Too Much

This week I had another close friend suddenly cut contact with me because I'm too much of an emotional drain on her.

I get it. I really do. It seems unimaginable that somebody could have such as long of a streak of abusers, deaths, and bad situations as I have. It's a lot for anyone to carry, including me. And that's why I turn to people for help and support.

Inevitably, though, my despair-ridden life overwhelms them and they 'step back' for their own mental health.

I do get it. And that almost what hurts the most. I trigger people's worst mental health symptoms. I am the reason my formerly happy friends are now suffering. Maybe depression really is contagious. Maybe I really am God's punching bag.

They say 'just be positive,' but as much as I want to, no amount of happiness and positivity is going to stop the abuse and the deaths and all that pain that just keeps piling up with nowhere to go. Forcing myself to pretend to be happy only distances me from myself because I know deep down that I'm just suppressing the pain and not dissolving it. And if I can't be honest with myself and with my friends, then who even am I? Why even bother? They're not my friends if I don't feel comfortable being honest with them, but they also say they're not my friends because I 'overshare' and I'm 'too negative' when I am honest. To me, friendship is when you can talk no holds barred and no punches pulled. If I can't do that, then you're an acquaintance, not a friend.

But if I try to honour them with my honesty, I get cut off. And the stupid thing is, I get why. I get that they need to protect themselves. But then who's left to help me pick up my shredded heart? Who's left to hold my hand? Who really means it when they say they're always there for me?

I feel like I'll always, only be too much for people. There is something fundamentally broken in me and who I am as a person and it will always ruin every person I touch. I am poison, and despite what some people say that isn't a choice. Do you think I chose to watch my family dissolve? Do you think I chose to be abused by a primary caregiver, the church, the director of my college program, and my voice teacher? Do you think I chose for my friends and my cousin to die horrible deaths? Do you really think I wanted all that to happen? If I could do my life over again, I wouldn't even be born. It wasn't worth it. There were good moments, but they don't outweigh all this insoluble pain. I would rather have never existed. Or at least I wish I had died in that car accident, when I still had the hope of a decent life ahead of me -- before anybody else died.

NaNoWriMo - End Of Day 21

Still struggled a lot this week a lot with the 'I know where this story needs to go, but I don't know how to get it there,' thing.

I knew who the villain was, and I even managed to plant some half-decent clues, but all the clues point to why the brother was murdered. I could not figure out how to plant a clue (or even what clue to plant) to bring the detective MC back to the kidnapping case that she was supposed to be working on. I've written kidnappings before, but this one seemed more difficult somehow. Maybe my standards are just so much higher now. I haven't even written a scene from the kidnapped kid's perspective in like 20,000 words because I just don't have any ideas. All she (detective) had was this 'sense' that they're connected, but absolutely zero proof of that, and I didn't know how to provide it.

MC was making a ton of progress on her brother's case though -- you know, the one she was not supposed to be working on.

It's turning into another church drama, which I guess was the point. Apparently I really like those -- exposing the sins of a so-called 'perfect' institution. This was a theme in my writing even before the church ever really hurt me. For this story I'm drifting from my usual Baptist one (Baptist churches are the worst for sweeping crap under the rug and spraying lethal amounts of Febreeze over it when it starts to stink) to a more word of faith-style church -- which I think is what a lot of Baptists have bought into anyway and that's why they treat people so badly and are so resistant to change or even admit that they might possibly be wrong (how many Christians on your news feed are both anti-vax and anti-mask right now?).

In addition, my formerly trusty Neo 2 word processor, Lila II (she was the second one), died on Day 17. This means that I can't write at work (I would get anywhere from 300-800 words in a single lunch break), and this has upset my momentum significantly. I went from easily making over 2k per day to struggling to make it to the minimum 1,667. I am still way ahead in my total word count though (currently at 45.7k, goal for Day 21 is 35k). Some very kind souls in the Discord forums sent me some resources, so I may be doing some Neo surgery come December. By my own diagnostics, it's either a loose wire or a broken/damaged trace, although I'm going to try replacing the button cell battery that I didn't know Neos had until said kind souls sent me said resources. I was at least able to back up all of her files to my computer, so I won't lose anything. If surgery goes well, I'll try to resurrect Lila, my original Neo 2, which died in 2019 following similar symptoms.

