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Confession on my word count update: I didn't get any new writing on my NaNo novel today. So I stand still at 12,177 words.

I wasn't completely devoid of writing, though. As you might recall, I said I might be starting on the third of the Tattooine series, and since then, I have written two missives. They go out Sunday night. So here is a slightly modified version of the one I sent out to my email addressees. They received an attached photo, which I did not attach here, so I edited out most of the information referencing that photo. Enjoy:

MISSIVE #2 FINDING A PLACE TO LAND

Wherein I: Move into my new space pod, pay my respects, and try out my new spacesuits

ALCON:

Last week, I told you all that I lucked into renting a mansion while living on US-Beta. Okay, honesty being the best policy, I have to admit, I only have the right half, one where the door is nearly blocked from view by the hundred year old tree. But, even with half of this place, the house is pretty darn big. And I rattle around in it, big time.

For the record, I don't have to rake the leaves. Thank heaven.

My fellow spaceman (aka Mom) has been trying to help a bit. She's given me five West Point chairs, two coffee tables, a rocking chair, a child's fireside chair, a couple plant stands, two tables, and...uh, that's it.

My boss gave me a bunk bed, which came in handy later, when some other space travelers came to visit (more on that in a bit), and I've bought some accessories, like shower curtains, sheets, pillows, soap and cleaning supplies. I rented a queen-size bed for myself. And I bought a television.

Needless to say, my bank became somewhat confused when I suddenly started spending money on another planet. But it all worked out in the end, and slowly but surely my humongazoid space pod is becoming more and more like a home away from home.

I had space travelers within days of my own entry because of the funeral of my stepfather, which was held last week. My family, bless them, decided they all needed to be here to pay their last respects, so they left about 4:30 one day, took the nine hour space trip, slept in my brand new beds, attended the services and luncheon, and hopped back in their spacecraft for the ride back home to Earth 24 hours later. Now THAT's space travel.

The interment took place at the nearby national cemetery, and was quite moving. My stepfather was a veteran of three different wars, so they gave him a 21-gun salute (actually seven guns fired three times each), then played Taps. There was a flag on his casket, which the Honor Guard folded in ceremonial fashion, then presented to my mother. It was then that I broke down. My daughter lost it at Taps.

The memorial service was also quite moving, but I kept it together till the very end, when three people I work with came up to give me their condolences. They were all dressed in their Class A's. For the record, we in the military don't wear our Class A's just any old day. I wear mine approximately once every two or three years, when I take my official photo. So when I saw them, I knew they had planned to be here a few days before, and had had the uniform cleaned, pressed, and brought with them that morning.

Wow.

So I lost it again.

Speaking of uniforms, here on US-Beta, the spacesuit is unlike just about anywhere else in  the military. As a faculty professor, I am not supposed to where the army "work" uniform,  which is the digi-camouflage teal- and beige- colored monstrosity (oops, scratch that)--um-- wonderful uniform most of us now wear.

By the way, I hear they're changing that uniform yet again. Why? Because it's not camouflage  for ANYTHING, here or in any other galaxy.

I digress. I can sometimes wear the Class B's, which are the green Class A's without the jacket, but those are being phased out, too. Really, they want us to wear civilian business wear, so that we're not intimidating to the students. Who don't see us except for two weeks a year anyway...

I am amazed by what the space-men wear here. Real men--we're talking men with twenty-five or thirty years of Army experience here, not to mention combat time--DO wear pink. Pink shirts, pink ties. They also wear periwinkle, French blue, maroon, and red. Joseph's shirts of many colors. I'm impressed; they're more adventurous than most men I know.

If you don't see me on a daily basis, maybe you don't realize that I don't have much in the way of civilian business wear. I'm a writer who works out of the home, after all. My civilian uniform, back on Earth, is basically jeans and a short sleeved shirt (usually NOT a t-shirt) in the summer, or a turtleneck in the winter.

I know. Clinton Kelly and Stacy London would not approve.

So I scrounged until I found my two and a half suits, scrounged a little more and found a few jackets, and bought some fabric to make one more suit. Er, well, I got the pants and the skirt done before I got here. I'll send a missive when I finish the jacket.

My fellow astronauts are likely to get bored with my black suit, my black pin-striped suit, and my...well, I must have some color around here somewhere...

Till next time

COL Christine Cook

Word update for the day: I'm at 12,177 words.

Today, I got tired of writing about Ballion, the hero, so I got a few scenes done with the anti-hero, Amanda Wearever. I'm finally beginning to feel like I understand this antagonist and where she's coming from. The story's beginning to sing a little bit.

I spent about two hours at a used bookstore, doing a write-in with other Wrimo's. Gigglebear was there, as was Nellie and Mage. There was one other, but I forget her avatar/user name. Sorry, whoever you are.

Across the board, it seems it's hard for people to get down and work on this massive 50K project. While I won't describe which username was having which problem, one of them admitted his scr-fi project was veering into places unknown (maybe a galaxy where no one has been before). Another found the stacks of books to our side much more appealing than the blank computer screen. Yet another said her breaking point seemed to be at 500 words, any given time she tried to sit down and write.

