I'm so close to done, I can already see the finish line! My usual loss of motivation started late this year, which is simply astonishing and great and much easier to overcome. I don't quite know how I did it and kept going where I normally crumble like a soufflé, but I've learned so much just by taking part in this NaNo.
I learned that a simple summary of the plot is not enough to help me through all the chapters. For this project, I did three rounds of outlining: A summary, a short description for every chapter, and a bullet-point outline for every single scene. Works like magic! I haven't lost my way once and whenever I got stuck, I could pull up the next scene and keep working there because everything was already laid out and planned.
I also learned how to stick with it on a bad day and be calm about the days I missed. My usual daily wordcount for the days that I write is 2.5k to 3k, which is not that bad I guess, and that made it easy to stay calm on those days where I simply couldn't find the time to write.
The last thing I learned is something that in equal parts worries and fascinates me. When I write, I write slowly and carefully, work each scene and sentence over until it's just right, until I'm happy with it. I learned this through chapter-by-chapter-publishing on Literotica and GayAuthors, where it doesn't really matter how much of the remainder of my story is done as long as the latest installment looks good. This NaNo helped me identify that this is the main reason why it takes years to finish my stories, but I'm really unsure if I should change that or not. It's easy to throw all caution to the wind when working on a story that I myself haven't known for long, like my NaNo-project. Doesn't matter if a chapter sucks, I'm just doing it for the word count and the sake of it. I don't know if and when I'll go over it and fix it up, so no troubles there. But if I apply the same 'just get it out'-mentality to my other works, the ones that I've cared for for years, will they still end up as good as before?
We will see. As soon as this NaNo is done, I'm off to finish those last few scenes for"Unwilling" with this new 'devil may care' attitude. And then edit it, because years of learning have passed since I wrote those first six chapters.
Six more days to go! I can smell my winner's plaque!
Love,
Hannah
NaNo Tidbit:
Craig gnashed his teeth, enduring the dull, leathery flaps of Kenny’s wings in the air as he kept his eyes trained on the Elves. Eric’s presence was the only thing rooting him to the spot, but it was a close thing and it did nothing to calm his itching need for violence.
Eric seemed to sense Craig’s mood, though. He leaned closer, careful not to touch him, and whispered, “What you feel is normal. I felt it too when I saw my first Elf. Alaron says it’s our nature prodding us to do right by our masters and I’m convinced that he is right. Just breathe, breathe and let it pass. You’ll be fine.”
Listening despite the boiling rage was a hard thing, but Craig did it. It was even harder not to shove Eric out of the way and simply charge in anyway, but digging his claws into his thighs helped a little and kept him on the spot until the dancing white flashes of bloodlust passed. His hearing came back just to mock him with the steady, harsh beat of his heart and the wheezing sound of air passing though his pharynx. The sounds of his own body enervated him almost as much as Eric’s presence.
At least he hadn’t lied about him just needing time to calm down a little; when the others caught up to them and crouched behind the bushes, Craig had almost won back control over his temper. Almost.
Alaron shouldered in between them to survey the situation and Craig almost bit his arm, pulling himself back at the last possible moment so his teeth clacked into thin air. Eric saw and made wide eyes, but Alaron didn’t show any sign of noticing how close he had come to needing a tetanus shot. Craig dug his fingers deeper into his skin. They drew blood with a soft, wet crackle as the skin split, but the pain helped clear his head more.
“Did you see any more than those three?” Alaron growled, his eyes fixated on the glass patio.
Eric shook his head. “No. They haven’t moved since we got here, except to get food or drinks.”
“Are the musicians Elves too?”
Craig and Eric made faces, but managed to swallow their giggles. Craig, still battered by the need to stop talking and get moving, answered first. “There aren’t any musicians. It’s another Human invention that plays music without instruments or musicians. It needs electricity- I mean lightning- to work.”
“Fascinating.” Alaron bobbed his head a few times as if to view the scene from a different angle, then nodded decisively. “I think it best if the fledglings charge. They know what to look out for and how to get into those dwellings. You can flush them out with the least amount of fumbling. When they flee out into the open, we can surprise and overwhelm them. Do not let them talk and if you cannot kill them the instant you get a hold of them, get control of their hands or they might cast a spell on you. I think it best if you simply break their necks. Congratulations, fledglings. This will be more than a reconnaissance mission, after all.”
It was quickly decided that Craig and Eric would charge and flush them out, mostly because there was no way of holding Craig back any longer and Eric seeming to be the only one able to at least nudge Craig a little. He had no idea what was going on with him; he felt flushed, tense, unable to relax, impatient and irrationally angry to the point of faintly shivering with rage whenever he was forced to hold still. Even Eric seemed surprised by the intensity of Craig’s reaction, but Alaron and Duma didn’t bat an eye at it and simply let him be.
The plan was easy enough: They would charge the patio side and force the Elves to leave through the front entrance, a bottleneck that would enable the others to easily pick them off and dispose of them. At least in theory. Since the bigger group had to climb houses to get high enough to fly, there still was a chance that the Elves would notice them too soon and use the giant patio to disperse.
