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danniswrites · 16 days

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I finally got my 2024 Apr Camp NaNoWriMo Official Winner Certificate!

Did Tech Support finally answer my frantic plea? Well, no. But I had read something about recreating the record to get the record connected with the offical NaNo project. So, I searched in Support and found this.

I followed these directions to create an identical project. I copied every day's entered word count and put it in again.

NOTE: You must go to the Stats menu option

Go to your account's page

My plea for help that went unanswered. This post was actually deleted!

So I created an unofficial certificate on Canva.com and put it on social media. I was very upset.

Here was my official project, and I hit my goal and had badges...but no winner graffiti. It wasn't linked as an official project. I'd seen a banner telling me to link it, but when I tried, every project I ever did was listed...except this one, that I just won with.

I looked up on the forums what someone else tried, and they accidentally deleted their project! I posted on the forums about my problem. The other post had been from November. But both that one and mine got deleted! I figured no help was coming, so I made my Unofficial NaNoWriMo Winner Certificate and posted it to Twitter, with a link to the doc for others to create their own if they liked.

But, I'm not one to just give up. So, I tried creating a new project. First, i went to my account main page.

Under My NaNoWriMo on the bar, I chose Projects to get to this one, then Stats to get my word counts per day.

If you left click and drag your mouse so your daily counts are highlighted, you can Ctrl-C [or Control-C] on a Mac to copy this to the clipboard. Open a Notepad file and Ctrl-V to paste. Use this later.

Go back to your Projects page and create a new project. Note that, you must do this before Apr 30 or you can't choose Camp NaNo for your Goal.

I then went in Stats on the NEW project I just created and did Add New Update. Only on the Stats page can you add words for a different day than today!

Now my project says Winner [the top one of the two Galactic Ministers' Staff Projects, on the right side of the bar]

And, I was able to click on it and download my official certificate! Yes, it's a .pdf, but I opened it and did a screenshot with the Game Bar, that's Windows-G if your keyboard has the Windows button on it. It brings up choices for screenshot or movie, and is handy. Find the screenshot in Video->Captures and double click. Use the cropping tool in Photos and save a copy. Now you can post your Winner Certificate to your social media!

That's how I fixed my project so it now says Winner. Good luck to all of you!

Yes, I am upset at what happened on the youth forums. This happens on a lot of forums, and I think the answer is for someone brilliant to write an AI that can detect these vile people! It is bad that it happened, but I still participated, not in support of perverts who took advantage of innocent youth just trying to enjoy writing. I still think the spirit of NaNo is good, and I will continue to set my goal and write 3 times a year.

But now I am adding the also 3 times a year Royal Road Writeathon to my yearly bucket. If you wanna read my latest project, it is

Ella's Saga

Ella stays busy to cope with her chaotic life, but she meets Farley, who gives her a new kind of pocket computer, and she realizes he's connected to SETI's discovery today. Farley also has some unusual knowlege of Ella's future, which makes her realize she needs to rethink her priorities. There is much more to life than good grades and pursuit of her programming career. Her skills are badly needed in Farley's home.

I had 988 views yesterday, so if it sounds interesting, please go read for free! I plan to add chapters daily 'til it's finished, then delete it from Royal Road and put it on Amazon Kindle. Comments and rating greatly appreciated! I love the Royal Road folks and I'm glad to be a member of the Penguins Group [LOL that's the default group for members of Royal Road and there's a forum post explaining it].

#april 2024 #nanowrimo #camp nano april 2024 #camp nanowrimo #nanowrimo scandal #frustration #solution #problem fixed

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feralkwe · 6 months

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so i am still digging up sources to verify things, but there is, allegedly, a grooming scandal being aimed at a moderator of NaNoWriMo forums.

the closest thing i can find to a source is know your meme, which has screenshots from the accusers and the accused. it's not enough, imo, to make a judgment alone, but i did find a statement from the board of directors of nano, which i will share in screenshots. apologies for quality, and it will take at least one reblog to fit them all because tumblr only allows ten pics.

#nanowrimo #nanowrimo scandal 2023

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writing-for-life · 2 years

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I recently went through some of my ancient drafts and stumbled across my very first attempts at writing steamy romance.

Holy TROPES, Batman!

My gawd, the sex scenes!

The cringe-factor of writing the very first one and not having a clue how to bring what I saw before my mind’s eye to the page (it's always hotter when you imagine it, ya know?). But also enjoying it and just keeping on going. I like to inject humour and make things a bit more human, because apart from hot, sex is also messy, funny and all sorts of weird in my view. Sometimes, humour worked. Sometimes, it was… extremely questionable?

So I just thought I’d share one of these first…erm… marvels and let everyone who’s struggling with writing sex scenes know:

It does get better. It does get easier. You will stop worrying if it sounds right, if it’s “hot enough” or “too hot”. You will stop worrying whether using C-words will catapult you into a different category (I don't do "magic wands" and "joysticks" or anything to do with "meat", but if that floats your boat, all good).

At some point, you just write (I certainly came a long way since then - the one I’m posting here is actually quite tame, but at the time, I thought it wasn't). If you like it yourself, there will be other people out there who will, too. That’s whom you write for - forget about the rest.

