel, and will hopefully have something intelligent to say besides "Plan? Zog no have plan!" I realize I've been horribly remiss with comments/email/dishes/grooming. I hope it takes the sting out to realize that, all life-drama bullshit aside, I've been having a really good time writing about my Mary Sue and my reluctant hero, and that's what really matters.

In brief life-drama bullshit update: family stuff was supposed to go down last week, with people coming in to see us and me going out to see other people. It got delayed until around Thanksgiving, which is a mixed blessing. I put off some things I wanted to do, thinking stuff was going to happen on a different, mythical schedule, which means I didn't get to do any of what I'd planned. On the other hand, I had the whole week free to do whatever else I wanted. And, gee, could I possibly vague that up for you any more?

Moving on, stay tuned for a whole swampload of BPAL reviews -- because this is my journal and I can inflict all kinds of weird shit on you without excuse, warning, or apology. I've been dabbing and sniffing for days now, and have skin-tested a baker's dozen of tantalizing scents. So far, we have two that have made me beg for mercy -- one in an unspeakably good way, and one in a very, very, very bad way.

And until then, you can just stare at this little meter. Staaare at it. Ooooo! Isn't it pretty? Every one of those fracking words was a word laboriously dragged out of my ass on barbed wire. ADMIRE IT. They are perfect pearls, inspired by God himself. This is intelligent fucking design at work, people. Everyone else's novels? Evolved from monkeys (see icon). Do they have talking foxes with better fashion sense than a highly-trained and coordinated team of gay Bohemian window-dressers? Hunky guard captains on blind dates from Hell? Mercenaries hung like mountain ponies? Perfectly-aimed cheese tarts? I don't think so.

Zokutou word meterZokutou word meter
23,422 / 50,000
(46.8%)


And a very happy birthday to [livejournal.com profile] kittyblue. =^_^=

I wish I had, you know, lots and lots of money, and could come all the way over there to take you to lunch where we would hire attractive male strippers to let us lick powdered chocolate from their pectoral muscles, but, alas, you'll have to settle for a silly dance from afar.

*hugs*
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (NaNo Monkeys)
Yes, tomorrow is the monthly night of lies and snacking for the brave members of the OSFW.

You know, there is only one downside of having both A) an unquenchable lust to write really shitty porn and occasional quality erotica and B) a writers' group where we regularly gather to share excerpts of our work.

I can't read aloud. A full 98% of what I write is gratuitous porn, and the non-porny parts are still cheesy and overwrought as all get-out. There's the non-porn pulp adventure, but I always get halfway through reading a chapter and feel like everyone hates it. Besides. What's the point of reading 1/24 of something when you'll never be able to work through the whole thing? So I haven't actually, you know, read anything in . . . a year? Longer? I feel all frustrated, and there really isn't a solution for it except A) reading anyway or B) shutting the hell up.

There's always C) write something that doesn't involve gangbangs, swordfights, and pirates with +10 vorpal paddles; but on a scale of one to ten where one rates a "Ha ha!" and ten merits dying of a fit, the idea of actually restraining myself (as opposed to having someone do it for me) is stupid enough to merit an eleven. So I'm going with B.

I just thought I should point out one of the few really shitty things about being a pornographer. Like when someone asks what you do, and you answer them honestly, and they look at you like you're some kind of freak. Like you're about to test out your latest idea on them, personally. Because all erotica writers, don't you know, write only about A) things they've done and B) people they know. Sometimes C) things they've done to people they know. Imagination? Never enters into the equation. We're drooling sex maniacs, every one of us, and the only thing keeping us from pinning random people down and performing freaky sexperiments on them are leash laws. And sometimes, not even that.

I sort-of apologize to everyone for not posting more often the past two weeks. NaNo is really taking the skin off my pudding, if you know what I mean, and what's left is all formless and gooey and sort of evil-smelling. I'll be back to my normal bitchy, profane self once I've finished this horsefucker of a novel, and will hopefully have something intelligent to say besides "Plan? Zog no have plan!" I realize I've been horribly remiss with comments/email/dishes/grooming. I hope it takes the sting out to realize that, all life-drama bullshit aside, I've been having a really good time writing about my Mary Sue and my reluctant hero, and that's what really matters.

In brief life-drama bullshit update: family stuff was supposed to go down last week, with people coming in to see us and me going out to see other people. It got delayed until around Thanksgiving, which is a mixed blessing. I put off some things I wanted to do, thinking stuff was going to happen on a different, mythical schedule, which means I didn't get to do any of what I'd planned. On the other hand, I had the whole week free to do whatever else I wanted. And, gee, could I possibly vague that up for you any more?

