Chapter One Hundred Forty-Seven, in which Words multiply

Your Bibliothecary writes. We have 146 chapters here already.

But back to the NoWri at hand. We are pleased to update the official counter. As suggested, we have taken the beginning of our first novel Disaster and followed with a page break and the beginning of our second novel NaNoWriMo, and after another page break added the expansions to our ongoing novel The Beggars of Azure (which you can tell is real because it has a real title!). This new total should make the numbers people happy.

Obviously the gimmick of NaNoWriMo (the event, not our novel of the same name) works for a lot of people. Though these are clearly not the conditions under which we feel we can produce a decent piece of fiction, it does work for us, just not according to the rules. The rules say one new novel completed--we have begun two, and carried on with an existing third. The good news is that it's all writing, and those first 700 words that came to a sudden dead end might grow up someday to be something spectacular. They form an idea seed that has yet to germinate. Writers require those, too, as well as the words that go with them. The gimmick works for us because we are thinking about writing more, we are actually putting words down again, and we are moving forward. That's a win for us.

Chapter One Hundred Forty-Six, in which there is a new Beginning

Due to the popular demand of half our readers, we will now present an update on the progress of our participation in NaNoWriMo.

An intriguing premise and lots of promise does not a novel make. What we began even had a concrete ending at which to aim. Yet after those first few words there was nothing more to come. Which means nothing else bubbled to the surface. Which means we didn't really try, we waited for Inspiration. And with thousands of other writers doing the same thing, Inspiration was busy elsewhere. Inspiration, as we used to remind ourself regularly, is the reward of daily practice.

Wanting to write and writing are not the same thing. Wanting to write merely requires an Idea, which is but a first kiss to the complete consumation of Inspiration. The Idea is a tease.

What we discovered, or more to the point, confirmed, is that we are from the camp which believes this is mainly a stunt. We are not a writer who can produce on demand. And yet...

A week after our late and aborted start of a novel, we Selected All and Deleted, and we started over with something new. This new novel, tentatively called NaNoWriMo, does not have an end in sight. It does, however, have characters who we know, characters we can take from personal experience and plug them in to this new situation, a combination of writers' retreat, The Real World, Survivor, and (the theme of all our novels) affairs of the heart. And in one brief sitting we produced around 20% more words than we did with the start of Disaster. But what did we really know about Greek courtesans? Writing, and the troubles of writing under the pressure of a writing contest in which one writer is removed at the end of each week (but why not more than just removed, why not eaten, or shot, or some more sinister fate, or apparently sinister, like in Willy Wonka's chocolate factory?) falls closer to the realm of what we know.

What ten days comes down to so far is that we have no chance at this. Despite our spotty postings, we would have a better chance at succeeding at NaBloPoMo. Well, the enthusiasm of others can be infectious, and dreams die hard, and the truth is that we still want to write. Among all the other ideas and characters and teases has even been a renewed interest in finishing the favorite novel we have been working on completing for, what, oh, five or more years? That is what really needs to happen here, and if we can put down any words to that end, we will gladly violate the rules of this affair and count them toward our total. Which, actually if we combine the first output with the second output comes to around 1600 words total. Success is defined differently for us all. And maybe we will end the month being the biggest loser of all. Not writing the most words--now that's something every aspiring writer is quite good at.

Chapter One Hundred Forty-Five, in which a Novel is not being written

If our two readers weren't so distracted by television and voting and internet porn, they might have read Playboy's recent list of the 25 Sexiest Novels Ever Written. This fine literary magazine limited its selections to novels marked by frank language, candor and enthusiasm in which body parts are named and interwoven in ways that arouse, linger and channel our desires. Read them with a friend!

1. Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure
2. Lady Chatterley's Lover
3. Tropic of Cancer
4. The Story of O
5. Crash
6. Interview with the Vampire
7. Portnoy's Complaint
8. The Magus
9. The Wind-up Bird Chronicle
10. Endless Love
11. Lolita
12. Carrie's Story
13. Fear of Flying
14. Peyton Place
15. Story of the Eye
16. The End of Alice
17. Vox
18. Rapture
19. Singular Pleasures
20. In The Cut
21. Brass
22. Candy
23. Forever
24. An American Dream
25. The Carpetbaggers

Check your score: if you've read fewer than four, you're an old maid; from four to eight, you're a curious teenager; from nine to fourteen, you're a desperate housewife; from fifteen to twenty, you're readily available; and if you've read more than twenty-one, you're a five-star nymphomaniac.