This scene is taken from a romance fic I abandoned after 90,000 words (yeah, you read that right) because it wasn't going anywhere. The story is so tropey and cringey that no amount of editing was going to fix it. The bedroom antics got better with time though (this is actually the first), so I guess it was worth it in terms of "copulation practice", bwahaha.

Buckle up for the cringe-fest and meet Julian and Rebecca...

NSFW, 18+ only

Swearing

Cheating/Adultery

M/F safe sex/penetration

~2000 words to describe one fuck

When we arrived at the hotel, Julian led me through the lobby towards the elevator, past the reception. He made sure that we weren’t holding hands or looked in any way too close. My mind began to race. What if anyone had noticed? Nothing, actors probably brought hookers and escorts into their suites all the time, and it wouldn’t have surprised me if the hotel staff had been paid off. For a second, it made me feel cheap, but I banished the thought quickly.

We stepped into the elevator, and he pressed the button to the top floor. He looked at me from the corner of his eye, then turned towards me. We were standing really close, but we didn’t touch. His breathing was shallow, and my heart was racing. Once again, we got lost in each other’s eyes completely.

“Jesus…” His voice was nothing more than a whisper.

“What?”

He didn’t answer. He also still didn’t touch me, although I desperately wanted him to.

The elevator had arrived at the top floor, and the doors pinged open.

He just grabbed my arm and basically dragged me through the hallway. When we arrived in front of his suite, he nervously searched his pockets for his keycard. He pulled it through once, twice — nothing, the light stayed red.

“Fucking hell, seriously?” His hands were shaking, and I thought to myself how sweet it was to see him so nervous and out of his depth.

I gently took the card out of his hand and tried it. The light turned green, and I opened the door with a smile. Julian looked at me for a second, still holding my arm, and then pulled me in. He turned around in an instant and pushed the door shut, both of his hands resting right next to my head, keeping me trapped between his body and the door.

We were standing like this for what seemed like an eternity, just looking at each other, breathing heavily. He moved even closer, and his body was now touching mine. I really felt like I was going to combust any second.

And then he kissed me.

Gently at first. He had moved his hands away from the door, one resting on my shoulder, the other cupping my face. His lips were soft, and he seemed cautious, as if he wasn’t too sure if he really had my permission. To reassure him, I ran my hands up his chest and opened my mouth slightly. The kiss became deeper, and his hands moved lower and pulled me in closer. I arched my back, and our hips touched. Before I knew, he had lifted me up and pushed me against the door. I wrapped my legs around him, and our kiss turned more desperate and breathless.

The street-lamps were the only source of light, and when Julian carried me, he bumped into a chair. We both started to chuckle. It only lasted for a moment though, and he kissed me again, stumbling towards the bed, before we finally fell on top of it.

We were both still wearing our heavy coats and winter jackets, and I made some fumbling attempts to open the zip on his. He stopped kissing me.

“Wait,” he whispered breathlessly, sat up and opened his jacket, only to toss it on the floor carelessly. I unbuttoned my coat, and he helped me to get out of it.

Julian ran his hands down my flanks, quickly lifted my top and pulled it over my head. He paused and just looked at me, running his fingers through my hair, before he kissed me again. I so desperately wanted to feel him and ran my hands underneath his shirt.

He drew in a sharp breath and laughed quietly. “Your hands are freezing!”

“Sorry. I’m very nervous.”

“Me, too.”

I moved back my head and looked at him. “Really?”

He just nodded, and I could feel that he was trembling slightly.

“You’re shaking. Is it my hands?”

“Yes.” He closed his eyes for a second, breathed in deeply, and then opened them to look at me again. “It’s actually all of you.”

I took off his shirt and kissed his chest. When Julian took off my bra, I felt self-conscious all of a sudden, despite the dark room. He gently put his hands on my shoulders.

“Please let me look at you.”

I didn’t know why, but I involuntarily crossed my arms in front of my chest, feeling an embarrassed smile creep up my face.

He took my hands, shook his head and whispered: “Don’t hide from me.” Then he carefully pushed my arms aside.

He moved slightly to the side, and the outside lights hit me softly. His lips parted, releasing a gentle breath. It was all I needed to reassure me. No one had ever looked at me like this, and it completely floored me.

Julian kissed me again, gently but very deeply, and pulled me on top of him. I ran my hands down his body until I could feel the button of his jeans. I unfastened it and let my hand slide inside. He held his breath for a second when I touched him, and then just surrendered to my probing fingers.

After a while, Julian looked at me, breathing heavily. “God, I wanted to do this all day!”

I stared at him, wide-eyed. “You did?”

He chuckled. “You bloody well know I did!”

Within an instant, he turned me on my back and kissed me before he jumped up to kick off his shoes and take off his jeans. He knelt beside me again, ran his fingers down my legs and took my boots off, one after the other. His hands ran up the insides of my thighs, and he touched me between my legs almost casually. I inhaled very audibly. He smiled, let his hands glide higher and started to unbutton my jeans. When he had taken them off, a thought ran through my mind, and I knew I had to ask. I didn’t even have to because the very same moment, he started to swear.

