So I’ll be cranking out a novel next month. The unfortunate part is that the novel I’ll be working on is probably on the 150,000 to 200,000 word variety based on my plot outline. One of the reasons that I think this will be a good exercise is that I have a strong novel idea that I don’t take very seriously because it’s kind of Pop/Vonnegutty and I’ll be happy to have it done and move on to more complicated work. Also I have machines to build and writing tends to consume a decent amount of time, even though time seems to pass at an accelerated rate when I’m doing it, which I guess indicates that I’m enjoying myself.
I guess what I’m saying is that for anyone who reads this blog, most of what I’ll be posting will be sections of the impending novel and not much else. Because 50,000 words or 250,000 words, I’m starting and finishing it in the month of November. If anyone is participating or is curious about participating and has an idea that they would like to flesh out a bit, I’d be happy to trade suggestions regarding your book. That’s what I’m supposed to do I suppose, participate and get others to participate for the good cause and such, however as I stated earlier it’s also a good way to get a story over and done with rather than doing active editing for a year or two and forgetting the state of mind that you were in when you originally perceived your idea.
The below is not my NaNoWriMo subject but simply something fun. If anyone would like to use it, go for it.
Two women sit at a table in vaguely post-apocalyptic Baltimore. One eats a cookie with a child’s handprint on the back.
-I’m leaving her.
-No you’re not. She’s leaving you.
-I’ll be here though.
-It’s not the same, I’ll always imagine you looking at me and thinking of her. I can’t do this anymore.
Janet leaves the table leaving Susan staring at the cookie in front of her. She works for Five Points Baking which is the company that makes the cookies. Last month she had an affair with an executive behind her girlfriend Janet’s back and today was the reckoning. The cookies are made by the children of members of the losing side of a somewhat recent American civil war. These children roam the wastelands of the Midwest and are brought to the cookie mills to work the production lines and hand stamp the cookies as a symbol of their parent’s failed war and the consequences of opposing the North American Union.
Susan was one of those children. She worked her way up through the company and is now a marketing executive. When a board member came onto her it was an almost instinctual response to do what she could to fulfill her request. She remembered being chained to the oval rack on the ceiling and pushing her hand into the cold dough before it entered the ovens, sleeping in the factory basement with hundreds of other children who subsisted only on production line leftovers. At age thirteen she took her place among her peers and started digging her own grave. She was fortunate that her hands remained small for longer than most, giving her a chance to prove herself an asset to the company.
Alright, there you go, gift wrapped dystopian future with a dash of DFW’s marketing affinity. Let me know if you use this, I would be happy to see it torn apart and rebuilt in any way you like.