Greetings, people who somehow managed to stumble upon this barely updated wordpress blog, who are probably just searching for the chords of a Filipino folk song whose title I unfortunately used as this blog’s title for a good number of years, and of which has continued to haunt my visitors’ page even though the main content of this blog is mostly personal stuff, fangirl posts of a Korean boyband that has disbanded approximately ten years ago, and recounting of Supernatural Conventions I’ve attended since 2014.
Wow, has it been more than a year since I posted something? That’s just… sad. I can just hear my sixteen-year-old self’s anguished scream of denial that any version of me could live a day without writing anything.
Well, the main reason that I’m here is to revive that sixteen-year-old who aspired to be a writer. She’s been ignored for the past three years or so in favor of work, reading fanfiction, and wandering about in a depressive haze day in and day out.
I am here to announce that I am going to attempt this year’s NaNoWriMo. 50,000 words in 30 days is the goal, so if I want to even get halfway through, I will need to shove aside the fanfiction, the tumblr, and pretty much the entire internet, and force myself to write everyday. Will I be able to reach 50K? Probably not. But I want to try. Do I have the discipline to write everyday and reach my word count goal? Doubtful. But hey, somehow I learned to make brushing my teeth a habit, so maybe it’s possible. Will I tear my hair out two weeks in and be found in a dark corner rocking back and forth? I don’t know. This is a stressful environment that I’m willingly throwing myself into, and I hate stress more than I hate ginger in my soup, so I have no idea how this is going to turn out, but I won’t know unless I try.
Nanowrimo starts next week, and right now I’m in the throes of frantically prepping my story elements, outline and characters. And research. Can’t forget about the research. I’ve procrastinated prepping until November is only a week away, and I would be one step away from outright panicking if I haven’t already been planning to write this story since I was fifteen.
I’ve got my main characters from my story “White Stones,” which was supposed to be about three teenagers/monarchs who are trying to find the legendary White Stones in an attempt to thwart a war brewing between the seven kingdoms of the continent of Civilia. There’s a princess desperately trying to save her kingdom, a prince running away from the shadow of his elder brother, and a knight who is actually an undercover prince who just really wanted to go to school to be a better fighter. Or something. There’s a love triangle there somewhere, although it’s subverted when the princess gets together with someone else. I don’t know why they’re searching for White Stones, or what the White Stones do. They were either going to contain powerful magic or turn out completely useless.
Over the years, I scrapped most of that idea and slowly made little changes to my characters. It lead to a big change in plot overall, less magic and adventure and more politics and fighting corruption from within. Does that mark how much my interests have changed over the years? I mean, I still love magic and adventure, but I often find myself watching documentaries about history of kings and queens. I still hate real life politics, but there’s certain aspects to it and how it affects people and their beliefs that makes it interesting and relevant to me as an actual person living in these current troubled political climate. But I’m not here to talk about real life politics, I’m here to talk about fiction.
My lovely little OCs have grown from being stupid princesses who get themselves kidnapped, to penniless young nobles who have enough ambition to lead a nation. My three main characters have changed so much, and I am proud of what they are now. I’m still having trouble with some side characters that just wouldn’t cooperate when I try to develop them, but I’m discovering that characters are best to start out simple and not overly complicated.
I’m still trying to get my outline ready by November first. The good news is that I’ve figured out majority of the plot points and have a vague idea of what I want to happen. The bad news is that my timeline is a mess, and what I’ve got outlined is mostly backstories that I’m planning to flesh out in a prequel or sequel, which I know is ridiculous because I don’t even know if I’m going to succeed on this. Another thing complicating it is whether to add the magic element to make it a proper fantasy, or just stick with money as power. I’m tempted to add the magic element to solve a plot hole, but then it creates a different set of plot hole that I’m gonna have to solve and I don’t know if I have time or the patience for that.
That’s the joy of writing, I guess. It’s the despair you feel when you stare at futility right in its face; it’s like filling a hole by digging another hole and filling that hole by digging another one and so on and so forth. There’s also the vast amount of research that I still need to do in order to further develop my settings. Countries and economics and geography and society and how my characters would navigate them.
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. I can’t wait to start.
Well, it’s time to dust those meager writing skills I’ve developed in my teens that I’ve let become rusty over the years, and start writing. If you see a woman stumbling around with large bags under her eyes and missing patches of hair caused by pulling in frustration, please either ignore or direct her to the nearest bed with a pillow.
I plan to give this blog an update about my progress every week. If I don’t, assume that I’ve given up entirely and am ashamed to show my face, or have already succumbed to sleep deprivation.
Here’s to hoping I survive this upcoming month.