Luckily, the knowledge that he’d soon be able to strangle the creatures seemed enough to give Craig a measure of calm as Eric and him crawled through the bushes and towards the giant glass windows. The music was still blaring, compliments of an open glass door, but the manicured lawn and the sand stone pavers offered little to no way of hiding themselves from view.
They made it halfway across the lawn before they were spotted.
One of the Elves did a double take, stopping in mid-sentence, then he pointed towards them and jumped up with a piercing shout. Craig snarled and pushed himself off the ground, flapping his wings to speed up. The other two Elves were already crawling over the couches when Eric overtook Craig in a sprint, charging through the open glass door and after the scrambling Elves, effectively blocking his way. Craig snarled, lowered his head and crashed through the glass wall next to the door, showering shards of glass onto the beautiful sitting arrangement. Squeaks and decidedly atonal, nervous song-chatter echoed through the spacious house and hallways, leading them deeper into the modern structure.
So far, their plan seemed to work.
It wasn’t easy staying upright on the waxed wooden floors. Eric’s claws dug into the hardwood panes and left deep ridges there, with Craig criss-crossing them with his own. They skidded around corners and through paper folding-screens, broke a door the Elves had hastily thrown shut after them, and still only saw glimpses of their prey as they rumbled through the house. Sheer luck offered them a last view of a cargo pants-clad leg flitting through the front door before it, too, fell shut and they crashed against it. The sounds of fighting continued outside. Eric pulled at the door, snarling like a wild cat.
A floor board groaned inside, nothing but a soft, whispery croak.
“Shh,” Craig whispered, all but slapping Eric’s hands away from the door jamb as he turned around to listen into the house. A few glass shards still clinked onto the floor where Craig had made his own entrance, but the rest of the house was deathly silent. Something was in the soft breeze, not quite a sound, not quite a scent, more like a weightless pressure tickling against Craig’s neck. The feeling made him shudder and softly rattled his wingplates.
“Someone’s upstairs,” he breathed, nodding towards the stone stairs leading up next to the front door. He started to move at the same time, folding his wings closer against his back as he daintily stepped onto the wooden steps, careful not to make a noise. Eric followed silently, frowning but not wasting time with superfluous questions.
Craig’s body felt like it was on fire, each nerve, each cell coiled like a steel spring as he crept up and up, following the rhythm of his steadily beating heart. The stairwell led into a second floor, tightly cluttered with rooms after rooms hidden behind closed doors. There was no sign of anyone having passed through, but that non-feeling was still there, still hung in the air like a promise luring Craig further down the hallway. His head told him to check every room as not to miss his prey, but his other senses pulled him forward more securely than anything else. They passed three doors and Eric got restless behind him, when something told Craig to stop, stop now, and turn.
The door was bland white just like all the others, and like all the others, there was no sign it had been used recently. Craig grabbed the door jamb, exchanged a glance with Eric and took a careful side-step out of the way. Eric raised a hand, held up three fingers, and counted down silently, keeping eye-contact as he folded one finger after another.
The last finger went down and Craig tugged the door open so quickly that it broke out of its hinges, sailing down the hallway. Eric was through the opening like a flash, snarling as he lumbered through whatever furniture stood in his way.
A fearful squeak followed and Craig hopped after him, tumbling into the carnage just as Eric was about to break the Elf’s neck, dangling him in a two-handed grip.
“Wait!”Craig called, grabbing Eric’s shoulder as he shook a broken stool from his leg. “Don’t kill him yet!”
This time it was Eric who seemed to have troubles controlling his rage. His eyes were almost black as he turned his head to stare at Craig with an angelic, blood-thirsty expression. “Why?”
Actually, Craig didn’t know why. “I don’t know exactly, but,” he hesitated, wracking his brain to find meaning in that sudden tightening in his guts. “He could have intel for us, right? We don’t know what they are up to and he could tell us. We can still kill him after, right?”
Eric shifted as he frowned. The Elf wiggled and gargled between his hands, futilely flailing his legs in a bid to free himself from the stranglehold. Some of the rage bled out of Eric’s eyes and he took a deep breath. “That’s… actually a really good idea,” he admitted and lowered the pale beige creature until it’s wriggling feet met the floor again. “But I don’t think Alaron will agree to this and we’d need more time than we have. The military will show up here sooner or later and we don’t want to be here when that happens.”
Craig took a look around. They were in a bedroom, or what had been a bedroom before Eric’s charging in had turned it into a wasteland. The lights were on and the music still blared downstairs. If there was still electricity around here, the neighbors would want to keep it that way and that meant that they wouldn’t hesitate to alert the authority to the fighting going on. In short, Eric was right and this place would soon be swarming with police and soldiers.
“We’ll have to take him home, then,” Craig said, frowning at his own words. “Eldred won’t be happy.”
“Alaron neither. We’d have to sneak him out. And then find a way to get him home without the other’s noticing.”
The Elf gasped and clawed at Eric’s hands, showing its dainty, needle-sharp teeth as it drew blood. Eric slapped it with casual force and it fainted, falling silent.
They both stared at the creature. Then Craig shrugged. “That works for me. Let’s get him home.”
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