Story bubbles and Chocolate, the other motivator…

Sometimes we need motivation to write.

It’s not that the ideas are not in my head.  No, they are floating around in there, taking up valuable space. Space that could be used for something productive, like deciding to do the dishes, or how to start a novel.

The story idea bubbles in my head bump into and absorb all regular thought bubbles that normal people have bouncing to and fro.  Instead of popping and disappearing, my story idea bubbles incorporate regular thought bubbles into themselves.  Yesterday, when we first started NaNoWriMo, I had no clue how to start my novel.  I’d read that you should start out with a question to answer.  I can’t remember where I’d read it.  There have been so many blogs, articles, and books I’ve read lately to prepare to start my writing career that I can honestly say, I would have to go back and re-read everything to be able to quote anyone.  So I’m not going to quote.  I am just going to say that I’d read it.  Because I did and it stuck in a thought bubble in my head.

So this thought bubble Nano story that I’ve been outlining and researching had no real start.  Where was I gonna get the first sentence?  How the hell do you start a novel?

Yes, I did think those things.  Even though I’d read a lot about how to prepare, get through writer’s block, and sell a novel, I didn’t really read anything about how to start the damned thing.  Except that one time, when I’d read that you should start with a question.

That’s the thought bubble I woke up to yesterday.  What question should I start my novel with?

When I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, my eye’s were puffy, because I’d tossed and turned all night.  I’d thought, “What the hell did I get myself into?”

And that was it!  That’s the bubble that got sucked into this soapy story idea  My main character, looking into the mirror, puffy eyed, and asking, “What the hell did I get myself into?”

Easy, right?  I guess, but up until that second, I was panicked that I wouldn’t have anything to write.  Now I’ve started and I’m still panicked.  But today, it wasn’t so bad.  I just asked myself, “So, what happens next?”

I’d looked at my outline, and away we went.  But there was one more thing that motivated me today.

Yup, Chocolate.  The other motivator.

If I could at least type the minimum of 1,666 words, I’d get that piece of chocolate.  Not just any chocolate, either.  Hershey’s Dark Chocolate.

I typed 2,035 words.

Yay, me!

Let’s see what tomorrow’s motivation will be…

M.

The Adventure Begins

I woke up to the alarm at four thirty this morning.  I deliberately set the alarm sound to be something soothing last night, so I would be gently awakened.  Well, let me just say that last nights soothing sound is this mornings niggling warble.  And I think I’ve said it before.  I hate niggling.

My bleary eyed self tried to get dressed in the dark.  It’s not very easy.  So I turned on the flashlight of my phone.  Too bright, I think I burned my retina’s.  I turned off again.  Who was the idiot who thought getting up at four thirty in the morning was a good idea?

Oh yeah, me.  Why?  Because I had to make the word count.  Remember back in the late eighties and early nineties when Dunkin Donuts had the commercial with the surly, pudgy baker waking up early?  He would say, “Gotta make da donuts.”  That was me this morning, surly, pudgy and saying, “Gotta make da word count.”  NaNoWriMo started today and I’d told myself I was going to get up early and attend the first write-in.  That was before I actually had to get up.  That was when I was brightly awake and blithely ignorant of the consequences to my body and mind.

Now I was up, dressed, and on my way, driving six miles to the first write-in at a Starbucks near the mall.  I was late.  The stupid phone navigator took me to some suburb.  I cursed the male voice.  Yes, I had changed the female voice on my I-phone to the male voice.  I thought it would be cooler because the lady just got on my nerves..  I was wrong again.  At five o’clock in the morning, driving through fog, trying to find civilization and maybe a cup of coffee, the male voice pissed me off too.  I can’t win.

I got there late.  I ordered and received my coffee, prepared my laptop on the table, said a sleepy hello to everyone.  They replied in turn, sleepily.  And then I began to write.  Somehow during those first few moments as the caffeine hit my system and my thoughts turned to my characters and their world, I found alertness.  Everything around me sort of fell  into the background and in my mind’s eye I saw my main character brushing her teeth.  Surly, not pudgy, but nonetheless, bleary eyed.  She was wondering why in the hell she got up so early…

And the next thing I knew, I looked up and it was an hour and a half later.  I glanced at my word count.  2,038.  I still had more to say about this world I was in with my characters.  So much more.  I had barely gotten started.  What the heck?

I closed everything down and put it away.  It was time to head home and maybe write there.  As I was walking out, someone mentioned that their hands and arms were sore from typing.  I realized that mine were sore too.  I was just like the other writers.  It hit me.  I was just like them.  I am a writer.  I smiled as I got in my car, started it up and drove home through the lifting fog.

I am a writer.

The adventure begins...

M.