when i say my writing group is doing an unaffiliated writing month, i mean to say only my husband and i are, because the world is lousy with sluggy-ass slugheads. i like to have consideration but it gets my goat a lil. i can do some on this hand on that hand -ness…
on one hand, if i can try to write a novel in a month, why can’t the rest of those bums? i’m workin’ full time in the ugh factory.
on the other hand, i may be creativities georg the outlier who should not have been counted.
on the other other hand, my husband is too, and surely there wouldn’t be two creativities georgs.
on the other other other hand, these people have all succeeded at novel months in the past. what are the odds they’d all be so enfeebled now?
on the other other other other hand
my own husband is a good example of a person becoming progressively more disabled, which seems to be a recurring theme among like every art person i know, like wtf, is art like a slow-burning cancer.
on the other other other other other hand, my husband is one of the people who is noveling this month, already hit 50k words and is now just aiming for completion of the story with no specified word count goal.
on the other other other other other other hand, i can believe there is a sort of pandemic of distraction, demoralization, or something, that is oppressing the masses, making us less capable than we used to be.
on the other other other other other other other hand, what is it, truly? it’s real hard for me to imagine there’s a decent excuse for how slugheaded the world has become. you don’t think i’d rather be vegging out, watching tv shows, sleeping every chance i get? if i did that, life would pass me by.
anyway, this is detracting from time i can be writing so i’m leaving now. point is, i know i’m better than most at this, but i shouldn’t be. come correct, ye sluggardly masses. you princes of new york.
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I think the world is conspiring to make people less capable than they used to be…and many people are embracing their own pointlessness and actively participating in their own self-rotting. Good for you two for writing your own novel.
I just finished reading a novel about a writing retreat, helpfully named The Writing Retreat. A group of five women authors gather at the mansion of a fabulously famous woman author. Things go off the rails very quickly and creatively. I’m pretty sure the author was struggling to finish a novel when she got the idea for this book.
how did she stick the landing? was it decent, or did it look like she had no ideas by the end?
maybe i shoulda called it nosotrowrimo, was feeliin alienated tho lol
There are a lot of twists and turns in that book–for most of it, the women are busy wondering who is friend and who is foe. Everyone eventually figures out the host is bad, but the host mixes bad and good and they never know which version of her they’re dealing with. The main character has her own flaws, as does her ex-roommate. People are messy. One of the themes is writer’s block and various strategies to overcome it. Another is blind hero worship and parasocial relationships: the aspiring authors do not actually know their host despite what they believe. Another theme is survival–people against each other, people against the elements (in this case, a snowstorm that traps help from getting in), etc. Yet another theme is how hard it is to become a published author even if the writing is great.
How’s your writing going?
sounds like the author actually pulled it off. there are so many books, even ones with great starts, that don’t stick the landing. good jorb.
i’m havin a hard time because everyone in my household is sick again. it’s hitting us different individually. i mostly have fever and lethargy, my husband can’t speak, his mom coughing worse than usual at night so she doesn’t sleep enough… whatever.