NaNoWriMo2018: Viiden päivän fiilis / Five day Feelings

In English Below

Alku aina hankala? Ei oikeastaan tällä kertaa, vaikka en lähtenyt liikkeelle kovin hurjilla sanamäärillä. Fiilistelin enemmän maailmaa ja henkilöhahmoja. Tarinalle hahmottui runko, mutta en kiinnittänyt siihen vielä juurikaan huomiota.

Enimmäkseen tuntui varmaan siltä, että annoin itselleni luvan tehdä jotain minulle merkittävää. En välittänyt pyykkivuoresta tai unirytmistä. Kun teksti alkoi viikonlopun aikana rullaamaan, annoin palaa ja päivittäiset sanamäärätkin tuplaantuivat tarvittavasta.

Enimmäkseen tunnustelin sitä, miltä tuntui istua joka päivä töiden jälkeen kotikoneelle ja laskea sormet näppäimistölle. Tuntuiko pakolta vai miellyttävältä. Oliko se jotain, mitä halusin tehdä vai jotain, mitä piti tehdä? Tuntuiko helpolta vai väkinäiseltä?

Kirjoitin lineaarisesti. NaNoWriMo tuntui oikealta paikalta testata kirjoittamista tarinan alusta loppuun. Tätä tapaa suosin joskus kauan sitten, kun tarinat saivat rullata paperille nykyistä vapaammin. Kaikkien opintojen ja kokeilujen jälkeen tapani kertoa tarinoita on muuttunut suunnitelmallisemmaksi palapelinrakentamiseksi, joten lineaarinen lähestymistapa tuntui yllättävän vieraalta.

Mitä ensimmäinen vajaa viikko NaNoWriMoa sitten opetti minulle? Ainakin sen, että tekstin alkuun on helppo jäädä jumittelemaan ja jaarittelemaan. Olen kirjoittanut jo useamman sivun eikä tarina suinkaan ole vielä lämmennyt mihinkään, tuskin edes kipinöinyt. Marraskuun jälkeen alun tiivistäminen kuuluu ehdottomasti editointilistalle.

Tarinani alkaa näillä sanoilla:

Eemil kuuli äänen ensimmäisen kerran lentosataman baarissa. Hän oli juuri saanut eteensä höyryävän lautasellisen kirkasliemistä kalamuhennosta, kun hänen sydämessään rasahti.

Sanoja nyt: 9 363
Matkaa tavoitteeseen: 40 637

In English:

Is starting always the hardest part? Not really this time, even I didn’t start with very high word counts. I designed the world and the characters. The story was starting to frame but I didn’t think it too much yet.

Mostly I tried to understand how it felt to start writing every day after work. Did it felt compulsive or comfortable? Was it something I wanted to do or something I had to do? Did it feel easy or pressuring?

Mostly it felt like I finally allowed myself to do something important to me. I didn’t care about the undone laundry or my sleeping schedules. When the text started to flow, I let go and doubled my daily word count.

I wrote the story linearly. NaNoWriMo felt the right place to test writing from the beginning to the end. It’s the way I used to prefer a long time ago when the stories were able to roll out more freely. After all my creative writing studies and experiments, my way to tell the stories has become more systematic puzzle building, so the linear approach seemed surprisingly strange.

What’s the first days of NaNoWriMo taught me? Well, it is easy for me to get stuck at the beginning of the text and hang in there way too long. I’ve already written several pages and the story certainly not yet warmed up to anything, hardly even sparked. After November, the compression of the beginning is definitely on the edit list.

The novel starts with these words:

Eemil heard the sound for the first time when he was sitting at the tavern of the air terminal. He had just received a steaming plate of Bouillabaisse when his heart started to rustle.

Word count now: 9 363
Words to go: 40 637

NaNoWriMo2018: Vieterisydän / Clockwork Heart

In English Below

NaNoWriMo on kirjaimellisesti nurkan takana. Huomenna se alkaa. On siis aika kertoa, mitä aion kirjoittaa. Pitemmittä puheitta:

16-vuotiaalla Eemilillä on vieterikoje sydämensä paikalla. Kun mekaanisen sydämen tikitys muuttuu rahinaksi, Eemilille selviää, että hänen sydämensä rattaat ovat murtuneet ja sydän on vaarassa hajota. Ystäviensä Albinin ja Lucasin avulla Eemil seilaa ilmalaiva Auran ja sen erikoislaatuisen miehistön matkassa etsimään henkilöä, joka voisi korjata hänen sydämensä. Samaan aikaan pimeät voimat lähtevät liikkeelle, sillä kukapa ei haluaisi käsiinsä ihmeellistä kojetta, jolla on kyky pitää ihminen hengissä. Mutta tämä on vasta steampunkia ja teslapunkia yhdistelevän seikkailun alku.

In English:

NaNoWriMo is right around the corner. It begins tomorrow. So it is time to reveal what I’m going to write.

