Image courtesy of Jon Candy via Flickr Creative Commons
NaNoWriMo is the Olympics of the Writing World…
…except you are the sole representative of your country. And you have to do every single sport. Everyday.
It’s also kinda like spending a month in solitary confinement, but with more caffeine. The goal of NaNo is to write 50,000 words in 30 days. That’s 1667 words per day.
In short: it’s grueling.
But the rewards outweigh the mind-crushing, soul-smothering moderate difficulties.
Do you want to call yourself a writer? Here are 9 reasons why you should say “fork it” and plunge into NaNoWriMo:
Continue reading 9 strong reasons why writers should PLUNGE into NaNoWriMo
Disclaimer: this is not a political post. I find politics fascinating, but I don’t intend to comment on them (or take them seriously).
The point of this post is to talk about plagiarism, and highlight a potentially powerful strategy which may have drastic repercussions on the writing world – a strategy that authors and writers may have to fight against in increasing amounts.
Let’s begin with a quote from one of my favorite novels:
Continue reading Melania Trump Plagiarized … on Purpose? (And What this Means for Writers)
His fingers drip with ink; his face – with sweat. The candlelight flickers, casting shadows across the spidery, illegible scratch and ink stains.
Inching closer to the page, the Writer inches reads from his own words – “…to become a real writer, to climb the ranks into Authorship, one must write everyday.”
But, like all of life’s solutions, there is a problem. As he chews on his quill, a new question rolls around his mind…
How DO you Write Everyday?
These 9 strategies will help you build a daily writing habit so powerful, your own friends and family will think something is wrong with you:
Continue reading Write Everyday with these 9 Habit-boosting Strategies
In this line of work there were few answers, and many questions.
One question, in particular, stuck out like a knife from a dead man’s chest: “Could you ever kill a friend?”
For years, Blay the Assassin thought about it, turning it over and over in the quiet hours of the long, cold nights. The unanswered question never diminished. Blay’s passion for the craft, however, did. He found himself a rich man, and even the luster of “professional power-shifting” had grown tiresome to him.
Blay the Assassin was done.
Or so he thought.
Continue reading A Professional Question of Murder – (Flash Fiction)
Number Eight didn’t know it, but I knew she wasn’t an Android.
I don’t blame her. I’m no Robot either. The Masterson’s only bought me believing I was an Android. I’ve been lying to them since.
Understand this: it was a matter of air quality. The Masterson’s, my employers, were one of the few upper-city families who could afford a Dome, complete with the latest in air-scrubbing technology.
You didn’t even need a mask inside the Dome. You could just walk around, and breathe in the air.
I caught Number Eight when I was walking into the East Wing’s kitchen. Number Eight had her back turned to me, and was printing meals from the Dinner-press.
Continue reading Our Human Secret – Flash Fiction