Moving on, stay tuned for a whole swampload of BPAL reviews -- because this is my journal and I can inflict all kinds of weird shit on you without excuse, warning, or apology. I've been dabbing and sniffing for days now, and have skin-tested a baker's dozen of tantalizing scents. So far, we have two that have made me beg for mercy -- one in an unspeakably good way, and one in a very, very, very bad way.

And until then, you can just stare at this little meter. Staaare at it. Ooooo! Isn't it pretty? Every one of those fracking words was a word laboriously dragged out of my ass on barbed wire. ADMIRE IT. They are perfect pearls, inspired by God himself. This is intelligent fucking design at work, people. Everyone else's novels? Evolved from monkeys (see icon). Do they have talking foxes with better fashion sense than a highly-trained and coordinated team of gay Bohemian window-dressers? Hunky guard captains on blind dates from Hell? Mercenaries hung like mountain ponies? Perfectly-aimed cheese tarts? I don't think so.

Zokutou word meterZokutou word meter
23,422 / 50,000
(46.8%)


And a very happy birthday to [livejournal.com profile] kittyblue. =^_^=

I wish I had, you know, lots and lots of money, and could come all the way over there to take you to lunch where we would hire attractive male strippers to let us lick powdered chocolate from their pectoral muscles, but, alas, you'll have to settle for a silly dance from afar.

*hugs*
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (NaNo Red)
Okay. I realize that porn is, essentially, written primarily for an audience of one: the writer. If the author of the smut ain't gettin' turned on, ain't nobody gettin' turned on.

But for the love of all that is holy, do my predilections have to be so fucking laughably obvious? I swore to myself this was going to be a love story: sweet, straightforward, and simple, with only enough bondage and coercion to allow Our Dashing Hero to rescue Our Heroine at the dramatically appropriate moment. 17,000 words in (which is really, really late to have the sex just starting, by the way) and I realize that though I have sworn not to include any pirates in a plotline-affecting capacity, I am suddenly inundated with something almost as good: mercenaries. Which are like bandits, which are like pirates without a boat.

I swore I would not repeat myself, yet who is my Mary-Sue the girl going to use to relieve herself of her virginity?

The mercenary captain.

Well, color me fucking shocked here, people.

Actually, color me disgusted. That doesn't clash as badly with "ravished red" and "just-spanked pink."

I've stopped surprising myself. And when I quit doing that, I quit enjoying it as much.
Don't get me wrong, I have no desire to change things on the run like this, and the plot is actually quite fun, I'm just frustrated with myself. I have yet to write porn without a hunky bad guy. This one is a little sterner, a little meaner, but he's still very dashing, you know, and would just look great in the outfit-plus-scars ensemble. The big swordfight at the end? I want to write that scene right now.

Good God, people. What the Hell is wrong with me? I would have sworn my villain problem wasn't this bad. Next time, I'm going to give up and write the most self-indulgent bondage-riddled pirate porn imaginable. Maybe then I can write something without pirates in it!

Ugh. If it was supposed to be good, it wouldn't be NaNo, would it?

Belay the starboard wenches and slosh me with grog! It appears we be a third of the way through!

Zokutou word meterZokutou word meter
17,315 / 50,000
(34.6%)
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (NaNo Red)
Okay. I realize that porn is, essentially, written primarily for an audience of one: the writer. If the author of the smut ain't gettin' turned on, ain't nobody gettin' turned on.

But for the love of all that is holy, do my predilections have to be so fucking laughably obvious? I swore to myself this was going to be a love story: sweet, straightforward, and simple, with only enough bondage and coercion to allow Our Dashing Hero to rescue Our Heroine at the dramatically appropriate moment. 17,000 words in (which is really, really late to have the sex just starting, by the way) and I realize that though I have sworn not to include any pirates in a plotline-affecting capacity, I am suddenly inundated with something almost as good: mercenaries. Which are like bandits, which are like pirates without a boat.

I swore I would not repeat myself, yet who is my Mary-Sue the girl going to use to relieve herself of her virginity?

The mercenary captain.

Well, color me fucking shocked here, people.

Actually, color me disgusted. That doesn't clash as badly with "ravished red" and "just-spanked pink."

