A piece of paper, a prediction and a grant

Well, this came in the mail the other day...

It also arrived with a little hand written note from Melissa Edwards, the managing editor, congratulating me on my 3rd 3 Day Novel entry.  The certificate will be tacked to the bulletin board with the other two along with  this:

 

That is my best guess at the identity of the winner of the 2010 3 Day Novel Contest.  Here's a hint - it's not me.

This afternoon I headed off to our township's council chambers for a little meeting and ran into one of the reporters for the local paper.  He has entered the 3 Day Novel Contest in the past and we spoke of the results, our respective efforts and how there doesn't seem to be much of a market for fiction of a length that can be produced over a long weekend.  That said, my polishing of Herne continues.

Now, why was I at the council chambers this afternoon? A while ago I mentioned a bit of good news that I wasn't able to talk about regarding our Heritage Committee's park, BT Corner. You remember the pretty entry sign?

I am happy to report that I was on hand to announce to council our success in receiving a grant to cover most of the costs for the outstanding portions of the park.  There's still a statue and another grant to write, but it was gratifying to know that the funds are there for the park to be essentially finished this spring.

(Oh, my aching) Back in the Saddle, again

The 3 Day Novel has been typed up, printed off, packed in an envelope and mailed away.  I have come down from the sugar, fat and caffeine high of the weekend.  After back to school followed with the 3 Day Novel I am timidly easing back into a writing routine.  Since Monday evening I haven't written a blessed thing but that'll change this afternoon.  My lower back is still screaming but it is getting better.  I toyed with the idea of visiting the gym this week but when I finished laughing it was time to pick up the boy from school.  Monday of next week is all about discipline and getting back in the groove.

I also noticed that all that info over there on the right side is out of date - That'll be updated, if not today, Monday.

Lately I've been reading a lot of short fiction.  Here are the two books currently following me around.

The one is on the bottom is The Very Best of Fantasy & Science Science Fiction - Sixtieth Anniversary Edition.  What a storehouse of classic short stories.  Anyone writing short fiction would do well to pick this one up because these are the best stories from some of the best Authors of the last sixty years.

The one on top is pretty cool.  I picked it up at a used bookstore recently (I'll get into a little rant in a moment).  It is titled,  Tomorrow, the Stars - an anthology edited by one of my all time favourites, Robert A Heinlein.  Originally published in 1952 (this particular copy is a 1967 reprint) the book showcases great stories from the mid-point of the last century.  Interesting to see how accurate some of the "futuristic" views of the 1990's were from 1952 - and how completely off the mark some of it was.  The guys back then were so optimistic about our ability to get our asses off terra firma and out into interplantary space. Sorry fellas, no Mars colony just yet.  The other great thing about stories from the 1940's and 50's is the myth of family life early television fed us.  Can you imagine Ward Cleaver heading upstairs to give Wally and the Beav a "talking to" while drawing his belt purposefully from the loops of his pants.  Well, I've only read the first six stories in the anthology and in two stories by different authors the response of fathers to their misbehaving children has been an almost unconscious removal of the belt while heading upstairs to deal out a little Ozzy and Harriet era behavioural modification.  How the times have changed.

Now, on to the rant.

Used Bookstores - among my favourite places in the entire world.  No matter where I go I always try to slip into a local used bookstore because you really never know where you'll find a gem.  When I say a gem, I'm not talking about something valuable in a monetary way (that's nice too, though I'd never sell).  I'm talking about finding a Heinlein or Lester Del Ray or Alfred Bester or Ursula Le Guin or A.M. Holmes or a whole host of other author's books that I've never read or, if I'm really lucky, one I've never even heard of before.

I like everything about Used Bookstores - usually they've been in their location forever.  Great old buildings with books stacked floor to ceiling.  Sometimes books are arranged by subject and author, sometimes whim. I love to wander the claustrophobic aisles along fire-hazard stacks of paperbacks and hardcovers.  And the old book smell. Kids books, novels, sports, cooking, gardening, textbooks, emncyclopedias, old magazines - all of it.

And the folks who run these places - all different kinds of people but two common threads have always been the hallmarks of a used book seller. Delightfully peculiar and gregariously friendly.  Until recently.

