2009 NaNoWriMo – Day 4

My rabbit ears broke on Monday night, just before Media Watch. I was so peeved. I like Media Watch, it speaks to my Gen Y, inner city, capital “A” Arts supporting, anti-tabloid, self-indulgent pretensions. I’ve read the transcript but it’s not the same.

(Must get myself a copy of the 2010 Men of the ABC News Desk calendar. I understand that Tony Jones is Mr August.)

So I finished the first run through of my script instead. I’ve cut 145 pages down to 107 – that’s over 25% gone! My supe had told me it had to be under 110 and I reckoned I would slice 25 pages easily, but I was still a little shocked how easy it was to do so. I then wrote a bit more for NaNoWriMo. Finished the chapter, so that’s at least a good thing. Down on the word count but it was late and a good spot to bedwards head.

Tuesday ran the Melbourne Cup sweeps (I have it down to a fine art after all these years) and was lucky to win a second place (can’t even remember the name of the horse – it was brown). Been moved up to the Executive Assistant’s desk for the next month while (a) my boss plays Acting Director; and (b) the EA is away. Was buggered by the end of the day, and the searing temp and the FUCKED UP TRAIN SYSTEM didn’t help matters. I had to walk home.

Boss had given me a jar of her superb chutney, plus a purple cabbage the weight of a lawn bowl from the veggie patch. The chutney I gulped down on Monday night (Please don’t tell anyone but I knocked back the entire thing right there and then with a parfait spoon, I couldn’t help myself), and dined on half the cabbage Tuesday. I should do some NaNo writing, I thought to myself afterwards. So I went to bed.

Wednesday, today, I had arranged a flex so I could have the entire day to enjoy a clean read of my script and to catch up on my NaNo writing. And then I got a phone call; it was Boss. “What are we going to do about those papers for Friday’s meeting?” she said. “Shit,” I said in return. So I went in.

Home and now finished the other half of the cabbage. I must give you the recipe:

–+–

Cathryn’s Purple Cabbage Dinner Salad

• half a head of Spanish garlic, minced (that’s right – half a WHOLE head. Always go for Spanish as it’s not bleached and a lot tastier)
• olive oil
• bacon (I had 150g of rindless from the deli)
• pepper
• a good dollop of butter (I reckon I used somewhere between 50-100g. Now THAT’s a good dollop)
• half a purple cabbage, preferably from your Manager, sliced thinly
• 100g walnuts
• croutons

Fry up the minced garlic in the oil, then add the bacon. Fry that up too for a bit. Add some pepper, then the butter. Stick the lid on, let that sauté till you’ve done whatever it was that you were doing in the other room.

Add the cabbage and stir through. Cook for a bit, letting it wilt, with the lid on, giving the occasional stir. Then add the walnuts, stir through and give it another minute or two.

When ready, add the croutons and stir through again. Dump on a plate if using as a side dish, or in a bowl if that’s the whole meal. Enjoy, preferably with a glass of something.

–+–

Incidentally, yes, I am procrastinating. I could read through the script but I’ve made up my mind not to do that till Saturday – the break will help me re-evaluate. There is one scene which I’ve had a thought about and want to re-write fully (got to get a way for the window to develop a fracture) but I might do that tomorrow night. I could finish listening to the second act of The Pirates of Penzance (Tarantara! Tarantara!), or… well, there’s a hundred other things. Already worked out my Ikea shopping list. Socks are all rolled. Email mailing lists cleared. I could do the dishes but I’m not that desperate.

Oh well, it looks like it’s come down to just doing some writing.

Thanks to Caffeinated Bliss for the word count utility.

2009 NaNoWriMo – Day 1

November, not only hathing 30 days and being the month of Movember, which I’m not doing this year considering I’m already sprouting a moustache that makes me look like the humanoid version of PT Flea, is also NaNoWriMo – National Novel Writing Month. The concept is, in only the space of 30 days, to produce a 50,000-word first draft novel. This works out to 1,667 words a day. Not an unreachable amount admittedly, but over 30 days indeed a daunting task. And to make it all make sense… well! What were they thinking!?

(You’ll see the little doodad at the bottom of the screen, something I’ll be running for the rest of the month, containing my word count. The dark grey lines are my daily word aim, so approximately 1,667 a day, but this readjusts itself if I am ever under or over the limit from days before. Anyway, I suppose the important thing is that the green represents what I have typed or gone over the daily target, and the red what I am under. Kind of exciting in a paint drying kinda way, isn’t it?)

So far today I have managed to churn out a poorly 418 words. I have to admit that I’m writing this blog entry, poaching some eggs and sorting my washing as a procrastinational tool to avoid writing Word #419. ( Up to that bit I’ve just written 225 words – can I claim these as part of my 1,667? No? Damn.)

Anyway, from what I’ve read the trick to NaNoWriMo is not to have any idea where you’re going and just let yourself go along for the journey. No idea – no plot  - no plan. With that in mind, I’m doing tops!

One of my avoidance tools was to buy some mince to make a spag bog, which I did buy but haven’t made – I just had the above mentioned eggs and asparagus for dinner instead (Note to self: ate asparagus at 20.03. See how long it takes before your wee smells). I also picked up, for inspiration, a bottle of $10 white wine. And it’s worked –  it has inspired to in future spend more money of white wine.

My novel is called “Need Wine” (hence the need for inspiration) and it’s about a late 30 something gay graphic designer who drinks to much and can’t hold down a relationship. It’s a complete tale of imagination and is not based in any way on anyone I know.

At least I have an opening line:

On a bright Saturday morning, Jacob Sponge woke up.

Ain’t that something?

Right, enough of this. I’m going off to churn out some more.

Wish me luck on the journey.

