National Bookstore Day (Oh and some NaNo Stuff, Too)

Word count for 11/5: 1818
Total word count: 7634

First off, and most importantly, a break from the NaNo blather: Saturday, November 7th, is National Bookstore Day.

There’s a list of participating bookstores up at the Publishers Weekly link, but if you don’t see one near you on there, why not check out Indie Bound to find an independent bookstore in your area and show them a little love?

Coming either over the weekend or early next week: musing on the “here, have a hard copy of your NaNo” offers, and a ramble about book pricing and how it affects something that’s pretty important to me: paying writers for what they’ve written.

And now, back to NaNo stuff.

(I’m sorry. I know it looks like it’s shaping up to be a kind of narcissistic month here at L’esprit d’escalier.  I’m going to at least try to keep from faceplanting all the way into my own reflection by throwing out some writerly things to think about. If you’re a-NaNoing too, by the way, feel free to post in the comments with how you’re doing, your favorite lines from your own projects, bits of wisdom you’ve found along the way, whatever!)

I gathered up the courage to snag a table on the train last night. No snide comments from other passengers!

However, the group at the table across from me whiled away the trip by reading trivia out loud to one another.  Seems I have to choose between my wrist going ow ow fuck ow the whole way home or my brain going want to smite… want to smite… the answer’s twelve, you idiots… want to smite…

Also, having a table to lean on still didn’t solve the whole thing where the train’s still shaking and my handwriting takes a nosedive.  Which means of course, that the temptation to spend my recent mileage reimbursement on half the cost of a cheap netbook is getting harder to ignore.  Decisions, decisions.

A snippet that I don’t totally hate from yesterday’s writing session (needs work, kind of run-on-y, but I really like the gist of it):

…a month ago he’d believed clairvoyance was a sham.

Of course, he was hurtling along the streets of Boston with a little girl in his arms who might very well be the reincarnation of Christ and he believed in that just fine, so he was well aware of his own hypocrisy.

I think it’s safe to say I’ve found the right beginning at last, though I’m a bit concerned over the pacing in a few spots.

And so begins chapter two, in which I switch narrators for a while.  We’ll see how this works.  I’ve only recently started thinking about telling the story from multiple viewpoints, and I haven’t been in this character’s head in a long damned time, so we’ll see how it goes.

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