My last two Used Bookstore experiences have left me flat.  One was in Sault Ste Marie and the other in Guelph.  Both times the folks at the counter only acknowledged our arrival with a dried apple, pinched nosed, I-smell-cat-shit-all-the-time expression.  Neither time was my "hello" or "good afternoon" returned.  Both times the books seemed over-priced - they are USED books after all, not RARE books.  And both times when I checked out with our purchases it seemed as if I were inconveniencing the counter staff by daring to make a purchase.  

Is this the trend?  I certainly hope not.  Used Bookstores have always brought me pleasure and the thought of them evolving into places I'd rather avoid doesn't comfort me.  I guess I'll need to plan a visit to Macondo Books in Guelph.  Check this out.  If she can't give me my required dose of Used Bookstore odd & friendly, I don't know who can.

3 Day Done

Well - it was kind of down to the wire this time around - finished the last hand-written page at around 10:20 last night. That left a little time for editing but not much.

This morning I look around

All my treats are gone - there are empty diet Coke cans spilling out of the recycling bag - coffee has no appeal to me (that'll change) but that can of Red Bull stayed in the fridge (temptation was there around 9:30 last night).

So - what do I have to show for spending a glorious weekend - maybe the best Labour Day weekend in years - sequestered away from my family?

Well - there's a dime-sized callous on my middle finger, my eyes are red, my gut rumbles constantly from all of the sugary, fatty crap I've been spilling into it and my lower back is a chiropractor's wet dream.

Oh - and there's this:

And take a look at this:

That's right kiddies, 137 hand-written pages of fun. If you're not even a little impressed, I encourage you to try it some time. But they're not just words on paper - it's a fully self contained story with a plot, interesting three dimensional characters and everything.

But it's not all joy. There were a few dead soldiers who gave their all and didn't survive the journey:

Actually, I think the guy on the left might have a bit of life left in him.

I must thank my wife who lovingly typed the pages as I brought them up and who shepherded our wild children over the weekend. She even brought me snacks. I'll say it again, I certainly married up.

Now The Platinum Ticket and Patriot have company:

I think three looks much better than two.

And to my new pal Herne?

Thanks for the ride, Antlered Dude!

Up and at 'em

Back at it after about 4 hours sleep.

The crappy food and caffeine are starting to take their toll but the story is flowing nicely with purpose and direction. I re-read a lot of the stuff I did before I went to sleep and have churned out a pair of pages in the last few minutes. There are three or four major scenes left in the story and I think I have a clear picture of it all.

A fresh pot of coffee is perking behind me and it actually smells good. I have a few personal maintenance duties to perform and then right back at it.

Thus far the can of Red Bull is still under glass.

Sunday - closing in on midnight

It has been a most productive day. Page 94 sits waiting on my blue chair while I work out a few details in the next part of the story. Herne has made an appearance and he's strange and wonderful and frightening. I think if I am finished by mid-day tomorrow I'll have ample time before midnight to put a light polish on things. Things are coming together better than I expected and a while ago the story's ending clicked into place like I'd been planning it that way all along.

I split the day writing in the basement and then, because it was a glorious day, outside in the backyard. I even accompanied the family to the local pool for a swim and a whirlpool (my lower back is a nightmare).

Tomorrow afternoon the family plans to go to the local conservation area and, if I'm in editing mode, I'll accompany them with laptop in hand.

I'd best get back at it...

Day 2 - 9:00am

Well, here we are at day 2.

Last night I packed it in around 3:30am and slept until just before 8:00am - I'm not as young as I used to be. Unfortunately that sleep was won on the living room couch which doesn't seem as comfortable as it used to be (I went up to bed, but soon discovered an entire family - mom, 2 kids, 21 year old cat and an ark full of stuffed animals...with no room, left for tired old dad).

My lower back is a mess this morning so I opted for a soak in the tub and was rewarded with 2 1/2 more handwritten pages to put on the pile. Herne still hasn't shown up physically - guess he's kinda shy - but he's on his way...antlers and all.

20 hours in...

Just a quick update. Things are going very well. Throughout the day I've managed to eat a little healthy food, drink a few non-caffeinated beverages, grab a couple of 2 hour naps and still pound out 46 handwritten pages so far. I even made myself go for a bike ride out to the Shand Dam to clear my head and feel a part of the world around me.

Everyone here has been great. The kids are both so encouraging and have done their best to let me work and my wife...well, you can't say enough good things about the woman who types your chicken scratches for you. (She also replenished my supply of chocolate covered coffee beans!) Man, did I marry up!

Well, back to work...hopefully by midnight we'll get to meet Herne...

