writingworksinprogress

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Synchronicity is writing about synchronicity and naming two characters by names then are then referenced in or around another piece of work that you’re referencing when you’re also talking about synchronicity at the same time in the work. Not to mention that all of this was not the original planned plot line. 

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50,000 words.

First NaNoWriMo won!

Still got so much more to write - this is literally just the first 1/3rd, if even that. 

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Got hit with a major burst of inspiration - word count is now 49,200. I should be able to hit 50,000 tomorrow.

This is wild. I did not expect to win NaNo when I started this year. I thought it was just a good way to flex my writing muscles. But it has been so successful. I never envisioned this at all.

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46,000 words as of today. Also, not even halfway through with the plot line.

3 more days to go. Hoping to get a fair amount written tomorrow, just to have an easier start to my work week.

Trying to also figure out how to use this momentum for continuing to write. I’ve never even come close to winning NaNo before. I’ve been starting my day off with writing and using the work from home routine as a way to do that. However, it’s also been hard during the work week to start the day writing for an hour and then going straight into work. On the other hand, it’s meant that I’ve been more productive in writing than I have been for years because I still have energy at the start of the day but after 9-10 hours of work, I don’t have the energy to focus enough to write. 

I’m also trying to figure out strategies for tracking my word count and maintaining my word count because, as we all probably know, that’s one of the most helpful aspects of NaNo - having a word count and a way to meet that goal within the allotted amount of time. So, if anyone has any ideas/suggestions, I’d be happy to take them!

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Day: 23

Word Count: 39, 250

I don’t know how I’ve been keeping up in this way. Here’s to hoping I can keep this going for the last 7 and/or hit 50,000 over the holiday weekend.

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Sorry for no updates - this time around I’ve been writing and haven’t been keeping up with Tumblr. I’m right on track to finish for the first time ever, so we’ll see!

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Loretto Chapel on College Street, Santa Fe, New Mexico Photographer: Aaron B. Craycraft Date: ca. 1925? Negative Number 015170

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New Mexico Gothic Mega Post

Posts have been left untouched except for formatting changes. These are literally all of the New Mexico gothic posts I can find. Enjoy?

From http://mementomoria.tumblr.com/

you live in an adobe house. there are dried chili peppers hanging in your kitchen and outside your door. you probably own a goat. you always have salsa verde in the refrigerator.

have you seen breaking bad? says someone to the out-of-towner. did you know it was filmed here?

the desert is your backyard. your backyard stretches on infinitely. your backyard is beautiful and unforgiving. there are coyotes in your backyard, and they howl at night

driving along the highway you pass camel rock. a few minutes later, you pass camel rock casino. then you pass another casino. then a bowling alley-cum-casino. another casino.

the street vendors in Santa Fe show you their wares - handmade turquoise and silver jewelry. you say, as you always do, that it is beautiful. you never buy it. does anyone actually own turquoise here?

the wind picks up the dust in your backyard, swirling it into a miniature tornado, a dust devil. you shut your eyes, cover your mouth. it will be over soon.

walking down a desert side road, a tumbleweed tumbles past you and continues on, rolling infinitely through the dry red dust

From https://chaoticneutralagent.tumblr.com/

The rain smells different here. People ask you how. You can’t even describe normal rain. Can’t even remember it

Border patrol stops you on your way home from the city. They ask if you’re an American citizen. You’ve been told you’re not, but say yes anyway. They let you go.

Archeologists say that an ancient people lived in the cave across the canyon. You’ve looked for them. There is no cave.

Strangers wave when they drive past you. you wave back. There are consequences for not waving but you don’t know what they are.

All of your neighbors are from Texas. You think you might be too.

You’re taking care of your neighbor’s dog while’s she’s away. She’s been gone for months. The dog is skin and bones no matter how much you feed it. It looks afraid.

The weather forecast is always wrong. You read it every day. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t know it was wrong.

There’s only one employee at the post office. He’s a little strange and sometimes the packages go missing, but he drives a Mustang. You wonder if you should get into the postal business.

You follow game trails in the forest. They always lead you home. The deer are watching you.

There’s a town here called Truth or Consequences. Supposedly it was named after an old-time TV show. The show is long gone but the name remains. It has a sinister ring to it. You avoid Truth or Consequences.

The old folks say they saw lights in the sky once. You never have. You wonder if they’ve gotten better at hiding.

You follow a drainage ditch in the desert until it turns into a steep-sided dirt canyon, branching off in different directions. You come back many times and each time take a different path. It never ends.

All the old men at your church were in the navy. There is no water here. You wonder what they’re running from. It won’t get them now.

People say New Mexico isn’t part of America. You hope they’re right.

