Been writing my novel.
Stopped just before the protagonist - our hero - is to masturbate over a dead body. The corpse of a woman he may come to love. The woman, of course. Not the corpse.
I wrote it all for chapter one, though I believe that when I do the first re-write, it would fit in somewhere in Chapter 4 or thereabouts.
I started off the project scoffing at the snail's pace of most novels and had wanted it to have a feel almost like 24.
In the first chapter, which is now overly long, the scenes had changed and switched in two countries over six months. Five locations. Should be five chapters. Maybe I'll do some King padding. Stephen King's novels are usually a thin storyline with over-descriptions of everything.
And somehow, I need to fit in Immanuel Kant in there. And drag queens. Several mysteries, and a few conspiracies.
Originally wanted to finish it in one month, by the end of November, but it seems that this may take several months to complete.
So it won't be a NaNoWriMo novel, I believe.
Am reading Neil Gaiman's The Graveyard Book and am considering changing the language altogether. The Graveyard Book was inspired by and sounds so much like Kipling's The Jungle Book.
Mine, well, I was hoping for Mein Kampf, but it doesn't suit the story. Not at all.
Oh, what a bother.
I will return to Nobody Owens. Started reading after lunch, when I should have been working, and I dare say I will finish reading The Graveyard Book in a couple of hours.
After that, sleep.