“Shit, I don’t have condoms!” He just fell over backwards, put one elbow over his face and laughed quietly.

“What’s so funny about that?” I asked.

“I don’t know.” He turned to face me. The whole situation was absurd, and I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

I turned towards him and propped myself up on my arm. “I’m sort of glad you don’t have any.”

“Why?”

“Well, I would have probably found it more unsettling if a married man had a pack of condoms on him when he’s not with his wife.”

He turned serious in an instant. “Do you think that’s what I’m like?”

I hesitated for a second. “No.” And I really believed it, as stupid as it might have been.

We were lying on our sides, facing each other, and I gently caressed his face. “Are we making a mistake here?”

“I’m beyond caring…”

He pulled me closer and kissed me again. I still wanted him so desperately, and the fire was lit again within an instant.

“Wait…” I gently wrestled myself out of his embrace, started tiptoeing towards the entrance and ran into the chair again. “Shit!”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want me to switch on the lights?”

“No, just give me a second.”

I tried to find my bag, and once I had spotted it on the floor right next to the door, I started rummaging through it.

“What are you doing?”

I came back, fell on the bed and held the condom up in front of Julian’s face.

“Oh no, you don’t!” He faked being offended.

“Well, I’m single. Better safe than sorry.” I had to suppress a grin. “Disappointed?”

He laughed. “I’ll think about that later.” Then he turned serious again. “No, I’m actually very, very glad…”

We kissed, but the gentleness was gone. We were both desperate and impatient. I ran my fingers inside his boxers and started to pull them down until I had to move aside to take them off. I started to fumble at the condom wrapper and looked at Julian sheepishly.

“Can I help?” he asked, half mockingly, half seriously.

“I think I’m okay.”

He grabbed my briefs and took them off rather unceremoniously, over-stretching the elastic in the process, which turned them into a shapeless mess. I looked at him with fake indignation, mouth open.

“Sorry,” he whispered with a chuckle, but it was obvious he didn’t mean it.

I lay down on my back and smilingly reached out to take his hand, pulling him on top. For a moment, he just looked at me, gently rocking his pelvis against mine. Did he have second thoughts?

I ran my fingers through his hair. “Are you still sure? We can stop, and no one will ever know…”

“If you can stop now, you’ve got superhuman self-control!” He smiled, but it only lasted for a second, and he turned really serious. “You only have to say stop, I hope you know that?”

I knew he’d never understand why, but his saying this was one of the very reasons I wanted him, more than anyone could ever imagine.

“I don’t want you to stop.” I tilted my pelvis slightly and directed him where I needed him to be.

Julian gently slipped inside me, still looking into my eyes. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

He kissed me again and started to move very slowly. It was so overwhelming, and it didn’t take long until I began to lose control.

“Wait!” I whispered breathlessly.

“What?” He stopped and looked concerned.

I tried to catch my breath. “I’ve been single for some time, and despite my carrying around condoms, I actually haven’t done this for a while.” I laughed, and it made him smile in return. “I’m really struggling to pace myself. We’ll need to take it slow, or…” I could feel myself blushing at the complete and utter embarrassment of admitting that I really couldn’t control myself.

“You’re very sweet,” he started to move again, “but I really don’t want you to hold back.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to if we go on like this.” I felt myself involuntarily grinding against him, torn between trying to slow myself down and letting go, and I started to breathe heavily again. In a feeble attempt to set the pace, I wrapped my legs around him, but I knew I was fighting a losing battle.

“Just let go. It really turns me on, don’t worry about me.”

He was still moving rather slowly, but the feeling was so intense and deep that I simply couldn't fight it. I started to tremble and everything tightened. Trying to suppress a moan just seemed to make me louder. And then it was over, but it also felt as if it weren’t.

Julian watched me closely, still moving inside me, a small frown appearing between his brows.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“If you only knew how hot it is to see you get off like that, you wouldn't apologise.”

“I’m…”

“Ssh.”

He had found his own rhythm, deep and strong, and we both broke out in a sweat when he picked up pace. I pulled his head towards my face to kiss him. His breathing was hard and fast, and I felt it inside me like I felt him inside me. His body began to tense up, and he came quietly, shaking slightly, his hands buried in my hair.

He kissed me again and again, softer and more gently. His breathing slowed down, and his body began to relax...

#writers #romance #smutty #steamy romance #old writing #one of my first ever sex scenes #I died when I wrote it and laughed so hard at the same time #writing sex scenes #smut #what WAS I thinking?#That’s actually harmless but I thought it was scandalous at the time #nanowrimo #writeblr #writer problems #writerscommunity #women writers

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fleetsparrow · 2 months

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I know I'm a messy bitch, but can I just say that I am L I V I N G for the current NaNoWriMo scandal???

There are not enough hours in the DAY for me to indulge in the deliciousness of this affair. There's drama! Intrigue! Unreasonable and illegal demands of unpaid volunteers!