I've stopped surprising myself. And when I quit doing that, I quit enjoying it as much.
Don't get me wrong, I have no desire to change things on the run like this, and the plot is actually quite fun, I'm just frustrated with myself. I have yet to write porn without a hunky bad guy. This one is a little sterner, a little meaner, but he's still very dashing, you know, and would just look great in the outfit-plus-scars ensemble. The big swordfight at the end? I want to write that scene right now.

Good God, people. What the Hell is wrong with me? I would have sworn my villain problem wasn't this bad. Next time, I'm going to give up and write the most self-indulgent bondage-riddled pirate porn imaginable. Maybe then I can write something without pirates in it!

Ugh. If it was supposed to be good, it wouldn't be NaNo, would it?

Belay the starboard wenches and slosh me with grog! It appears we be a third of the way through!

Zokutou word meterZokutou word meter
17,315 / 50,000
(34.6%)
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (NaNo Monkeys)
There is very little more boring than listening to someone talk about their writing process. I will let it suffice to say that I am still chugging along, several days ahead of where I need to be, despite regular cat interventions and rancid dog farts.

The saddest thing about this novel is that I will not be able to read excerpts of it at the writers' meetings I attend. It's porn, and it's bad porn at that. I don't think I've missed a fantasy cliché, yet. Right down to the talking animal sidekick. It's like some horrible animated movie where the beleaguered heroine flees her home, has lots of zany adventures, and breaks into sex along the way like Disney Princesses break into song. If you think for even a minute I'm going to let the group see it, you're smoking something finer than what I got.

So for lack of something more articulate and intelligent (I seem to be spending all my mental money in one place these days) I ask some questions and leave the floor to you:

For those of you trying the novel-in-a-month thing, what is your primary motivation to try something so stupid and crazy? How do you feel the novel-in-a-month theory compares to other highly compressed things, like bonsai kittens and squeez cheez? Does it make you feel good? Bad? Scared? Why are we doing this, anyway? What is your favorite plot point or irrelevant yet fun detail so far? Do you think you'll make it?

Talk among yourselves.

Zokutou word meterZokutou word meter
10,053 / 50,000
(20.1%)
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (NaNo Monkeys)
There is very little more boring than listening to someone talk about their writing process. I will let it suffice to say that I am still chugging along, several days ahead of where I need to be, despite regular cat interventions and rancid dog farts.

The saddest thing about this novel is that I will not be able to read excerpts of it at the writers' meetings I attend. It's porn, and it's bad porn at that. I don't think I've missed a fantasy cliché, yet. Right down to the talking animal sidekick. It's like some horrible animated movie where the beleaguered heroine flees her home, has lots of zany adventures, and breaks into sex along the way like Disney Princesses break into song. If you think for even a minute I'm going to let the group see it, you're smoking something finer than what I got.

So for lack of something more articulate and intelligent (I seem to be spending all my mental money in one place these days) I ask some questions and leave the floor to you:

For those of you trying the novel-in-a-month thing, what is your primary motivation to try something so stupid and crazy? How do you feel the novel-in-a-month theory compares to other highly compressed things, like bonsai kittens and squeez cheez? Does it make you feel good? Bad? Scared? Why are we doing this, anyway? What is your favorite plot point or irrelevant yet fun detail so far? Do you think you'll make it?

Talk among yourselves.

Zokutou word meterZokutou word meter
10,053 / 50,000
(20.1%)
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (NaNo Red)
Status of the current NaNoWriMo novel-in-progress:

Zokutou word meterZokutou word meter
3,236 / 50,000
(6.5%)


I started at two in the morning, and now have 3,000+ words of not-quite-porn-yet.

Not bad for a night's work! I wish I had more to say about it, but it's six o'fucking-clock and I'm so ready for bed I will kill any living thing that comes between it and me, and walk right over its bleeding corpse to get there.

The signing was hellaciously fun. A detailed post and pictures will be coming hopefully tomorrow. Until then, go and look at the pictures up on [livejournal.com profile] spacezombie's journal for one of the most hilarious pictures of me ever taken.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (NaNo Red)
Status of the current NaNoWriMo novel-in-progress:

Zokutou word meterZokutou word meter
3,236 / 50,000
(6.5%)


I started at two in the morning, and now have 3,000+ words of not-quite-porn-yet.

Not bad for a night's work! I wish I had more to say about it, but it's six o'fucking-clock and I'm so ready for bed I will kill any living thing that comes between it and me, and walk right over its bleeding corpse to get there.

The signing was hellaciously fun. A detailed post and pictures will be coming hopefully tomorrow. Until then, go and look at the pictures up on [livejournal.com profile] spacezombie's journal for one of the most hilarious pictures of me ever taken.

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