so I was a little surprised

So I opened up my nanowrimo from November 2006, a month I remember best for being The First Time I Had Pneumonia, which means I didn't remember much about it since through at least one of those sections I was fairly high on steroids and a lack of oxygen. I didn't work on it again until October 2007, when I wanted to finish off a particular section and it was a slow, slow day at work.

Weird thing; I word counted it, I think for the first time since nanowrimo. I honestly didn't remember I'd gotten 38000 words in. Nor that I had actually worked out a plot. Or that it was interesting.

Call it insane; I like original fiction writing fine, but I rarely get the same high off of it. This is a twofold problem; someone once said that fanfic was more cheap methodone to original fiction heroin, but it's the opposite for me. As a writer, I'm more a practical engineer of writing--I like having limited tools and supplies and told to make something. I don't want all of Home Depot opened before me with unlimited credit. I want a card limit to set myself against and see what I can create, what limits can be stretched and changed and altered. There are reasons on reasons I love playing with leggos, building blocks, games with predefined rules. The built-in limitations are what make it attractive to me.

(Stupid Cheese Tricks, people. That right there is the sum of my personality and thought processes.)

Original is an unlimited bank account and a galaxy size outlet mall. Seriously. Bad idea. Anyone who shops with me knows I do my worst and least productive shopping with a credit card that's paid off. Hand me fifty dollars, however, and I can walk out of anywhere with two new outfits that I'll actually like still in six months. Maybe because it's a lot easier to prioritize with limitations on what you need and what you want.

Plus, I'm writing something I don't actually *read* all that often.

But two days ago, before I went to see Caspian, I was--sitting, something at work--and I suddenly thought of it (no clue why; I mean, it was so free-associative I could have been thinking about whale song or Mall Ninja. Actually, I think I was thinking about Mall Ninja) and I suddenly had my ending, and the ending was one I actually liked. I studied it from all sides, considered it carefully, then checked the minimum wordcount for a first novel and had a really awful realization. This is something I can actually finish. Second draft with add a minimum of twenty thousand words for a subplot I'd been kind of thinking on but didn't really feel like exploring before, and some expansion of a few sections for fun and to hit my personal kinks a bit. But finishable.

I have no idea how I feel about that.

( you see, this bothers me )

My Oh John Ringo No! shirt, according to tracking, should arrive tomorrow. Pictures y/n? Provided I can a.) find my camera and b.) the batteries aren't dead.

I don't know what makes me happier; having it, or the fact that anyone foolish enough to ask me what it means gets a link to hradzka's review. I should print cards for it to hand out.

Or I could say "Threesome BDSM" and observe what happens. I'm trying to decide which one would make the best livejournal entry. Oh please, like everyone doesn't weigh that up during RL interactions sometimes. And wish they had a voice recorder on hand at all times. Or maybe that's just me.

ETA: Reminder: if you want a shirt of your own to cheerfully explain to everyone you have ever met, go here. Artwork by vito_excalibur.