Whether anyone wants my thoughts or not, here they are:

I am willing to bet good money that the current runners of NaNo are trying to incorporate. They are trying to make NaNo a Brand that can be Trademarked and Sold and Milked for all it's worth. NaNo is in her Venture Capitalist Era and she will be going down in a blaze of... whatever the opposite of glory is.

I truly think that the current owners were banking on NaNo having the good PR of a decade's long non-profit that would cover for the fact that they are going to be selling it to the highest bidder (if they haven't already), and that we would be so happy for them to do it because of Brand Loyalty.

It would honestly explain so much of the last few years, up to and including the recent forums bullfuckery and these new ML NDAs they're trying to pass.

And, before anyone accuses me of reveling in other people's misery (I mean, you're right, that is what I'm doing, but still) with no skin in the game, I'm not a stranger to the NaNo world. I've been here for a lot of years, too.

Yes, there will be a grieving process for what one was, but, my friends, that ship has sailed. A salute to her what once reigned queen, and flights of angels sing her to her rest.

And don't let the door hit you on the way out.

#fleet rambles #I'm honestly trying to keep it together #but this feels a long time coming #shout out to what she was #but we will persevere #nano #nanowrimo

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goodluckclove · 11 days

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Writer ask game, let's go. 10, 19, 38, and 39 please c:<

Shit. Oh shit, oh fuck.

Okay yeah let's do this, Mushy.

10. Do you set yourself deadlines?

I mean I definitely used to. I've said before that I got my start in National Novel Writing in a Month, or NaNoWriMo, where you write 50k words in 30 days. The org has since proven itself to be less than reputable with its recent scandal, but I still stand by the belief that endurance sprints like that are a great way to get the muscle formed to write long-form projects. And you can just do it too, you don't need the backing of a semi-scammy nonprofit.

But now? Not really. I kind of set goals to keep work moving. I'll be like hope I finish editing by the end of this week. But I very rarely make it a hard deadline with actual...I don't know. Stakes? My brain don't work like that.

19. How do you keep yourself motivated?

I stand by the methodology of giving yourself a little reward after writing sessions, although at this point I space mine out more than I would suggest newer writers to. For me this is usually a fun drink or nice little baked good - I'm especially fond of what I refer to as a medium-fancy cake. Something with mousse. But it can be anything really.

Small breaks also help, although I am less good at keeping up with that. I actually haven't taken a full day off in like three weeks but shh don't tell anyone. I'm also very fond of reading over what I've already written and just enjoying it. Or reading books that relate to my character's interests - I'm reading a very interesting book on bird lore that I know Edgar from Songbird Elegies would love.

38. Weirdest story idea you’ve ever had

My weirdest play is probably Naked Lunch: The Musical, which follows a happy-go-lucky, classic musical lover who gets roped into adapting the essentially grindhouse experimental William S. Burroughs novel into a musical and goes a little insane in the process. He imagines himself befriending the ghost of William S. Burroughs, and the ghosts convinces him that to adapt his work properly he needs to do a lot of drugs and have a lot of gay sex, both of which go very poorly. I think Lin Manuel Miranda is mentioned as an unseen side character that my protagonist sees in the audience and threatens to beat up?

And my weirdest novel turned play is Bloodletting, which is based from a dream I had when I was detoxing off of weed - I was like addicted, not a casual stoner. I essentially dreamt that someone made me drink their blood and the blood got me high again, and from that point I developed a sort of sci-fi world where street drugs are so potent that they turn the blood of addicts into a new intoxicant that they can then sell as its own drug. I think they can also sell their blood to major medical organizations and have it used in pharmaceuticals. I still like this concept and might reuse it since I can't find the finished play it turned into.

39. Weirdest character concept you’ve ever had

Bloodletting had a romantic couple made up of a drug dealer and the AI house he was squatting in. My second novel had a leitmotif of the characters experiencing a feeling of "static" in their heads that I later on made into a sentient side character. I think I wrote a short play with a cannibalistic Guy Fieri. I started writing another play based around Sonic the Hedgehog where it was planned for Shadow to non-ironically become a rabbi, but frankly if you consider his character I do not think that's too far from canon.

I'm still percolating a project to do either alongside or after Songbird that's like Armistead Maupin's Tales of the City but with an all-robot cast. And the main character eventually transitions from a human-passing robot to some form of non-human looking machine and is much happier for it. Which I'm excited to put to paper.

#writing community #writeblr #writers on tumblr #on writing #authors of tumblr #writing #queer writers #writing asks

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nanowrimo · 1 year

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Seasoned Romance: A Great NaNoWriMo Project

Romance is a genre that everyone can write, no matter what other people may think! NaNo Participant Stella Fosse gives us advice on writing seasoned romance. Years ago, I read an article by a Romance author in her fifties advising her sister Romance writers that if they wanted to be published, they should create characters in their twenties. Shades of the Bronte sisters, forced to take male pen names! Fortunately, times have changed. With so many Romance readers past midlife, publishers have caught on and created a category called “Seasoned Romance.”

The Personal is Political Ageism is not exactly news to anyone over fifty. And studies have shown that a positive attitude about aging helps us live longer and healthier. Telling stories about the vivid lives of people our age is essential. If we want to change the cultural narrative, we are the ones to do it.