She was actually surprised to find out she'd written 1000 words when she said this.

Another said her very small children made it difficult to find time to concentrate on the writing. And another one had a great plot idea for an urban fantasy, one that was interesting to hear about, but I could tell it would be hard to keep control, because the time and place changed every time the main character woke up.

I can relate to every single one of the problems described above. Trying to turn off the internal editor and just write without ridiculing what you've just written is a very difficult task. Somehow, I've been able to figure out how to turn it off, but I struggle, too. And sometimes, I'm afraid my editor doesn't come back to help me find the problems in the work once I've completed the lightning fast first draft.

Come back, dear friend, when I need you.

It's always a struggle. And, blogosphere snide remarks to the contrary, NaNoWriMo does a lot to try to help us struggling writers out. Cut the contest a break, would you?

Boy, am I tired.

NaNo update: I'm at 8,413 words. I'm still working on the Ballion portion of the novel, and I'm at about the Break Into Two, Fun and Games section. It feels very skeletal, but there you have it. We'll see what comes out of this process.

Meanwhile, the guy at PimpMyNovel was dissing the NaNoWriMo today. Puh-leeze. He was saying that if people think they've finished a novel when they write 50K in a month, they are sorely mistaken. And if they query directly after the project, in December, not only are they trying to sell their work during the busiest time of the year, but they're wasting everyone's time, including their own.

Now, as an aside, I'm not sure where he gets off saying it's an editor's busiest time, or an agent's for that matter. Granted, as the person who is trying to sell the books to the bookstores, it may well be HIS busiest time. But, having been on this end of the publishing industry, I can tell you it sure seems that agents and editors pretty much take off the whole month of December. It may be perception on my part, but somehow, I doubt it.

Either way, I think Mr. PimpMyNovel is completely missing the point of NaNoWriMo. I have always used it to get a first draft on paper, so fast my brain can't really think, and my ever-present editor cannot engage. As such, amazing insights come to me when I do it, and I come up with plot twist I never would have considered at a more leisurely pace. There is time for revising later.

And yes, NaNo'ers must revise. There is no substitute for a polished manuscript, and NaNo is only a diamond you just found in the rough by month's end.

First, an update, since I wasn't able to update yesterday. I am currently at 7,052 words today, so I'm keeping the pace I need to make it. I think on Week 1, I'll focus on Susannah Ballion's story; on Week 2, I'll focus on Don Neighbors. Week 3, I'll do Theodore Dostoievski, and on Week 4, I'll do Amanda Wearever. I plan to build in the pivotal fifteen scenes for each of these characters, and if I get that done this month, I'll be very happy.

Last night, I didn't post because the family began coming in for the funeral. I made three salads for the luncheon between the interment and the memorial service, with my step-niece helping out.

Last night, my own family and mother-in-law arrived around 1 a.m., and we tried to get to bed as quickly as possible after that. But try as we might, it was a very short night last night, and we were up early this morning.

We had to get to the funeral home to start the procession to the cemetery, an hour away. It was a military funeral, and those always get to me. Maybe it's because I, myself, am in the military. Maybe it's because I can still remember like it was yesterday my father's military funeral twenty years ago. Maybe it's because too many of our soldiers are still coming home in caskets after eight years of Afghanistan and Iraq.

I don't know what it is. But the 21 gun salute got to me today. My daughter started to cry as they played Taps. I felt it in my chest as they folded up the flag. And tears flowed down my own face as they gave the folded flag to my mom, for the second time.

I think the funeral itself was harder for my step-father's own children, and for his surviving brother. I kept it together, except as his baby brother began to reminisce, and as his friends stood up to offer stories and best wishes to the family, and to bid farewell to their lost comrade. I was able to keep from serious crying until some of my work friends came up to me, dressed in their Class A's, to offer their condolences. It wasn't just that they were being so kind to me on my first week of work, but the fact that they were in the Army dress uniform told me they had prepared to come and organized themselves to wear a uniform I personally wear only once every three years for an official photo.

After the service, my family had to get back on the road for the long haul back home. School must go on.

As does life.

Word count update: 4,646 words so far.

Total for the day for NaNoWriMo is: 1,764 words, which to me, is not a bad way to start.

There is not a huge amount to report today. The moving in continues at a slow and laborious pace, the plans for the funeral are basically made, and now we need to get the houses ready for all the company. And I'm fidgeting and flakey, because I'm about to start NaNoWriMo tomorrow.

This will be a short post today. My step-father died this morning at around 6 a.m. He was 87 years old. He had a good life, a productive life, and up until about a year ago, he had a relatively healthy life. Heck, he'd never even had chicken pox.

I can thank Mark Terry for my topic today (see his blog through my links). He decided to track how many novels and/or books he's written. So I thought I'd do the same, especially since I'm supposed to write about classical literature I've been reading. This can be summed up in one word: nada.

I found myself, last night in the wee hours when I was tossing and turning, too nervous to sleep because I was starting work tomorrow, wondering if I should do the equivalent of LIVING ON TATTOOINE III, which I considered calling, WHAT PLANET IS IT THIS TIME? or possibly UM-BETA MEETS THE LOOKING GLASS.