…Wait, What?

So, in case you didn’t know, WordPress (the lovely site that hosts this blog) has a stats dashboard that lets you know how many people viewed your blog, and how they got there. There’s one panel that shows what search engine terms people used that led to your blog. Today, I was greeted with this:

InsectI don’t know what should bother me more: that someone actually searched for this, or that this search led to my blog…

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The Marathon Ends

As I’d sort of expected, it didn’t last nearly as long as I’d thought it would. In the end, I managed 4,924 words in four hours, which is nothing to sneeze at. I’ll probably be posting an excerpt from the first draft of “Street Food” soon.

In the end, it wasn’t my willpower or my stamina that failed me. What happened was, in the metaphorical twelfth mile, I started to get shin splints, and then the marathon was canceled on account of rain, and I realized that it was probably for the best. I feel only mildly disappointed: four hours of constant writing was more of a strain on my flimsy sanity than I really need.

Okay…I guess I’ll go of and do something “productive.” Damn it!

Really, A Marathon

The big day’s here! The Sunday Writing Marathon will begin shortly. I’ll be doing occasional updates here. Wish me luck!

Update: A Marathon

As far as I can tell, the Sunday Writing Marathon will go ahead as planned (although, I’m thinking I’ll make it an eight to ten hour event, twelve is starting to seem a bit much). Although now, I’ve lost any opportunity for comfortable boredom with the idea, since I’ve decided I will not in fact be spending that time working on my current novel project, which I’ve decided to put on hold for the time being, since basically, I’m sick of the boring-ass main character and the boring-ass plot makes me want to punch myself in the nose.

In other words, now I have two frightening ordeals: trying to come up with a great, inspiring novel idea in the next sixteen hours, and then writing it for eight to ten hours. So, for anybody who was worried that this wasn’t going to be as painful, stupid, and humiliating as running a real marathon, it’s your lucky day!

A Marathon

Not a real marathon. Oh god no. For the time being, I’m content that I’ve actually lost enough weight to see my ankles without bending down (much). No, in typical Life of an English Major fashion, I’m talking about a writing marathon. Since I’ve yet to come up with a suitable topic for the Infinite Novel, I had a slightly saner and much stupider idea: why not spend an entire day writing? Because there’s no way banging on a keyboard and staring at a screen for twelve hours could hurt anybody, right?

Here’s the plan: this Sunday, I’ll get up, eat breakfast, and then write all day. From nine in the morning to nine at night. Twelve hours of constant writing, stopping only long enough to pee, guzzle coffee, gorge on premature Halloween candy, and clutch my ruined fingers and weep.

If all goes well, check my Twitter profile on September 27th. In between finger-ruining and frustrated head-banging, I’ll be posting updates.

(I love how I wrote this whole post with a straight face, as though I have, like, actual readers)

Can it be…?

Yes it can. I am now officially an English major. Judging by the pretty much complete lack of mathematics on the site, I’m thinking this is a bit like coming out of the closet: the only one who’s surprised is the person who’s actually coming out. Not that I know anything about that. I’m a manly man. Couldn’t you tell?

Anyway, I don’t expect many changes other than the title. I still plan to ramble on about NetLogo models, spout random musings, and (possibly) screw around with a lot more dry ice. Glory awaits!

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The Infinite Novel

While I was sitting around thinking about my latest project (I’m making another crack at writing and revising a novel), I had a silly idea, and as so often happens, rather than dismiss it without a second thought, I thought, “Well hey, that’s kind of interesting.”

The silly idea is this: an unfinishable project, a novel that never ends, that I keep writing until I grow old and die. (I know what you’re thinking: “That didn’t get caught by your silliness filter?” To that, I say: “I have a very porous silliness filter. You know, in case that wasn’t obvious.”) The Internet makes this a lot more practical than it would otherwise be. Here’s how I see it: when I sit down to my daily writing session (thanks to Stephen King for teaching me about that, by the way; a scheduled daily writing session has done me a lot of good), I hammer out another sentence or paragraph or page or chapter of the novel. And then, I just don’t stop. I keep writing, and the story keeps unspooling itself in my mind. The major factor that’ll determine whether or not I actually attempt this is whether or not I can find a suitable premise for an infinite story. After all, I don’t want it to just be some sort of Gödelian “A Thousand and One Nights.” Some planning is obviously necessary before I even consider the idea.

More news as events warrant.

(Note: I was this close to trying to write an infinite epic poem, but then I remembered my poetic skills are confined to the writing of goofy limericks.)