Why Seasoned Romance? By now, we have lived the role of romance character several times. We have known all kinds of people and witnessed their romantic fortunes. Autofiction was made for us: Mixing people, situations, and settings can lead to fascinating Romance. Plus, you get to write about sex. And Romance novels tend to be on the short side—perfect for NaNoWriMo. Not to mention, Romance sells a lot—more than Mystery and Science Fiction combined. Sex, money, and dishing your exes: what’s not to like?

How to Write Romance? Not every story that includes romance is a “Romance.” The genre expectations look like this:

Plot: The main plot in a genre Romance is the romance itself. There is an external plot—which would be the main plot in any other novel. But in a Romance, the back-and-forth in the relationship drives the story.

Characters: Each of the two main characters has a character flaw that makes them ambivalent about getting involved. They may have conflicts in goals and values (like the bookstore owner and the chain bookstore developer in “You’ve Got Mail”). And each main character has a sidekick—a confidante to share hopes and fears about the relationship.

Three Act Structure: Here’s a typical setup for a Romance novel.

Act One: Establish the lives of each main character before they meet. Engineer the meeting (the “meet cute”). Show the attraction and the conflict between the characters. Create an external situation that keeps them in each other’s lives throughout the story.

Act Two: Lots of ambivalence. The characters take turns chasing and running away. The external plot adds complexity. The sidekicks weigh in, to encourage or discourage the liaison. What looks like a final breakup occurs at the end of this act.

Act Three: Much soul-searching, resulting in each main character owning and resolving their character flaws. They bridge differences in goals and values, enjoy their mutual attraction (at mild, moderate, or spicy levels of heat), and begin a committed relationship.

Happy-Ever-After (or Happy-for-Now): For decades, Romance novels were expected to end with a big wedding. A Romance novel still must end with the main characters happily together. Often there is an epilogue, where we see the happy characters years after the dénouement.

But wait—I hear you say: Isn’t that awfully formulaic? Sure, but so is a sonnet. Structure can be liberating.

Victorians were scandalized by early Romance novels because they highlighted female passion. Yet the genre became the stereotyped province of thin, young, white, able-bodied heroines. More recently, it’s broadened to include stories about LGBTQ+ characters, polyamorous characters, and characters of color (Stacey Abrams writes Romance under the pen name Selena Montgomery). And with the advent of Seasoned Romance, we Writers of a Certain Age can tell vivid stories about characters like us.

Stella Fosse writes stories of vibrant women and teaches about writing boldly after midlife. Her books include:

Aphrodite’s Pen: The Power of Writing Erotica after Midlife (North Atlantic Books)

A story collection, The Erotic Pandemic Ball: Tales of Love in Lockdown

And her debut novel at age 68, Brilliant Charming Bastard

She has taught romance writing through Secure Senior Connections. Stella blogs at www.stellafosse.com. Follow her on Facebook, Twitter , LinkedIn, and Instagram. Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

#nanowrimo #writing #amwriting #writing tips #writing romance #by nano guest #stella fosse #writing advice #romance

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fireartandstylezine · 6 months

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What Happened to #Nanowrimo

A Micro Essay

By Mutiny Crinshaw, co-editor, Grinning Kitten Press

It often appears to me that people in the press & in society at large think of National Novel Writing Month, or Nanowrimo, as some cute little holiday-style project, if not on the level of Mother's Day, than at least Secretary's Day or National Donut Day. Fun, innocuous, something your quirky writer friend does.

That's a misperception. & the scandal which took down the forums & has Nanowrimo's Board of Directors scrambling proves that this perception is in error.

The rumors I have seen in Reddit & elsewhere in the Nano community indicate an abuse scandal. I will not dive into it; I am sure others can inform you much better than I can, & I am not privy to the most important details.

What I want to point out is that Nano isn't just some happy-fun project for your writer friends, although many of your writer friends also think that it is & can be forgiven for wanting to hang out with their other writer friends for this one month just to write.

I want to put Nanowrimo in its larger context.

What began as friends around a table wanting to Chase Those Words & Write a Novel was something anyone could have organized. You, me, your own friends. We organize little events like that all the time.

Nano simply had a certain social capital & gained a certain momentum.

The question of what creative types do with such momentum tells us a lot. It tells us a lot in the context of AI, the Arts, & late capitalism.

The choice of folks behind Nanowrimo was to take that momentum & create a 501(c)3, which is a nonprofit entity under US law.

The ease & lack of controversy around that choice exists in a continuum that constitutes all the rest, shaping the kinds and forms of abuse beyond the most illegal and egregious. It gives legal cover to the broader social harms.

Certainly choosing a nonprofit form is not a mistake on the level of "mistakes" that led to the kind of abuse rumored to be going on around Nano HQ, but it is not an unrelated mistake.

Because it is a mistake about power.

About control.

About bending people to your will.

Most of Nano runs off volunteer labor. Interns, unpaid regional coordinators, & the like.

It is a lot of work they do, year-round. Moderating. Writing grants. Chasing donors.

Meanwhile, HQ has worked with fundraising, PR, branding, & most of all selling memorabilia . . . & the best part of that is, you do not need to "win Nano" to participate in the shopping. Or the donations.