A Solid Start

Well, here we are closing in on 4:00am and I've hit the ground running.

Most of the chocolate covered coffee beans are gone (a shame,it is) and half a pot of coffee has cycled through my system. I've just finished fifteen solid pages and have a real sense of direction for the story. I'm liking my main character (his name's Ian, by the way) which is almost always important. I'm thinking about 2 or 3 hours sleep will serve me well, so I'm leaving the story at a point where I can immediately jump in at 6 or 7 am.

The story's title is Herne.

Just so you know.

12 hours and counting...

The kids are home again today - after 3 days of school the teachers needed a PD day before the Labour Day Weekend apparently...

I have been preparing for this weekend's ordeal.

Here is where I'll be spending the lion's share of my weekend. For a tiny basement office it is a surprisingly bright space.

Most of the actual writing takes place here:

As you can see by the tools laid out on the chair, I am planning to hand write the novel this weekend.

This is the folder I've used the last two times. Hopefully 3 times is the charm. Last time I ran through 3 rollerball pens and about 135 pieces of lined paper. I should be covered.

Just in case I'm not:

During the 3 days of the contest it is important to keep your energy levels up. Snacks while writing I find are better than meals.

I find a combination of sweet and savoury works best and yes, that bowl in front is filled with chocolate covered coffee beans.

Caffeine is key, but too much coffee leads to gut-rot. Hence my second favourite means of caffeine intake.

And, as a carnivore, one can never underestimate the importance of meat on demand.

Inspiration is even more important than nutrition and sleep, so I keep these close by in the office to remind me that a short novel can be written over the course of a long weekend.

Those are the original handwritten manuscripts of my previous 2 successes. That's The Platinum Ticket on the left (129 hand written pages) and Patriot on the right (119 pages, again, lovingly hand written).

But even with my office, my paper, my pens and various snacks, I realize that there may come a time when I need a little extra something to keep me going. I normally don't approve of such measures and react badly to the stuff (last time I had this it felt like my hair was on fire - and not just the hair on my head) so I consider this my "Break Glass in Case of Emergency" measure.

Until just before midnight I plan to get out and enjoy this amazing day. More later...

One day and counting...

So, here we are the night before I sequester myself for the Labour Day Weekend for the 3 Day Novel Contest. As in previous years it looks like the first draft will be handwritten. I have speech software that works very well and I might still go down that path, but the last two attempts were handwritten and the results were pretty good. I don't want to mess too much with what's worked in the past.

In previous years at this point I was experiencing a fairly acute case of the butterflies as the hours ticked away to the start time of midnight Friday. This year...not so much. I suppose I might just be more relaxed about the whole process, having done it twice before. I think the reason I'm not anxious has a lot to do with the kids returning to school before Labour Day for the first time ever. I just haven't had time to worry about the contest as I watch the kids settle very nicely into a new school year.

Well, it looks like the wee lad is looking for me to read the next chapter from the second Harry Potter book. I'll probably post again tomorrow night as the start time draws nigh.

Back to School

Wow. The house is quiet. Beyond the tapping of the keyboard keys all I can hear is the dog lapping water from her bowl. There's no "Hey! Giveitback! That's mine!" or "I get the back room computer! Called it!"...not even a whispered "Hey, you know what'll drive dad nuts this morning?"

Today is the first day of school. We saw my daughter off at the bus stop this morning for her new adventures in enrichment and then I walked the wee lad up the hill for his first day of Grade 2. Maybe it has to do with the crummy weather we had this summer, but each and every kid I saw today was excited about back to school. There was not a single long face in the crowd, not a teary eye in sight.

What's on my plate for this first, glorious day of the school year? First of all a coffee as I bask in the silence of an empty house. Then I'm going to make a list of what needs to be done, personally and professionally. One of those list items will be this:

I have signed up for the 3 Day Novel contest which commences Friday at mid-night. I have a clear idea of my story, a few main events to push the plot along and some of the characters. I have the setting all mapped out in my head, right down to the creaky plank on the deck of a cabin in the woods. There are some details that I won't snatch out of the air until Friday night, of course. Like the main character's name. I haven't given that any thought at all. With the 3 Day Novel I find that it flows much better if I make it up on the fly. That's worked for me on my previous 2 attempts. I'll be able to let you know on Monday if it holds true this time.

Last time I did this I threw a few blog posts up over the course weekend and I imagine I'll do it again this time, but any time I spend writing blog posts is time I don't spend on the story. For the most part on Labour Day weekend it'll be:

Something Mythic...

