Tuesday, November 3, 2015

The Dangers of Drinking and Writing, Plus Some NaNWriMo Day 2 Stuff

If you were closely following my Twitter activity last night, you might have noticed a couple of tweets about vodka drinks, another tweet about distractions, and then sudden silence. No Day 2 updates, words counts or Day 2 blog post. I obviously learn nothing.  I should have known that as much as I struggled with distraction yesterday whilst still sober, my tipsy to drunk attention span would be even shorter.



After two drink time was slippery. I got distracted by Wheel of Fortune, then Jeopardy!, then The Antique Roadshow, and next thing I know it was 1:30 in the morning and Day 2 was gone. I wrote about 500 words yesterday. I won't say only because any number of words I write gets me closer to the 50,000. Still I'm about 1,000 words short of the total Day 2 goal, which makes Day 3 a day of slightly hungover catch-up.




But I'm a big girl and I'm wearing my girl pants, even if my shirt is on inside out for some reason. My NaNoWriMocha is brewing and I have at least 100 words brimming at the edge of my brain. Only 2,500, or so, to go for Day 3. *le sigh* Seriously, why do I keep falling for this NaNoWriMo thing every year? It's just exacerbating my writing problem.

In other news, don't forget to vote today, if that's a thing that is happening where you are. And by don't forget, I mean actually make an effort, even though it's not a presidential thing. Every vote matters. Plus you get sticker!

Oh, yeah, I still need to post my Day 2 words. Here you go:

The Horrorphiles by Stephanie Thompson, 537 words
NaNoWriMo Day 2 (read Day 1)

“Take the remake for Halloween 2. When Rob Zombie got a free hand, he ruined the sequel to his great remake of Halloween. One remake changed very little, the other…” She’d been gesturing with her hands which she wasn’t actually aware of until just then in the middle of her sentence she didn’t finished. Now, she stared at it trying to figure out why it was moving. Becky pushed another margarita underneath the fascinating hand.
“But even in his first Halloween, he added enough new material to be different and interesting. Unobtrusive but enhancing. He didn’t just remake a movie he made a whole new movie with a different point of view. If you want to talk Halloween 2, you have to ask whether it was meant to be a remake of the 1979 sequel and a completely different sequel to his own Halloween.”
Veronica stopped listening, it was getting too difficult to follow the words people saying, much less comprehend them. Instead she tried to get her bearings again by looking around, the world was starting to swim a little bit.
Los Toltecos was a small, locally owned restaurant painted bright yellow with giant murals of aztec warriors and cacti. Frilly paper banners in the color of the Mexican flag hung from the ceiling. The were in the bar, on two high tables pushed together and eight tall chairs. She just realized the nachos in front of her weren’t actually hers but for the table which made her feel slightly guilty for getting slightly angry at Dan for eating what she thought at the time were her nachos. Her latest margarita was half gone, she needed to slow down. She took a loaded chip from the nacho plate and shoved, mostly, generally, in her mouth.
The rest of The Horrorphiles were still talking about God knows what now. Dan was pushing his long stringy blonde hair behind his ears. The hair kept sliding free, she guessed because it was too greasy to stay put. He was talking at George who a had a chip crumb stuck in his beard. Veronica reached out and brushed the crumb away, they barely paused the conversation. 
“At this point in the cinema everything is a reboot, remake, or reimagining of something else before it. There are no more original stories to tell.”
“Bullshit,” said Becky.
Veronica phased out of listening again. This time mostly because she just wasn’t interested. Who could be? Why were they even talking about this? It seemed like someone said the same thing or something similar every week.
Kurt and Carlos were talking about something completely off topic, some new SyFy series or movie. Carlos kept wiping beer bubbles from his beard and Kurt was pushing his thick square glasses up his nose.
Everyone was earnestly discussing something with someone. Even Becky was engaged with Tom, Dick and Harry, in between ordering too many margaritas. Was this really the main passion in her life? The hobby and/or occasional career that had pushed away three (was it four now?) boyfriends? What was she even doing with her life?
A waitress brought out another plate of nachos and another round of drinks. Veronica ordered one more drink, just for good measure.

Veronica woke up the next morning feeling like her head weighed a ton, specifically like a ton of bricks dropped off the Empire State Building and then crashed into a bus. She couldn’t even open her eyes at first, like they’d been pasted shut. When she finally did, it was only the right one and she was so depressed by what she saw that she immediately shut it again. The rush of last night’s memories came in like a late rush hour express train passengers boarding an overcrowded car.