Another problem with a collective enterprise like Nano in our stage of late capitalism is that it encourages writers to hustle. (A phenomenon related to Large Language Models/ChatGPT/AI, but I will not be diving into that too much here.)

Successful hustlers - the REALLY successful ones - have social capital to burn, have wealthy loved ones & donor networks & credit (literal economic credit as well as social credit) that boosts their projects.

So while thousands of writers hunker down for the month of November to hustle their novel into being, the real hustlers at the top can hustle & make money in the name of The Arts.

The average Nano author will not get rich. Will not public unless it is through Amazon. Will work very hard for no money.

But who will make money off Nanowrimo?

Admin.

Thus, it should come as no surprise, if & when Nano HQ's abuse scandal(s) come more to light, that people have been harmed & abused.

The egregious harms lay atop a pervasive culture of exploitation which permeate nonprofits & shape our entire industry of cultural production.

Harm & abuse go hand-in-hand where charity work & volunteer labor are exploited.

The nonprofit-industrial complex provides legally-recognized covers for the harnessing of collective, creative spirit. It drives profits, offsets costs, & masks marketing & PR under a humanitarian guise. In the case of Nanowrimo, it yokes literacy & creativity for the profit of the few admins at the top.

This is "The Arts" in the US. Grifters preying on idealists. Incorporating. & if you are outside the US, you will not go untouched, for our nonprofits come for you & your culture as much as our for-profits do.

In conclusion, we ought to become & remain skeptical of any artistic endeavor that gains prominence under capitalism.

Whether that artistic endeavor promises a hip new movie studio, an artsy social media platform, a rising music label . . . or even a publishing press.

If the Art World & the mainstream media celebrate it, then you know it hates artists. It abuses writers. It milks us for profit.

The best way ahead for Nanowrimo will be for the unpaid regional leads to de-federate from HQ & create new, anti-capitalist enterprises. Artists and writers, we need to form collectives that will meet nonprofits & corporation in cultural combat. No words but class war <3

A rougher draft of this micro-essay was posted earlier on our Mastodon account. It has been edited for stylistic improvements and linguistic and intellectual clarity.

#nanowrimo #national novel writing month #anti capitalism #art #anarchism

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a-boros-named-seamus · 6 months

Text

A Wolfsblood Moon-NaNoWriMo Day 1

Prologue

Deep in the forbidding and magic-forged range of mountains known as the World's Horns, there sits a broad, fertile valley known as Ahngtir. Its lowland cities are lush with trade from the Moonsrest Sea and merchants passing between neighboring cities.

This story does not begin there.

Instead, we cast our gaze northward, to dark forests and windswept highlands when the wolves and winds howl in bone-chilling harmony and magic runs through society as thickly as mortar between bricks.

In these savage lands, two men whose names will echo for all of history are just beginning to write their sagas

Chapter 1

As I ran under leaf-laden boughs and the slowly growing pre-dawn light, I could feel the world shift around me.

The garish glows of night-colors faded from leaves and mushrooms as vibrant blooms started to unfurl. Hoots and howls trailed off as the first strains of birdsong started up, and even the feel of wind through my fur changed ever so gradually. Even the scenes shifted, the petrichor from the night's rain mingling with fragrant pollen and animal mush to paint me a picture of the world beyond the scant details of sight and sound.

To this I added my own scent and sound. My paws thundered on the cool dirt and my snarls heralded the snap of bone as I ate a rabbit. My scent sent the smaller animals that composed my breakfast running, and that made it all the sweeter when blood finally soaked my muzzle and still-warm meat slid down my gullet.

Once I sated myself, I took off on my patrol, using the blessings of my wolf's skin to search out any new dangers to the town and check up on known ones. Grimfeather and her adorable gryfflets were sated, the game available in the valley precluding them from more sapient suppers. The bandits lurking up in the old barrows were still behaving themselves after the last time we had to have a "Chat", even managing to avoid upsetting the treants.

There were whiffs of necromancy down at the battlefield graveyard along the Red Ford, though. That was deeply concerning, especially considering the gnarled scar of magic upon the land there. With that last check at the edge of the territory, I headed for home, the sun hanging low just above the horizon when I reached the gate, returning to my human flesh mid stride and grabbing my kilt from where i stashed it and wrapping the tartan cloth around myself so as not to scandalize the young maidens and bachelors. I managed to time it just right, greeting the guards at the gate by name as the scent of almost-done pastries wafting down the street from the bakery. By the time I reached it, the baker's lass was setting the pastries in the display, to be kept fresh and warm all day by the magic etched upon the glass.

"Morning, Ingrid," I said as the bell on the door jingled

"Oh, Arthur!" Instead of the pleasant, lilting greeting she used for customers, she practically squeaked out my name in a voice several octaves higher than her usual, blushing and smoothing her dress.

I just smiled and nodded "Yes, it is I. What's on the menu today?"

