Dear NaNoWriMo, Please Suck My Novel.

Movies and loud crowing.

You can always tell I’m feeling sick or crappy because I refuse to write in my journal, answer the phone, return calls or emails, or write in the blog. It’s a wounded animal thing. Today (stretching back to last night) I watched the first three Alien movies, and I have to say #1 THEY ARE AWESOME. But why does this matter?

Each one is awesome in its own way, and always leading somewhere; to wit: while the first one is boring, it does a very capable arc of the wussy rule-follower becoming a badass. You wouldn’t even know she was the main character until really Act III.

Surprises come at a phenomenal rate (“Slayer’s a robot?”), just like the hits keep coming: “There’s an alien! Wait, there’s an alien and X guy is basically a traitor! No wait, the ship’s about to blow up so now you have to fight your way out! No, wait, you think you’re safe but there’s a whole other thing about to happen! Dude, you RULE!”

The second one is like, “Fuck all that alien nonsense! I’m James Cameron and I approve this storyline where the chick from the first movie has been so traumatized by the experiences of the first movie that she’s now a total nutbar Kassandra! Just like Linda was in Terminator 2! Same movie! Fuck it! No wait, you’re totally going to have to go there again and it makes sense! Now there’s a kid! Now there’s another traitor just like before! Corporations are evil! Now you’re Voltron! Oh, not all robot people are bad! The love interest is totally dead and now the asshole is your love interest! And you saved him! And the kid! By becoming Voltron! Bad ASS!”

The third one is like, “Remember in the first one how there were a bunch of kinda guys and one pissy girl, and the second one was a bunch of Marines and you had to become a dude just to keep up? Okay, get this. You’re on a planet of male life-prisoners, all your buds from before are dead, and they’re not just dudes, but YY chromasomes, which can’t happen! That’s just how in Dudeville you’re now Exiled! Fuck that guy! Now he’s dead! Now everybody dies! You’re in charge for no reason except your badassitude! Uh oh, bun in the oven.” The cool thing about the Extended Edition of this one is that the thing totally doesn’t come out of the ribcage at the end — it’s all about her sacrifice. Very different. FUCK YEAH!

So awesome, in fact, that I was able to leverage their awesomeness against my depression: I was not allowed to watch the 4th until I had completed five sections in Quite Enough Antarctica. Whatever was going on, I did six. We’ll see if they’re any good. Either way, that’s 5300 or so words I was avoiding for the last few weeks like a bitch in a boat. Written in about 5 hours, which is why NaNoWriMo can suck my own personal novel, even though I think it’s a fantastic, great idea for people writing spec, particularly those who are absurdly talented writer friends of mine.

So also? Catching up. Hmm. In brief, I saw the film Saw, and while I can’t really recommend it except to say that it’s TOTALLY AWESOME in its suckiness and worth watching as if it were the best thing ever. Also, like I needed another paranoia. Now I can’t leave my house without thinking I’m going to be abducted and forced to make painful moral choices.

And…that’s it. That’s all that’s happened in the last week or so. I think it’s because I’m back from my vacation from unemployment but haven’t really buckled down to an actual schedule like I had before. So it’s free-floating time, which I’m bad at and which kind of bums me out. So no more of that.

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