Also, the word tracker is SO helpful. I'm really glad I'm using different colours because it really makes the tracker easier to follow. And it's still really satisfying to colour in the progress bar every day (even though it's so long now that my hand gets tired. I guess that's a good problem to have). It's also come in handy when talking to people about the project -- all I have to do is flip to the spread and show them what the minimum goal is, and where I'm at in relation to it. It's all right there in one graph, and it's easier than trying to explain all these numbers to people who have little to no context for them (it also makes being 10k ahead far more impressive). I've actually had people ask to see it by way of an update. Definitely going to be doing the tracker thing again next year (and I would also really like to figure one out for National Choreography Month in January).

(And now, back to our feature presentation...)

Last night, my husband and I were talking about my stuck-ness and he mentioned footprints at the scene. And that was all I needed.

I planted the child's footprints at the scene (which also boosted my word count because then my detectives had to figure out/explain why they didn't see the footprints the first time they studied the scene) and also got the idea of the detectives re-interviewing the kid's best friend. He is proving to be much more informative than he realises -- he unwittingly gives them not only the name of the villain, but the motive behind the kidnapping.

I also know exactly how justice is going to come about now. I'm at the point now where I've tipped the starting domino of the climax, and my job from here on out is just to write like the cold snowless wind outside to keep up with the coming cascade of events. This part is one of the best parts of National Novel Writing Month. I still remember the Day 30 rush of writing 10k in one day back in 2012 not because I was that far behind but because there was so much coming together and it was beautiful and fascinating to watch. That's the moment I live for every year. That's the reason I put myself through writing an entire novel from scratch every year. And that was what I've been missing for the past seven years.

Music Day - Major Tom

Since I'm apparently on a 'secular oldies' kick, we're just going to lean into it.

Despite my love for '80s music and my copious oldies-radio-listening, I had not heard this song until early 2020 when I heard it on the local radio station on the way to my husband's family's winter vacation spot (literally weeks before the COVID shutdown). I was immediately captivated by it. Turns out this particular station really likes this song, so I heard it several times over the next few months.

It's the perfect marriage of Things I Like In Songs:

- space themes

- '80s keyboards

- rumbling bass

- harmonies

- melancholy/thoughtful/introspective lyrics

- singer with a good voice

- upbeat/danceable

- '80s production

- clear and well-built climax

- good emotional/aural dynamics

- cohesive storytelling

If you like all (or even some) of these things, have I got the song for you.

It starts out like just another '80s song -- a staccato keyboard line that builds on itself and adds in some fantastic sassy bass before settling into a subdued guitar that brings in the vocals.

Our narrator sketches out the story: a space launch, the final checks, the nerves of the crew both in the ship and on the ground, the countdown to liftoff...

The music is fairly basic during the actual storytelling, but what makes the song truly amazing is how, the second there are no lyrics, the music shoots into the stratosphere with layers of space-y keyboards that paint a rich, full, detailed scene of the galaxies as the ship hurtles farther into the deep. The story itself is compelling, but it's the musical arrangement that the lyric is placed in that takes the song a cut above all the other story songs in the world. This is not merely tone-painting, it is universe-painting.

Earth below us

Drifting, falling

Floating, weightless

Calling, calling home...

In the chorus, the music itself gives one a floating, weightless feel. The echo they put in the vocal emphasizes that 'alone in space' vibe. It's the musical representation of what one feels when they look up at the dark starry night sky in the country, times fifty.

In the second verse, Major Tom begins to doubt the reasons for the mission -- what will it affect; when all is done? His doubts begin to outweigh his confidence in the mission. Meanwhile, all that the ground crew knows is that Major Tom is not responding.

On that cliffhanger, the chorus swoops back in and carries us away again, in the suit of Major Tom alone in the vast fields of stars. There's a brilliant synth bit here that sounds exactly like a spaceship powering up and zooming off, further into the unknown.

The music settles into the backseat and Major Tom sends one final transmission -- give my wife my love... followed by a haunting harmony and sixteen counts of nothing but staccato keyboard to let the impact of what has just happened sink in to the listener -- an odd choice from a songwriting standpoint, but a brilliant choice from a storytelling/dramatic perspective.