Clyde

PS: For those who were wondering: 23.39.

PPS: It’s 1.410am. I’ve added considerably to the previous 418, with a nice 500 word bumper over the daily limit, and think it’s time to go to bed. I’ll leave you with my last line:

Secretly, and not kindly, he did hope that the alcoholic fumes would kill off any desire before anything came to pass.

PPPS: For those who were wondering just how long 1,667 words is, every word in this blog, including these ones, is 592. Which means I need to do around three times this every day, coherently, with structure and some form of character development. And a couple of subplots and twists and turns. And not too much padding, which is what I’m doing now. So there you go.

Thanks to Caffeinated Bliss for the word count utility.

The Fun Theory

Yes, I know this is just a blatant ad for a car company, but still, it makes me smile. Consider the following:

We believe that the easiest way to change people’s behaviour for the better is by making it fun to do. We call it the fun theory.

Now enjoy:

Aren’t they something!

So now it’s your turn. There is a competition being run to find the next thought, idea or invention that helps prove the fun theory. And there’s prizes too – the first prize being €2,500, which is a bit over $4,000 in Oz money (at the moment anyway). That’s definitely enough to get those thinking caps on.

And there’s still plenty of time – the competition doesn’t close till Sunday 15 November 2009. In between finishing uni, NaNoWriMo, the wedding invite, learning to crochet, and restumping the house, I might just give it a go.

Visit thefuntheory.com for more information. Check out the other entries for inspiration… I’m particularly liking the Connect Four Beer Crate.

(Incidentally, if Volkswagen wants to, like, send me a car or something, I wouldn’t say no.)

Potato Queen

So I’m at the Lord Roberts Hotel for Bears on Sunday and I’m sitting at a table with Andrew and some new faces. Apparently I’d met these people the week before but I was incredibly purposely drunk then – the word “maudlin” had been used – so I had no memory of meeting these people at all. When I explained to them the reason for my previous overly-liquoured state they were perfectly understanding. Now that I think about it I can’t remember either of their names now, and I’m still on my first bottle. Anyway…

One of them was a heavy set Latino type, quite handsome in that “I shall roll my R’s at you and over enunciate each syllable as I say them as that is the way we speak in my Country of Hot Passionate Lurve” kind of way. He drew back on his American bought Malboro then leant towards me and touched my arm. ”I like your tan,” he said.

I gave a short laugh. “I think you mean lack of tan,” I flipped my arm back and forth to demonstrate the complete absence of any variation of skin colour.

“Well, I suppose that is hwhat I mean,” Latino smiled, “You see, I’m hwhat they call a Potato Queen.” He hwinked winked at me.

I had to think about this. Ok, I reasoned, if a Rice Queen is someone who is sexually attracted to Asians; a Potato Queen would be someone who is sexually attracted to… umm… Vegetarians? Carbohydrates? The Irish? I gave up.

“I’m sorry,” I said to my new admirer, “You’ve got me there.”

“Hwell,” he said. “What’s the colour of the inside of a potato?”

“… White?”

He nodded. “Hwhite. I’m attracted to hwhite skinned men.” He winked at me again. “And you are very handsome.”

As a tension breaker I took the jug of beer from the table and refilled my glass. “Thank you,” I said.

Latino sucked on his cigarette. “Don’t mention it,” he said. “The pleasure’s all mine.”

He got his friend to take a picture of us. Apparently I need to work on my smile.

$10 Steak

Meeting up with Ashley last Friday night so, knowing how these nights usually end, thought it wise to eat something substantial first. What better than a $10 steak from Mansions Hotel, so around I go and order my usual - medium rare, pepper sauce, chips and salad (I can tell you it’s the best there is). I’ve half drunk my schooner by the time my meal arrives. Ravenous, I dig in.

Halfway through my steak I put down my knife and fork and lean back. As I wipe the juices from my chin I catch two people from two different tables watching me: a handsome goateed Spaniard at one, and a elderly lady with pencilled eyebrows at the other. Both of them then leant towards their dinner partners and whispered something.

Now, I can’t lip read but I know exactly what they said. They said something along the lines of:

My what a handsome young man that is sitting over there enjoying his meal. And what a darling impressive moustache! It makes him look soooo…. debonair… in an Hawaiian private investigator kind of way.

People have strange eating habits. Mine, with the $10 steak, is to first eat all the steak with the salad, then swivel the chips around in the remaining gravy and eat them last, sort of as a hearty dessert. So, meat gone, I put down my knife and stirred in my chips into the pepper sauce and bloody juices. With my spare hand I reached across and grabbed my beer.

As I looked up I noticed both the dining partners now looking at me. As before, both looked away as I saw them and both then whispered something across their tables.

I didn’t mind, I knew what they were both saying. The partner of the Spaniard was saying:

Yes, he is indeed a handsome man. and that moustache – so suave, so sophisticated. Pity to me and my unwhiskered upper lip!

At the other table, the lady eating with Pencilled Eyebrows said:

I see what you mean. What stylish confidence that young man has. With a moustache like that, he is perfect epitome of the “Man About Town”.

Chips gone I sat back and enjoyed the rest of my beer. Two men had taken the table next to me. One went to the counter to order.

“Philip!” Counter called. “Philip! What sauce do you want?”

“What they got?” cried back Philip.

“Mushroom, peppercorn or Diane,”

“Ooh,” said Philip, “I’ll have the Princess thanks.”

Counter paused, then: “What?”

Philip rolled his eyes. “The Princess! Princess Di… Diane!” Counter made the order.

Back at the table Counter apologised. “I had no idea what you were talking about.”

Again Philip rolled his eyes. “Gees, call yourself a queen…”

It was at this time I left and went to Coles to buy some clothes washing powder and iSnack2.0.