My rollercoaster journey from 0 to 52,000 words in two weeks. In this post, I preach on about NaNoWriMo, health, and beating creative depression. I also toot my own horn a fair bit, and wonder whether I've abandoned my dark pessimism in favour of rainbow-sprinkled fairydust.
Bite-sized fiction in 50 words: no more, no less. This story was originally published on the fiftywordstories.com website.
It's that time of year again! Only three days to go before writers all over the world sink into a semi-caffeinated, perpetually frazzled state. Here are three books that have helped me deal with pre-NaNoWriMo anxiety, plus a personal progress update that no one wants to read.
"Electricity crackled. Winged creatures plummeted. The abattoir loomed. Sheathed shackles snapped shut. She screamed, defied. ‘No more!’ she cried. But the moths had descended, And the machine must be tended."
"ENDD continued to agonise over whether she should reveal her identity. She yearned to tell the Commander that she was, after all, a she – beautiful and triumphant in the knowledge of her transcendence. And yet, the consequences gnawed at her like the splinter of a glitch. Would he truly accept her?"
"A blood moon rising: my body writhing. His fists now lightning, striking without rain." This poem was written in response to the writing prompt: write a poem without the letter 'e'.
My first personal post: a gameified list of goals to achieve before the end of this year. That's right, I'm delaying and derailing (see: procrastinating) any foreseeable procrastination by, well, procrastinating.
"Beyond the lake of molten brimstone, voices accosted the Ferryman as he piled flesh onto wood. ‘Where am I?’ one squeaked. ‘I’m thirsty!’ another complained. Kol groaned. The Harvest had only just begun."