16 years old Eemil has a clockwork machine where his heart should be. When the ticking of the mechanical heart starts to scrape, Eemil finds out his heart is failing. With the help of his friends, Albin and Lucas Eemil sails away with airship Aura and its odd crew to look for someone who could fix his heart. At the same time, dark forces are moving because everybody wants to get their hands on the spectacular machine that has the power to keep a human alive. But that is just a very beginning of a steampunk/teslapunk adventure.

Moskiitot – Lyhäri englanniksi / Mosquitos – Short Story in English

Lyhyesti Suomeksi: Moskiitot on tarina, jota kirjoitamme yhdessä ystäväni kanssa. Alkuperäinen idea on hänen. Se on kunnianosoitus mahtavalle Arnold Schwarzeneggerille ja ensimmäinen osa höntsäilemäämme ”Kusipää kometaja” -sarjaa, kirjoittamista ihan vain hauskanpidon nimissä.

Preface: Mosquitos is a story we wrote together with my friend. Original story is by him. It’s a tribute to the great Arnold Schwarzenegger, and the first part of our story ”Asshole Commander”, a series that we are writing just for fun.

He tastes blood in his mouth. Probably his own, but in the end, he can’t be sure. Bodycount is getting higher. The aliens in their advanced combat suits are blowing up into green goo mixed with the red thick blood of his own soldiers. But his mind is on his mission, nothing to do with honor or winning or not even getting out of here alive. He just doesn’t care, not for the humankind, nor the planet. It’s the prize he is after selfish and eager, and as an asshole, like he is, with a pure conscience.

he is proceeding with poised steps. More aliens and men are staying down than getting up until there is no one standing but him. He steps over the corpses, the useless bodies of the meager men who thought they would fight for the greater good and followed their commander to a very well paid, but a total suicide mission, no questions asked. The fools. Like he would ever give a fuck.

The only thing on his mind is the alien artifact. The one he has been searching for. The one that the veterans have been whispering for so long his ears have started to ring and whisper a different kind of story to his mind. If he finds it he can have whatever he wishes for. And he wishes from the bottom of his selfish dark mind to be the one who gets to hold the artifact. Gets to have the one and only desire that the artifact will ever grant.

he leaves his men behind without any feelings and steps in the alien ship. The bridge is full of white light and high technology but he ignores it all. he has eyes only for the artifact. It glows in the middle of the bridge calling him like a siren. Speaking him with the language only he can understand. Before he touches the artifact he closes his eyes. Maybe its the taste of the blood, the smell of the battle or just his selfish mind, but he dreams about killing the creatures he hates the most, sucking shit fuck mosquitos making his life intolerable with their whimper and bloodthirst. When he finally touches the artifact he is already killing mosquitos in his head. He enters an empty warehouse with heavy arsenal and unlimited ammo blasting away mosquitos left and right and killing thousands with one shot. Happily walking through the warehouse shooting and killing.

As his finger meet the artifact he feels a sharp shock. He flies across the bridge and hits his head when landing on the floor and his eyes shut. the last thing he sees is the artifact blinking like a beacon before it depletes.

When he wakes up he sees the warehouse. It looks like the one he imagined but bigger. much bigger. Next, to him, there is a crate full of guns and ammo. He smirks and starts to choose what to take. He’s like a kid in a candy store picking up a minigun, hand cannon, and heavy shotgun. Hanging bandoliers over his shoulders. Finally, after all the battles he has led and survived with his independent organization this feels finally a reward, mindless killing spree where he wouldn’t have to save anybody or anything. Fuck people, this was the real deal. Just for fun.

When he feels he is fully armed, he steps to the door and smiles like a maniac. He is ready.

He kicks the door in, reflects the warehouse with a fast gaze, mosquitos everywhere, and starts blasting. The burnt smell from the weapons, the overwhelmed sound of the flying insects, the feel of killing, it’s almost too good to tolerate, it almost gets him off. He enters the warehouse shooting left and right, killing those bloodthirsty monsters like a soldier he should have always been, mean clean killer machine. It’s like a kickass dream and he’s living it.

but it won’t take long before the empowering godlike killing turns into panic. There are just too many of them. He gets swarmed by thousands and thousands of mosquitos that slowly sucks him dry. Every mosquito takes its turn sticking its needle-sharp stinger through his skin and sucking a small amount of his blood. But that happening ten thousand, even hundred thousand times makes him feel pale and dizzy. He’s about to die. He knows it, feels it in every inch of his pitch-dark soul. He makes ease with it. He’s ready to take his final breath… and then he sees it, a big bastard mosquito with a military hat ordering mosquitos to attack. He stares at the leader mosquito and suddenly he feels happy. With all his final strength he loads his final round in his shotgun looks at the big mosquito and pulls the trigger. His shot blows the leader mosquito into pieces. That’s the final thing he sees, before he falls down dead and dry, a blissful smile on his lips.