Not much happened yesterday. I got back from archery around 5:30pm and still tried to avoid my NaNo. But in the end, Day 4 did turn out to be productive.
I always collect pictures for my stories whether for NaNo, Froxen Blue, Scars in the System, mini-scripts, screenplays – always. Professor Sarah, before I joined her class, told students to browse through a magazine and tear out pictures (without thinking about it) that made them think of their novel. All those pictures were then arraigned onto a giant piece of paper. According to eyewitnesses, Sarah then proceeded to read everyone’s mind just by looking at their mood-board.
I made my own mood-board yesterday and my flatmate (who is also on the same course as Mitch and me) psycho-analysed it. Woah scary. She pointed out things just from the arrangement that made me feel very naked and figured out – even though I had not considered or realised half the things she mentioned. Not all of it is true though… I think.
-You have very strong females or a female.
-All your females surround the character Mercury. (I based Mercury’s looks off a picture)
-One lady is reaching out to Mercury.
-Your girl is a lesbian because you’ve angled her to look at this lady’s boobs.
-You have lots of white space because you’ve not figured out all of your story yet.
-Everyone overlaps in time-travel more than you first thought.
My brain is going to hurt, it seems. Here is a picture of my mood-board, tacked above my pillow:
My printer is playing up, so the colours are a bit warped but never mind. I’ll be adding to this when I go home to visit my family, so I’ll show you this again at a later date.
Which brings us to Day 5. Even though I’m a lazy son-of-a-gun, I got up and walked to university to hand in deposit money. Now I can go on a demonstration next Wednesday against education cuts; yay revolution! When I came back, I emptied the rubbish and recycling (I live on the 7th floor), scrubbed a pan almost clean because I recently defaced it by burning rice (you’ve never seen anything like it), anti-bacteria cleaned the kitchen surfaces, cleaned my shower and then decided to try and write.
I’ve written out a few more timelines because even more time-travelling does indeed happen. When you’re writing a time-travelling novel, be sure to write out everything that happens in separate lines. I learnt this from Mitch.
1) The series of events in correlation to time, e.g. The saviour was born – the Timeless Brethren go back in time – the saviour is killed – the saviour marries her lover – the Timeless Brethren decide to go back in time.
2) The series of events as they unfold in your plot, e.g. The Timeless Brethren decide to go back in time – the saviour marries her lover – the saviour is killed – the Timeless Brethren go back to the year the saviour was born.
3) Then timelines of all the alternate realties you create. Write them all the way out. Then you know exactly what happens, even if your reader doesn’t.
My timelines: (it doesn’t matter that you can’t read it!)
Aaaaand finally: happy November 5th! As I write this, Mitch and I are sat in the living room watching fireworks crack up all over the city from our awesomely huge windows. Unfortunately, someone has a gun-salute firework display and we can’t see it for the other apartment block in the way, but never mind. Free firework display (all night) for the win!
He opened a few of the mahogany draws, tied back the sun-bleached window nettings, and moved his cloak from the corner chair to the end of his bed, until finally feeling satisfied with it hanging on the corner of their dresser mirror. There was no way of avoiding the patch of blood in the middle of his bed any longer. Heaving a sigh, Frederick stripped off the outer sheet and took it into the bathroom. He was pleased that the bath filled at a decent speed.
Taking the free bar of soap from the sink, Frederick settled on his knees and began to scrub. Pink foam massed between his fingers and the bath water tainted a slight pink, too. Wisps of blood curled around the bed sheet like smoke, but Frederick did not feel appreciative of this little display. He noticed black mould was growing around the edge of the bath. He suspected some form of fungi was breeding in the tap nozzles, and he hated to think what insects were crawling around in the crumbling skirting boards.
Frederick scrubbed and scrubbed at the sheet, his arm muscles beginning to burn, getting more violent the longer he knelt there. His torso was still shirtless, so he did not care when the water splashed him.
By the time the others returned, Frederick was considering using the bleach behind the toilet.
“Come and see what I have!” cried Mercury.
“Are you alright, Frederick?” asked Charles, poking his blond head into the bathroom. Frederick drained the bath and slopped his pink bed sheet over the shower rail.
“Yes,” he said, “I’m fine.”
“Look!” squeaked Charles, making them all jump. The smallest of them rushed to put on his glasses and then pointed across the street. “Look there! She has long black hair, a tan – I have not seen anyone else like her today!”
“Goodness, you are right,” said Garridon in an excited whisper. Mercury tilted his head to the side and stared with prying eyes. It was a moment before Frederick located her.
A cold flush swept through his body. Her hair was indeed long. Segments of it had been twirled into two buns on top of her head, held in place by strange clips and ribbons. Her face was round, cheeks plump, lips deliciously pliant and eyes shaped like no one else’s in the village.
“She looks this way!” hissed Garridon, “Quick!” He fled down the street and the others followed though Frederick could not help but chance another look. She was staring at him, her eyebrows knitting together. At once afraid that Miss Redgrave would recognise his shedding marks, Frederick jogged after Garridon. They raced up a street on the right and saw before them a car park and field.
“She follows!” hissed Frederick.
“For the woods then,” said Garridon, already on the move.
Like a carnival parade, the four sprinted across the field in their colourful clothes.
“I feel like an idiot,” said Mercury as Frederick raced by his side. Glancing over his shoulder to see Miss Redgrave charging after them, her breasts bouncing, Frederick agreed.