My Nanowrimo
A good few years ago I attempted to do the Nanowrimo. If you don't know, this involves you attempting to write 'a novel' of over 50k words in November. I had a vague idea of a story. Time travel to the late 18th century. Fantasy beings, alternate history/future, magic, life and death! For my fun, I included Robert Burns into this heady mixture. I completed November with over 50k words. There were times it was a huge slog. Other times it was as the great Terry Pratchett said "The most fun you can have on your own"
I had not even gotten to the point where the characters had time travelled. I left the unfinished mess alone for a year. The following year I did the same again and this time it was Part II. Another 50k words but I completed it. It is all the readability of a first draft, i.e completely unreadable and all over the place. There are howling spelling mistakes and plot holes all over the shop.
I sent Part I to a member of my family who is an award-winning writer asking for some constructive feedback. I was expecting a couple of words, instead, I got back a full review with NOTES. I went back to read some of it this week as it was Burns Night and it triggers me to think about that daft story.
I am going to post the opening few paragraphs below. I am going to leave the howling spelling mistakes, the terrible grammar as an example of a WIP and a first draft. I am thinking about getting some feedback from other people, but I need to build up the courage to do that first. So here below in the opening paragraph of a yet Untitled story, I wrote years ago.
I introduce "The Roman" who is an immortal human who has returned to Edinburgh to seek out a Witch. ( Told you it was fantasy). He has sensed that something bad is about to happen and he needs her help
Roman walked to the top of Calton hill and breathed in the air. He last did this nearly two centuries ago. Then if the wind was blowing the wrong way and you chose the wrong day; you could smell the dreadful “Reek” that gave the city its unfortunate nickname. Now all he could smell was the smoke belching out of chimney pots and exhaust fumes from cars and buses. He looked out across to the Castel, that has not changed much since his last time here. The old Town spilled down from it, some of the buildings had not changed that much either. A little neater perhaps he thought. He closed his eyes and listend to the sound of the city, the gentle rumble of traffic, the occasional horn; the last time he did this all he could hear was sound of cattle. Time moves on, but you don’t. For moment he felt the heavy weight of his curse bearing down on him. Enough! I am here for reason. He gathered his thoughts and walked down the hill passing the Cockerell and Playfair folly. He shook his head , Walter Scott had a lot to answer for
He continued down the hill and on too
Princess Street where the Saturday crowds were bustling about their business.
Edinburgh was even busier as the Festival and its young upstart the Fringe were
now in full swing. He walked past the Walter Scott monument and stared at its
gothic magnificence. Walter would have
adored it, though knowing him would have found some sort fault with it. Even as
young man there was that cockiness that he was always right. He could hear rock music playing on a radio
that a group of long haired youths were listening to. The girls were dancing round their male
friend as they sang “Lets spend the night together..” laughing. Older people
shook their heads. Roman heard several comments “Bloody disgrace” “Blame the
parents” wafting past him. He could also smell the auroma of hashish. He smiled
he smoke that herb a few times in the past. Not
now though, those days are gone.
He strode up past The Royal Scottish Academy
of Art on the mound. The mound had been created by the dregs of the old Nor
Loch. One thing going for this modern city is that
got rid of the cess pit of disease. He walked up to the old town and the Royal
Mile . That had changed for the better, no longer the filth that flowed down
each side. Smart cobble stones and replaced the dirty track that run from the
Castel down to the Holyrood Palace at the bottom of The Mile. He stood at the
cross roads and saw both the past and present merging into one. There were people coming towards him dressed
in familiar garb
they were singing bawdy songs...
“Burns! You like Burns?”. He shook himself
from his reverie to see a young man in
wig dressed head to as Robert Burns. The
man smiled and placed a piece of paper in his hand “Aye you like a man o culture.
Tonight at the Black Bull Grassmarket a tale of lust and love. The story of
Burns come along man!” Roman did not even have time to answer as the group
continued their merry way up the Royal Mile handing at flyers to the
unsuspecting tourists who all stood and gawped at the flyer for few seconds
before moving on. Rab would be tickled
pink to know that he was being celebrated about his love life. They should do
show about what he really got up to. Roman watched them as the weaved up
the Mile that if they encountered what looked like locals they were given a
wide birth, the more unfortunates that couldn’t scowled and deposited the paper
in the nearest bin. Roman smiled, the Edinburgh locals were still a grumpy
bunch even now.
He continued on weaving his away along the
South Bridge, this had not been here on his last visit, though he recognised
some of the buildings as he stood and looked down on the Cowgate, he had lived
there for while. Then it had been a place where all the well to do had wanted
to live, now it looked uninhabited apart from a few bars. He smiled, pubs that
was something that had not changed in Edinburgh. Every street seem to have some
sort pub. Though he noted they seemed to be a good deal more civilised than the
ones he remembered.
He walked on till he arrived Greyfriars Kirk with Bobby’s Statue at the top of Candlemakers row. He touched the dog statue as he moved on a group Americans made ooh and ahh sounds at the story that was being told by their guide. He looked over to the Kirk. If only they knew what other secretes lay under there. He started to walk down Candlemaker row and stopped outside what looked like gift shop. It was called “Wyred Times” was scrawled in Gothic lettering above the door. A family were just entering as stood looking in the window. Judging by their language their American. “gee hon lets have look in here, says here that they can tell the future? Wantacha know your future hon?” said the slightly large wife. The equally large husband looked non plussed and deadpanned back “Yea Hon I know my future, it involves that bar and man giving me a large glass of scotch” He laughed hard as did she scolding him. The son looked excited as he looked in the window “Wow they got Skulls! I wanna Skull. Kanna get Skull mom?” He didn’t hear the rest of the conversation as they disappeared into the shop. He would have to wait till they had finished. All the same he followed them into the shop.
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