"Oh, it's all apple and pumpkin and cherry today," she said, pulling out a butcher's paper pouch, "I saved you a tart"

I took the pastry with a smile, bobbing my head and taking in the tart scent of the cherries, and then opened the paper and took a bite. "This is delicious, Ingrid! Tell your father thanks from me. And thank you"

With that, I took my leave, whistling as I walked up the road to the manor at the center of town. Like all structures in the Wolfswood, it was built for function first, with the details that displayed the wealth of its inhabitant coming in wards carved into the frame and lovingly made carvings on door frames and shutters rather than opulent carved marble or gold leaf. It felt the the whole town did. Solid and old.

I let myself in the back way, grabbed my pack off of a peg by the door, and drew myself a bath in the washroom. Runes at the joints of the old pipes drew water up from the well and heated it along the way. Perfect for washing off the grime of the forest. After washing and drying myself I dressed myself, pulling on my underthings and boots, then my tunic, and then pinning my kilt back on, making sure that everything sat right before walking down the wood paneled halls to the maproom.

Sitting behind the desk, draped in tartan in the same pattern as mine, save for the Ranger-Captain pin holding it in place was my mother, Ranger-Captain Brighid. Her knitting needles were clacking as she read over reports and wrote letters to be carried by raven to the smaller villages and thorpes in the area.

As I walked in and stood at parade rest she looked up and smiled "Good morning Arthur. How was your patrol?"

I set half of the pastry i got from ingrid on her desk "The valley is calm, save for some trobling traces of necromancy over by the Red Ford," I said, fidgeting with my hands behind my back as my eyes slid across the room, across the books on the shelves, the basket of yarn, the magically updated map of the area, and my mother's cluttered-but-clean desk.

She understood, not demanding my eye contact, saying "Well that's no good. We will have to put a watch on that area. Any other trouble?"

"No, mum. We'll have to keep an eye on the population of deer, but otherwise all is well," as I speak, she takes the tart and takes a bite, smiling at me as she swallows it.

"Good. Make your reports, and then you're free for a few hours," she said, as amusement warmed her features, "I know that women hold no interest for you, but let that Ingrid lass down gently, otherwise you'll have to start buying the pastries you bring me every morning"

That gets a chuckle from me. "Of course, mum. She knows, she's just nice."

The amusement then grows into mischief as she says "That is good. Wouldn't want her to be disappointed when you and Cathair finally realize that you two are in love"

I have to take a moment to recover from choking on the water i was drinking out of my flask "Mother!" It comes out as a startled yelp "He's just my friend!" I left the "closest" part out, since that would just encourage her "And, in any case, I'm not even looking for love right now," I say, trying to regain my composure.

Outside the maproom window, across the main square, there was a whoosh as the smith, Arden, brought the forge-fire to life with his magic, passed down from master to apprentice for centuries. If Arden was up, it meant Cathair, his apprentice, was not far behind.

"Well, I will not keep you. Go enjoy your morning, and we'll go take a look at the Red Ford this afternoon."

I gave my mother a smile and a nod, and turned, heading out of the room and then out to the square, thinking warmly about Cathair.

Chapter 2

As I stepped out into the square, i breathed in the warm air. A relic of older days, it was encircled by a tall wall, with guardposts set atop and gates where the streets flowed out into town. Within the wall's circumference were all the important services of the town. The master smith, the post office, a tavern, the winter storehouses, a small library, the apothecary, a few shrines, and even a mage's tower all sat inside the walls. There was another, stouter, wall around the rest of the town, of course, but all of the important buildings were gathered in the main square. In times of war or calamity, the buildings in the main square could house the whole town, with a bit of difficulty. The skills of Arden, and his necessity to keeping the rangers and guard well equipped, meant that he got pride of place directly across from the manor. He usually preferred to prepare the forge by himself, and Cathair's skills were such that his abilities could be trusted not to slip. Which meant that I could steal a good half hour of his time each morning.

Cathair was sitting on the porch, eating porridge and sipping at a new favorite kind of tea of ours that one of the traders brought up from down south, called coffee. As always, i stopped to take the whole of him in, from his thick black hair and beard, to his piercing gold eyes contrasting his green skin, to his strong, tusked, jaw and muscular torso and across his powerful arms. Even his clothes i fixed in my memory, a fusion of kilt and apron popular among smiths and other craftspeople over a long sleeved tunic, rolled up past his elbows, revealing hard won scars from his training as a smith. Upon seeing me, those gold eyes lit up and a grin split his face under his tusks, mirrored on my own face.

"Arthur!" he called, sitting up and setting down his spoon.

I crossed the distance between myself and the porch in a few quick strides, grasping the forearm he offered me and saying "Cathair, it's good to talk to you! I've missed having the chance the last few days!"

"Even if you hadn't been running all over hither and yon on four paws, I'd have been too busy with the forge to talk" he said, sitting back down and pouring me a cup of coffee.

"Well, that is how it goes. It ended up being a lot of work for not much, but blazes if the evidence didn't have us all fooled."

"You're telling me. Arden had me hammering out weapons and shields left and right only for it to end up being a teenager who misused a transformation spell scroll and ended up a wyvern"

I chuckle, taking a sip of my coffee after taking a moment to pull some of the heat out and toss it into the air, and say "Well, the armory can never be too well stocked. One never knows what may lurk in the deep wilds."