The verse continues -- he is presumed dead, and he is content to let them believe it. His reasons for staying in space are ambiguous... is he an alien, returning home at last? is he escaping the world back home (and who wouldn't want to)? does he feel he doesn't fit in on Earth? has he been brainwashed by an alien king? Personally, I'm inclined to believe the second and third options, but Schilling gives no hints other than the ghostly words this is my home... I'm coming home...

Another eight counts to let the listener process, and then we are launched into the chorus again.

The chorus is repeated and here is where the magic really starts to happen -- it's subtle at first; the keyboard backing harmonies began to change very slightly in the second repeat, and then in the third repeat they're joined by voices and clearly building to something.

The word home explodes through the speakers/headphones in a firework display of musical and vocal harmonies that sounds so much like Shotgun Angel Daniel Amos that the first time I heard it I swore I picked out Jerry Chamberlain's voice. It's a beautiful marriage of music, voice, and concept. 'Home' in space, so far away from home; 'home' beyond the stars. It is the perfect song climax, tying everything up with a bow but at the same time showering the listener with the stars of the sky like confetti or fresh snow on our shoulders.

Fun fact: the song (actually the whole album) was originally written and recorded in German, which is, for all its harsh sounds, a very thoughtful and poetic language. It's actually ideal for writing songs that deal with complex emotions with enough logic to not be silly (looking at you, Italian). When I'm better at understanding German, I would love to revisit this song and focus on the German version of it.

Title: Major Tom (Coming Home)

Artist: Peter Schilling

Album: Error In The System (German version: Fehler Im System)

Year: 1983

iTunes here; YouTube here.

And I haven't even gotten to part II yet...

NaNoWriMo - End of Day 10

Really feeling the Week Two blues this year. Usually Week Two doesn't affect me much, and I'm surprised how much I'm struggling given how much I already know about where the story is going to end up.

That's turning out to be exactly the problem, actually. Because I already know who the villain is, I'm making it far too easy and far too obvious who it is. I recently introduced the main villain, and while he is good for word count (prosperity preachers repeating the word 'Lord' every five seconds when they pray kind of adds up after a bit), I think it's too obvious what his role is in the whole thing.

I also think I made my detective make the link between the kidnapping case and the case of her brother's murder too soon. Again, too obvious too quickly.

Right now I'm in the middle of my near-traditional Week Two dream sequence and it's saving my pace right now. I managed to build up a massive lead in the first week, and I'm trying very hard to at least make quota right now so I don't fall behind.

UPDATE: hit 25k -- the official halfway point of the contest. The dream sequence was literally seven pages long. The official goal for Day 10 is 16,670 so I'm still nearly 10k ahead of schedule.

Today was actually a really good writing day. I managed some 400ish words over breakfast and another 400-500 over my 20-minute lunch break. Altogether I had 1100 words on my Alphasmart Neo by the time I got home and joined the new stuff to the main document. That's pretty impressive considering I'm eating with one hand and typing with the other and am not able to fully relax into the story because I have to be punctual about going back on the floor.

I've been struggling to hold off with plot points because I'm terrified I'll pull a Triple Threat (my 2018 novel) and blow my whole plot in ten thousand words and have nothing left over. Going from 0 to 25k in the span of ten days hasn't helped either -- I'm going at such velocity that I can't comprehend that I'm at the halfway point yet and if I don't get the dominoes falling now, the plot won't be over by the time I hit 50k.

I'm not quite sure what happens next. We have the (anti) hero's backstory and motivation now, but I need a clue that cracks the case wide open for the cops. I also need the lead detective to struggle more, both with her brother's death and with the moral issues of investigating a case that she thinks is related to her brother's case without telling her superiors what she suspects. It's a tricky balance, and I'm not very good at tricky balances.

Either way, here's to the next 25k.

NaNoWriMo - Day 5

Yesterday was a difficult day (cf. yesterday's post). The fact that I was writing about a character who had just lost her brother to death made this both better and worse at the same time.

