Finals.

And that's all for today, thank you.

Soaring vultures

Finals are bearing upon me. One exam tomorrow - later today, actually, as we're past midnight as of this writing - two days of mad studying, and four more exams.

Also on my schedule: meeting a few teachers from my department to discuss a possible change of orientation leading to graduate studies.

So, writing projects are unfortunately on hold for now, which allows me to realize that, while I have found a purpose in the grand scheme of things, I still need a more down-to-earth hobby, for these times when I need to blow steam but cannot maintain the concentration required for creative writing. Badminton would be great.

I'll continue to edit the NaNo, before sending it to a few local publishers. I'll also need to start researching for my next novel, a literary science fiction project that I've wanted to do for some time.

Another idea I've been toying with lately is a fiction serial - if one can produce three webcomics a week and put them on the web for all to see, then I can produce three 1000-word snippets of text per week. This, too, will require quite a bit of preparation and research - I'm aiming for a debut in the first few days of 2005, but that's being extremely optimistic.

This is life. This is me.

At last!

I just got through the first spellchecking.

All I can say now is that modern society couldn't function without the 'find and replace' function.

A few minutes...

We don't write to be published. We don't write for fame. We don't write for money - ha! I don't even write to be read, though that's always appreciated.

We write because of this visceral blaze consuming us. I write, as I can still feel the abyss beckoning me. I manage to keep it at bay - to keep myself from plunging in it - partly thanks to my craft, however poor - or great - it may be.

I've begun the editing process of my first novel, taking things rather slowly for now, finals week and a few other projects leaving me a few hours short everyday. So, I'm mostly running the thing through a spellchecker, which should take care of the typos...

And leave grammatical errors right in, along with repetitions, ambiguous phrases, and a few passages here and there than would need some working on.

As NaNo is over, and as I'm not particularly bent on publishing this thing, I'm mostly editing for myself - to finish the novel, rather than leave it as a botched, half-completed attempt at literature.

And now, to find another, taller mountain...

As of this writing, my NaNo project sit, unedited, unpolished, on my desktop.

It begins with a messy breakup. It ends with the resolving of Oedipian issues.
I don't especially care about its readability - I will, eventually, when I will have started some editing work. For now, however, I'm satisfied with the results. I'm satisfied with the journey of the main character, and I'm satisfied with my journey, my experiences with this novel.

NaNoWriMo is n exercise in discovering the essence of human greatness. As Brel so eloquently put it, we are not gods; we are much more than gods. We're human.

I had some trouble, as I had what I thought were 50000 words, but NaNo's wordcouting software didn't agree with me. What followed was a 3000-word mad dash, some of the best and most thrilling I've written for this project. My final scenes went from mediocre - this project starting to drag on - to spectacularly good.

Perhaps I could have phrased the last few paragraphs better. That, however, will be for later, when I'll edit. Right now, I'll sit back, enjoy this exhilarating feeling, and bitch and moan about no one being free to go out and have a blast this evening - which isn't actually that bad, given that I do get up at seven tomorrow morning.

On an unrelated note, my mood swings of yesterday might have been caused by caffeine withdrawal. Or not.

Buy Bouncy Bubble Beverage!

A newfound frenzy animates me. So much to do, so little time... My personal guess is that, in the event that my schedule would get any busier right now, I'd simply explode.

I can't help but wonder is what I feel right now is happiness, or simply a mad, frantic exhilaration whose only purpose is to prevent me from noticing my own suffering.

If I were happy, I wouldn't feel like smashing my own soul, would I?

They say that depression is merely anger without enthusiasm.

What if I hadn't found happiness, but simply enthusiasm? What if I had nothing to project my feelings on but myself?

The inevitable crash

Well, I guess that this was bound to happen sometimes - a month of crazy energy and unbounded happiness is perhaps a bit... Unnatural, or at least implausible, given the current state of my life.

I wouldn't even go so far as saying that I'm depressed: I still have my goals, and I still have the energy to meet them. Simply, everything is see around me now is a charred ruin, this universe is a glaring imperfection, and my soul bleeds from so many mistakes.

NaNo is now at 47000 words. Once I take that first step toward what little remains to be done, nothing will stop me.

The Void of Happiness

Sleep deprivation, caffeine, progress on my novel - I now have a functionnal plot outline for the last 10000 words! - and a good night of gaming made my heart soar to previously undiscovered heights.

This rush of energy is great and would inspire me to chunk out a good 3000 words or so before going to bed, but I desperately need eight hours of clean, healthy sleep, as the next two days are going to be harsh - physically and emotionally.

This is a feeling that I know I'll crave for the remainders of my days, yet so intense that, shall it eveer become permanent witthout losing any of its potency, shall surely be fatal.

Happiness so great as to make you want to slit your fucking wrists.

NaNo wordcount: 40413