Cathair nods, silent for a moment as he finishes his porridge. "Well, I should go help Arden," he says as he gets up.

I get up too. "So soon? Doesn’t he get ornery when you do that?"

"And? He needs the help. See you tomorrow for our day off?"

I felt my lips pulling into a wide grin. "Wouldn't miss it"

He then walks off, doing small, interesting, stretches to prepare for his day.

#nano 2023 #nanowrimo #orc #gay werewolf #mlm yearning #fantasy #adventure #romance

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kcscribbler · 5 months

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3, 5 and 29 for the writer asks, please!

Ooh, fun! Thank you, anon!

Full Ask List Here

3. What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

However Improbable, my Star Trek TOS/ACD Sherlock Holmes crossover written for NaNoWriMo a loooooong time ago.

It was my very first TOS fic (why I chose to do a novel-length crossover as my initiation is anyone's guess), and to this day is still probably the most fun I've had writing anything. I'd like to think I balanced the characterization of both universes fairly well, but the reader is the judge.

Crossovers can be tricky, and they're not for everyone, but I had far too much fun with this one. I will always remember it fondly.

5. What’s a fic idea you’ve had that you will never write?

At one point, I had a Star Trek TOS Alternate Universe series plotted out based on the OG Mission Impossible television show (from the same general time period as TOS, and as fabulous in its own way). The show actually featured Leonard Nimoy for two of the seasons, and it's generally delightful. Much more so than the big-budget films of the same franchise, in my humble opinion. 8/10, would recommend.

(Plot under the cut)

If I remember correctly, the AU started on the premise of Operation-Annihilate going badly wrong (an idea which later morphed into An Equitable Trade, FWIW), whereupon Jim Kirk was quietly discharged from Starfleet service in the ensuing scandal, and Spock basically said live long and fuck off with that and followed him. In this AU, the rest of the crew weren't originally aboard the Enterprise, and were picked up along the way through the ensuing ridiculous adventures across the galaxy, per typical MI format.

I actually had one 'episode' partially written a long time ago, before I got smart enough to back things up online, and lost it in a laptop crash. RIP my most ridiculous idea.

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

This was cut last month from one of my Whumptober fics, as I decided to go a couple different directions with the TOS movie era instead.

“What on earth are you doing.”

Seated on the couch with at least a dozen takeout containers of various shapes and sizes stacked in perfectly neat, consistently spaced rows on the coffee table, Spock raises an eyebrow at him. “It was indeed, on Earth. During our recent sojourn in the Terran past, you informed Dr. Taylor that I found Italian food to be pleasing.”

“…Yes? Is that why you ordered what looks like the entire vegetarian menu from Angelo’s?”

“I must have a full data set in order to confirm a valid hypothesis.”

“Of course.” He doesn’t even bother to hide a smile. “But your face tells me it hasn’t been confirmed.”

“Correct.” Spock looks mildly uneasy about this discrepancy, though he indicates the barely-touched cartons with what looks like resignation. “I admit to feeling a slight sense of disillusionment, in the matter. It would seem that either you were in error, or that my taste for such things has changed during the process of my refusion.”

Jim’s too tired to do this standing up, right now, so he clambers over a hilariously untidy stack of of cartons on the rug (clearly overflow from the table) in order to collapse on the couch as well, exhaling in a long breath of relief at being able to get off his feet for a few minutes.

“I mean, it’s certainly possible your tastes have changed, Spock. But I think it’s more likely that you just haven’t got the right dishes.”

“How precisely is one to know which are ‘right’.”

Jim turns his head, still resting on the back of the couch, and gestures at the pile of cartons. “You like Italian, typically pasta; but you dislike strong garlic flavor. Since garlic is pretty ubiquitous in Italian food, when we order in or go out, we typically ask them to make yours without much of it.”

“Ah.”

“Angelo’s has a pumpkin ravioli this time of year that you refuse to admit is your favorite, because favorites are illogical.”

“I did not see this option on the menu.”

“That’s because since it’s seasonal, it’s not on the carryout menu,” he replies. “You’ve complained more than once about having to call and actually talk to someone to order it, instead of using the automated system.”

“I did not recall that detail with any clarity,” Spock admits, looking more downcast than before.

He reaches over to put a steadying hand on Spock’s arm. “You’ve recalled nearly every detail that is important; we can deal with the rest. That’s what I’m here for,” he says quietly.

“I have taken enough advantage of your patience in the matter.”

“Incorrect. You’ve never taken advantage of me or anyone else, that I can recall. I’m not sure it’s even in your nature.”

“That appears to be a highly subjective assessment fueled by an emotional viewpoint.”

“Well, I am an emotional human. So that viewpoint is logical for me.” Seeing Spock’s clearly baffled expression, he hastens to add, “But from the Vulcan viewpoint: I do have all my memories, so I think my opinion should be trusted more than yours in the matter.”

Spock considers this for a moment, and then nods. “That is eminently logical.”

#star trek the original series #star trek tos #sherlock holmes #acd holmes #fanfic writing #ask box

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