I did, however, make 13k yesterday, putting me well ahead of the official Day 4 goal (6,668). I hit 5k on Day 1, and have been trying to build on that momentum ever since. I am not going to peter out like I did last year.

I've joined a couple of NaNoWriMo Discord groups, and while they don't exactly fill the massive void left by M, they help. It's better than doing it alone, and having everything virtual again this year also helps a lot -- then I don't have to leave the house after a long workday for a write-in; I can just pop in for a sprint here and there while chatting with my husband in between.

I've also been keeping track of my progress in my bullet journal. I made a graph just like the ones they used to have on the old NaNoWriMo site back in the good old days, and I've been colouring in progress bars every day and noting both my total word count and my daily word count. All the stats I ever cared about are all in one place again.

The story is actually moving fairly slowly, which, if I remember correctly, is a good sign. I think most of my better novels felt slow to start (but read back at a good pace later). At least I should have enough plot to make 50k without having to filibuster too much. Right now the hitman is harbouring an eight-year-old girl in his shed, trying to figure out how to get her to safety, and the police detective (the one who just lost her brother) has just decided to go back to her precinct and demand to work again (they told her to take two weeks' bereavement leave but she is having none of it). I haven't even mentioned the villain yet but I've got two central conflicts in motion.

Today is a slower writing day so far though. I haven't done less than 2500 words in a day yet this month, but I was writing mostly in the mornings before work (800-900 words) and on my lunch break (300-400). This morning, my alarm didn't go off so I slept in and didn't get that writing time in so I started the day some 800 words behind and I'm still trying to catch up. I haven't even written a thousand words yet today.

I've never gotten up early to write before. This is the first time I've done NaNoWriMo with an honest-to-goodness job that didn't have a writer-friendly commute built in. I wake up about an hour before work anyway, just so I have time to dress and put my hair up (I work in food service) and eat breakfast. I figured I could write a bit while eating breakfast and man has that ever paid off. I think the reason I can manage 800 words in roughly half an hour (if that) is because my inner editor is still sleeping and therefore my imagination gets away with a lot more than usual. Also, nobody else is up and distracting me/demanding I give them attention. I'm not going to do this on my days off, but it's a good way to get your quota when you work eight hours a day at a job that is not conducive to writing at work.

I'm actually kind of enjoying myself this time around. M still permeates this event for me, and I'm glad in a way. I don't want her spirit to ever leave my mind during NaNoWriMo. As much as it hurts to write alone, and as sad as it makes me, at least I still get to kind of spend time with her ghost every November. I wish more than almost anything that my dream from yesterday would become real and that she would come back and we could write more novels together and dance together more, and I'll probably never stop hoping that, not even when I'm ninety.

But at least this time her memory and the pain of missing her is a help to noveling, and not a hinderance like it was for 2018 and 2019. I'm enjoying the process of writing this time, for the first time since I wrote Kyrie. Maybe writing half-asleep in the morning is helping me get out of my own head and to trick myself into writing without criticising it for not being the next Kyrie. This story has promise, definitely, but it needs to be able to breathe first before I can force anything on it.

UPDATE: Just did a ten-minute sprint, and now I'm at 14,079. Hoping to break 15k by bedtime.

Joy, Dashed

I dreamt of M last night.

She was subdued -- had definitely gone through hell and back, but she was starting to recover and she was choreographing a dance. She showed me part of it. It was all so real. I was so overjoyed to see her again because it had been so long. It was so real that when I woke up I had forgotten that she's dead. And I had to re-learn and re-experience her death all over again. It's been throwing me off all day -- I was so excited that she was there. We were talking about choreography again, just like before.

I would give almost literally anything for a reunion like that in real life. I thought I really did have it in real life for just a few beautiful minutes it and then it was gone again. There aren't words for how gutting that is. To have everything you've ever hoped for right in front of you, speaking to you, dancing with you, the thing that you thought would never happen actually happening in that moment -- then have that joy ripped away from you again. Only this time it's worse, because you had finally just let yourself get genuinely excited and relax into the knowledge that she wasn't actually dead... only to find out that she did actually die. And you have to mourn it all over again, just as raw and fresh as the day it happened.

I would give so, so much for that reunion to be real.