Interesting day today.

At home with the kids this week (last week they had a day camp that allowed me to get a little work done). With a pair of bright and high-energy kids I have certainly been challenged to keep them busy and interested. More often then not, I fear, I've relied upon the computer and that other electronic teat to keep them entertained. Right now, the boy is watching Rocky and Bullwinkle on the TV as I type - I suppose there's worse stuff he could be watching. My daughter has announced she's bored and has hightailed it upstairs to read. Piano practice and multiplication table review is still on the agenda for this afternoon.

Earlier, as an excuse to get out of the air-conditioning on this humid day, we went Letter Boxing (or, more accurately, Atlasquesting). - Here's the website. We have but a single letter box right in town although I suspect letter boxing's cousin - geocaching - has a couple of treasures locally. We sought out and found Fergus' single box as a diversion and a reason to get in w walk for the dog.

Taking care of the kids makes it difficult to get any actual writing done, but during those blessed times when they occupy themselves or, miracle of miracles, actually play with each other without fighting, I have found time to ruminate upon the 3 Day Novel Contest.

The entry form has been sitting on the printer's output tray for a few days now. I've walked by it but haven't been of a mind to fill it out. Yesterday and today I've let a story that's been rattling around in my head for a couple of years take centre stage. I've been considering a beginning that, in my mind at least, works. I have even formed a few scenes in my mind's eye. The thing, however, that made me grab that entry form and fill it out was an almost continuous string of dialogue that was going through my head for the last few days. It's very good dialogue.

So - barring any illness or emergencies between now and Labour Day Weekend, I will be participating in the 3Day Novel Contest this year. I won't disclose too much right now but I'm thinking something Mythic and Psychological set in the wilds of Northern Ontario.

Gotta go - my daughter has found a remote control train that I was sure had "accidentally" found the garbage long ago. I can hear the annoying electronic whistle and it threatens to drive me mad...

Swarf

Swarf is the waste generated by drilling or turning metal. Here's a picture:

I mention swarf for a couple of reasons. First - it's a fun word to say. I can imagine the person who coined the term saying it with disdain. "I'm knee deep in this goddamn....this goddamn...this goddamn SWARF!"

Second - it's interesting stuff. It really is beautiful to look at because it is usually coated with a thin layer of oily fluid called cutting fluid which keeps the cutting bit and the workpiece from overheating. Depending on the metal, the oil tends to reflect the light imparting a shimmering rainbow effect. A single coiled strand of swarf can be hundreds of feet long and usually works itself into a rough ball-like structure like some kind of razor sharp cotton candy.

Third - I grew up with swarf. My dad was a tool and die maker and there was not a working day he didn't come home with a tightly condensed coil of swarf hitchhiking in some fold or cuff of his clothing.

Finally, I speak of swarf because it is the introductory image in the new story I'm working on. Almost the entire story takes place in a machine shop with one exterior scene and a very brief glimpse at the main character's home life. It is a story about human cleverness, opposable thumbs and alien need and envy. This one is shaping up to have a very Twilight Zone-ish feel to it.

On another note - got a letter from the good folks at the 3 Day Novel Contest. They're looking to past participants to sign up for this year's ordeal. It's a tough old haul of intensive, almost non-stop writing which takes place over the Labour Day Weekend each year. I've done it twice before and have been very pleased by the results. I skipped last year because with kids heading to the first day of school the next day it seemed a little daunting. This year - due to the calendar, the kids head back to school before Labour Day. My wife asked if I wanted to do it this year and whether I had any ideas for a short novel that might be written over three days.

I'll need to ponder...

Routine

Howdy, all.

It has been a while but I'm finally getting around to putting together a post. Settling back into routine proved to be a little harder than expected upon returning from vacation but while I'm not yet in the groove, at least I can see it.