From http://illuminirk.tumblr.com/

there are rumors of an interstate. the people whisper nervously. they don’t look at the signs. there are more of them every morning. the cars turn down their lights. they are coming from the highway.

you can hear the bombs at night. there are flashes in the distant desert. the scientists tell us that we are safe, that there is no more testing, that the radiation is harmless. you can hear them whistling.  the bomb sites are deserted. the coyotes keep dying.

a car is found in the tumbleweeds. there is a body. there is a hole in his chest. they cover it with more tumbleweeds. he keeps asking them not to. no one remembers his name. the tumbleweeds cover his mouth last and the wind starts to cry.

once, your cousin went out on the road. she said she was just going to drive. you know better. she does not come back. you can still see her driving toward the horizon. you teach your kids to wave at her. the plains are on fire but you cannot see it.

when the man next door says that he cannot sleep, that the ships coming, that he is the start, you laugh. he starts to scream, mouth open, teeth bleeding. you keep laughing. the police drag him away. he is still screaming. his house goes up for sale. you are still laughing, teeth bleeding. his house burns down and there is silver in the soot.

the sand watches. it whispers love songs. they are not in a human language. beneath the dunes there are bones and they are singing too. the ground shakes. sand comes in through the windows and your bones ache to follow it.

sometimes, you can hear the stars. they do not say nice things. the mountains answer and it is not nice either. they are plotting, and no one will believe you. sometimes, you wake up and they are bigger. they tell you that you are getting smaller. you believe them. you forget that you can speak.

do not go outside when the wind comes down. the children all hide. the ghosts are coming. do not go outside. they will leave. the rains will come and wash away the ash. all will be well. do not go outside.

From http://the-four-humors.tumblr.com/

I kept wondering why there were no ‘New Mexico Gothic’ posts but then I realized you really don’t need to make anything up

New Mexico is already fucking weird, you could just list shit that actually happens

Trucks full of nuclear waste drive down the interstate. You do not know which ones they are.

Large satellite arrays dot the desert. You’re not sure what they’re looking for.

The bats are dying.

There is a place littered with green glass. The glass is from the A-bomb fusing the sand. The government won’t let anyone go there anymore.

What we thought was a sudden storm was a cloud of locusts a mile deep blocking out radar imaging.

Neon lights still run despite the property they sit on being empty lots of dirt.

…literally all of the town of Roswell

From http://tumblingtheology.tumblr.com/

The mountains are named Sangre de Cristo, “Blood of Christ.” You think it’s metaphorical. You’re not certain.

The coyotes are crying outside. They sound close. The coyotes are crying outside. They sound closer. The coyotes are crying outside.

Everyone you know has a cow skull decorating their house. There is a cow skull hanging in your living room. It wasn’t there yesterday. You don’t know where it came from.

Fat summer clouds are rolling in over the purple mountains, brown hills, and green river valleys. The scene looks like a painting. You realize you can’t move. You are frozen. You are also part of the painting.

“Don’t play in the arroyos,” they said. Everyone knows not to play in the arroyos. You never knew why. Now you wish you didn’t.

You get a flat tire and pull over to the side of the road. As you kneel down to remove the flat, suddenly you are surrounded by armed guards. They want to know what you’re doing there. Behind them, chain link fences rise improbably high, with concertina wire wound around their tops, seeking to tear open the heavens and rain down the secrets of the universe. The guards are still pointing their rifles at you as you put on the spare tire. They do not offer to help.

The sand dunes are white, pure white, stretching in all directions. In the distance, there’s a mushroom cloud rising up from the horizon. The wind is screaming against your face. Your skin is starting to burn.

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New Mexico Gothic

I don’t care if Americana Gothic is dead or not; it is October.

Nobody out-of-state can tell you anything about New Mexico. Few people even remember it’s there. 

The coyotes sing at night. No matter where you are, you’ll here the coyotes crying in the brush. Even in Albuquerque, even in Santa Fe, if you listen closely, you’ll hear the coyotes. 

There are mountains, everywhere. Wherever you look, mountains rise, and if you can’t see mountains, you’re in trouble.

The arroyos go on forever. Follow one and before long you will be lost in a maze of steep dirt canyons. The dirt is always red, red, red, red.

When the arroyo runs, you can hear the sound of a weeping woman, calling for her drowned children. If you hear her, run far and run fast and never, ever look back.

You’re driving at midnight and a coyote darts across the road. Even if you try, you can’t hit it. It will turn and look at you, and you will see that its legs are far too long, its eyes far too clever.

Your neighbor’s goats are dying, getting bonier by the day. You ask them why, and they only shrug dejectedly. You ask if they need to be taken to the vet. Your neighbor says it won’t help.

Something is hiding in the little shrubby trees and it is following you.

Nobody talks about Los Alamos. You do not talk about Los Alamos. Out-of-staters talk about moving the labs, but everybody knows the Labs wil stay.

The icons of the saints will watch you. Their eyes are alive and they can see your soul.

There is one store where only the locals go. Only the locals can go. It smells like chile dust and beans. There are goat’s heads in the freezers.

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there was a time when we could have fun with lighting instruments in class and i miss it

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Some neat pictures taken backstage today

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To feel safe again look over your shoulder

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Old cemetery, Madrid, New Mexico

Photographer: Henry Fredenburgh Date: 1968 Negative Number: 059421

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madrid, new mexico

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The Cactus Lodge Motel in Santa Fe, New Mexico

Unfortunately, a tree blocks the view of this former motel. A close up shows that it’s now called Cactus Centro and is a commercial business center. Love that they kept the original, unique sign!

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Gearing up for NaNoWriMo next week. Gonna reblog some stuff in preparation to set the mood.