Chapter One Hundred Forty-Four, in which the Novel begins

Well, just for the sake of sharing: we have no names, only two obvious characters, but a whole room full of important but indefinite characters, known at this point only by an emotion. For example, one character is a man known as Revenge. Add to this a lack of setting and, most importantly for an historical novel, detail, and we are off to a lackluster start. Would either of our two lingering readers like to sample the first few sentences?

"If you took this case, how would you approach it?"

"I wouldn't take this case. There is nothing to be gained from it."

"Nothing for you to be gained, you mean."

"Of course. You of all people are not that unselfish."

"But there is a life to be gained for the accused."

Let us call this novel-so-far by it's most obvious title, Disaster.

Chapter One Hundred Forty-Three, in which the Quill has been seized

Unfortunately, Your Bibliothecary has not just returned from Tahiti. After three months of other obligations we can finally breathe again. We have missed out on the most recent Slaves of Golconda activities and accumulated uncompleted chores. Though free time has been regained, many activities still loom ahead in this month. So now, just for fun, we have hopped on the NaNoWriMo bandwagon. We have been Quilldriven crazy! Against our better judgement, we have been lured toward the craggy cliffs by the sound of other bloggers sharpening their pencils. We are fully lacking in confidence of meeting the required goal of 50,000 words. Still we are going to give it a try, at least to start. And we have already started one day behind.

Public Service Announcement

Reading=Liberty

Remember, freedom allows us to read the books we want without fear.

The World Trade Center  
Photo by Steve Spak

Here is what Manhattan looked like from space five years ago today. The image I really wanted that shows the city today I couldn't figure out how to retrieve, but there is a link to it below.

A Hole in Our Heart

Chapter One Hundred Forty-Two, in which your Bibliothecary reaches the End

Well, it has finally happened. After much diligent browsing (and some pointless surfing), we have at last clicked ourselves to The End of the Internet. The Internet, by the way, had more pages than even Proust's novel! Of course, you have probably seen this bit of humor before. What we like about this particular page is the final command to go read a book.

A while back Ella came out of her Box to answer a few reader questions. She indicated the possibility that this life might not be all that it seems: "...you and I are fictional characters living in a fictional work a la Jasper Fforde." We certainly needed to find out more about this Fforde character. And we discovered he is a writer, and his first novel features characters who can move back and forth across the boundary that separates life and literature. Characters from Dickens novels cross over into our world, and "real people" cross over into Dickens novels. We ordered this book, and when it recently arrived, we began reading it.

We have mentioned before our way of reading several books at one time. This is a good example: we are already into the second volume of Proust; we have a non-fiction book about creativity going; earlier we had been reading a few of H.G. Wells' stories; and when the Fforde arrives, we immediately begin reading that. The reading does not take place simultaneously, which means for a short time, Fforde takes precedence over Proust--because the Fforde is a simple intermission which can be consumed quickly, and then Proust may be resumed. Proust is presently the main course, if you will, and Fforde is like a piece of bread one might eat between helpings, and the non-fiction is like the wine one might imbibe at intervals to wash it all down.

A whiler back a book called The City of Dreaming Books by Walter Moers was previewed in the Bibliophile Bullpen. The brief synopsis sounded so intriguing and entertaining, we decided to order it. And when it arrived last weekend, it shot immediately to the top of the reading pile. So now on hold are Proust, the non-fiction, and Fforde, while we explore Bookholm and all its eccentricities. We have been through the first sixty pages, and we will give you a word of warning: this is a fun book, with lots of invention, and subjects and themes (as they are so far) which appeal to book-fanciers, readers and writers. Don't be surprised if all three of you, our Dear Readers, are ordering it very soon.

So, having reached the end of this explosive chapter, and the end of the internet, we now push ourself away from the computer and go read a book.