One little vacation story to relate and really something kinda cool. On our last day of vacation while heading back toward the highway through Kingston, Ontario my wife asked if we wanted to visit the grave site of Sir John A. Macdonald - 1st prime minister of Canada. While visiting the grave we stretched our legs in the impressive old cemetery. The first thing my son noticed were a number of holes in the ground around one of the tombstones. I assume they were rabbit-holes but it was the only tombstone that sported holes around it. A little creepy to be sure but my son also spied a stick apparently dragged deep into one of the holes. Without a hint of hesitation his arm was suddenly shoulder deep in the hole retrieving the stick. It has since been dubbed "the Ghoul Stick" and is not allowed in the house. A few minutes later I was photographing an impressive family plot when my son came up behind me and said, "Hey, Dad, look at the box I found under that bush!"
I turned and saw my son with the ghoul stick in one hand and in the other he held a sealed Tupperware container completely covered with camouflage tape. Now I had a pretty good idea what was in the box but I told everyone to stand a few feet back while I opened it anyway. Inside was a stamp,an explanatory note, some markers and directions to the next box. I wish I still had the note but it has been misplaced but it explained that this box is part of a game called Atlasquest - basically a scavenger hunt on a grand scale. Check out the website - they're all over the place.

During my first week back I received a rejection letter. I have read somewhere that a rejection letter from the New Yorker is supposedly the holy grail of rejection letters - I forget where. Well, a rejection letter from the New Yorker has no useful information so like any form rejection letter it is exactly that - useless. Here's the letter - note the milky-white stationary.

Speaking of rejections - I had a useful one before going on vacation regarding my story Just Business. In the letter there were suggestions and constructive criticism and from those suggestions and criticisms a story evolved. The story is called Old Timer and I think it's pretty damn fine. It has, of course, been submitted to the magazine that took the time to offer the suggestions.

Finally - and it's funny because as I type this I just received an e-mail from them - The 3 Day Novel Contest is closing in. Each Labour Day Weekend a contest is held to see what kind of novel can be written over the 72 hours of the holiday weekend. I have entered the last 2 years and both novellas - The Platinum Ticket and Patriot - are works of which I am very proud. This year, however, I will take a pass. There are a few reasons - kids start school the day immediately following the weekend and I don't need to be exhausted for that. I am also building a routine in which writing a set amount each and every day is a crucial part of my success. I don't want to mess with the routine just as I'm establishing it. In the past I have found the exercise of the 3 Day Novel extremely rewarding - I highly recommend it to others and will no doubt do it again in the future - but just not this year.

Anyway, speaking of routines - I need to get back to mine...

yeah, that's the Ticket, baby!

It was an exciting weekend here at the Beynon homestead. My sweet missus was away for the weekend leaving me with the kids. It was great...but tiring.

What I would really like to know is who sneaks into the house and slips the kids the cocaine. Seriously, one second everything will be fine. Everyone will be full of love and happiness and then something happens and all hell lets loose.

Now I worked extra hard this weekend monitoring for the early signs of escalation and headed each potential derailer of harmony off at the pass but I was doomed to fail from the start. There's two of them and even though I'm the adult...they're smarter than me.

All told, there was no blood and only some tears and most of those were shed by me late in the day when I had finally cajoled, bargained and sang the kids to sleep.

When my wife came home on Sunday afternoon two lightning streaks swept by me to greet her. You'd have thought I'd had them in shackles from their reaction. I was equally glad to see her, though she did show up just as Mike Weir and Tiger Woods were closing in on the fifteenth hole of the President's Cup and thus had to wait for her hug.

Last night after the children were asleep I had to retreat for about an hour and a half to the basement to finish polishing The Platinum Ticket for submission to Jim Baen's Universe. I had forgotten about the September 30th deadline until earlier in the day. Fortunately I was able to tweak a few parts that needed some attention and get it submitted. Now the waiting game begins.

My wife has lent the manuscript for Patriot to a few of her colleagues at work and so far all of the feedback has been very positive. I've let a few friends take a gander at it as well and it has been received with some enthusiasm. Currently the manuscript stands at 112 pages - a typical length for an entry in the 3 Day Novel Contest - but Patriot could easily be fleshed out to full novel length without losing any of the spirit of the story.

The Dream Boss...

It has been a busy week with the new job. I have been reconnecting with old customers and reaching out to some new ones. Over the next few weeks everything should begin to gel and something resembling a routine should emerge - or at least as close to routine as something like sales can be.

I can't express how satisfying it is to have a boss who supports you and wants nothing more than for you to succeed. I spent too many years working for someone who didn't understand that if I was successful, so was he. Too many years wasted working for someone too thick to realize that when you're selling a good or service your customers are essential and need to be treated accordingly, not as a nuisance that must be endured.

My new boss built this company and knows firsthand that if I do well, he does well. He has said to me, "Any thing you need - any tools you require - any resources you have to call upon to be successful - just let me know."

A friend of mine - Diane - said, "Cool, you're working for Hank Scorpio!"

Hank Scorpio is the guy on the right. (I guess that kinda makes me the guy on the left, huh?) In case you don't know him, Hank Scorpio is the Bondesque, kind-hearted super villain who hired Homer to help with his world domination scheme. Scorpio's organization boasted full dental and health benefits, profit sharing, stock options and 3 weeks paid vacation to start. Hank rewarded results. "Thanks, Homer. Good job. When you get home tonight you'll have an addition on your house." That's the kind of thing Hank Scorpio throws out for a little effort.

Now I'm not saying I'll be getting the Denver Broncos as a bonus (Homer did, though he complained they weren't the Dallas Cowboys), but real rewards for real results sounds pretty good to me.

Writing has not be zipping along so well. I have started to rewrite Small Town Secrets, decided to start over with the new handwritten first-draft thing. I also just looked at the date and I need to polish The Platinum Ticket a bit for submission to Jim Baen's Universe before the end of the month.

I received a notification from the 3 Day Novel Contest informing me that the manuscript for Patriot was received. Now I just need to wait until January to see how I fare.

Writes and responsibilities

I haven't been posting for the last week or so, nor have I been writing very much.

After the 3 Day Novel Contest I need to admit that I needed a break. I haven't really worked writing into my daily routine, yet and I think I know why. During the Labour Day weekend I managed an output of forty hand-written pages per day. Now, I know I can't keep a sustained 40 pages per day, but I find that handwriting goes a lot faster for me than typing - I'm a hunter and pecker, so the pen and paper thing works out fairly well for me.

I've decided to go back to writing my 1st drafts by hand. I feel it will encourage me to write on a daily basis. Handwriting is also more satisfying, somehow.

When you type in the computer, sure you can see the word count and scroll down the pages, but when you're writing by hand it's truly physical. The words spill out of the pen and you can track your progress as your hand works across the page.

Currently I am revamping The Platinum Ticket for Jim Baen's Universe, an online Sci-fi and fantasy magazine.

With my decision to write my 1st drafts by hand Small Town Secrets and Nothing's Made to Last should progress nicely.

I don't like the look of them teenagers...

I must be getting old...

On Saturday I read an article in the Globe and Mail about the decision to transport undetonated explosives from Northern Toronto right down to the Leslie Street Spit to blow them up. Traffic was shut down while the convoy traveled through the heart of Toronto. The even had to chase Audubon Society Scientists off the spit so they could blow the things up. In grumpy old man fashion, I wrote a letter to the editor.

I've gotta get a rocker for the front porch...

In other news I mailed off my 3 Day Novel Entry, Patriot , today. I read it over last night and other than a few typing errorz it's really quite good (if I do say so myself). I will have to wait until January 2008 to find out if it wins.

Yesterday I was suffering from withdrawal from all the caffeine and sugar I consumed to keep me away long enough to scribble out 120 handwritten pages over the weekend. Tons of thanks to my lovely missus for typing the manuscript for me and for keeping the kids corralled for the weekend.

The Settling Dust...

Holy crap...I'm tired.

Well, I'm done with the 3 Day Novel Contest for another year. I finished Patriot around 9:30 last night when I wrote "The End" on my 120th handwritten page. I have an aching back, a blister on my thumb, a callus on the side of my index finger where I nest the pen. Speaking of pens, I went through three brand new ones over the weekend, the last one dying as I had only about 200 words left in the story.

Anyway, it is done. It's pretty rough but I think it's good. I had only a couple of hours to edit but overall I think it flows well and tells a coherent story. There are a couple of scenes I'm particularly proud of.

I dropped the manuscript off to be printed. I've come to the realization that with printer ink the cost of high grade cocaine, for anything over thirty pages it's cheaper to go to a printer. I'm getting one spiral bound for me to edit at my leisure and another standard manuscript format to be mailed into the contest.

To anyone reading who might have taken part over the weekend - congratulations, I know it's not easy. Anyone interested in learning more about the 3 Day Novel Contest can follow the link.

3:00am Saturday

Well, here I am. I started on the stroke of twelve and have written pretty much constantly since.

I am doing the 3Day novel writing longhand as my typing is the good old hunt and peck style popular among men my age. When I was in highschool they offered typing but that was something girls took. Never did we imagine that one day it would be a vital skill for talking to your computer.

So far I have 12 solid handwritten pages. I like the story so far but it's damn early in the morning and I needs some rest.

To bed with me now....