dimfuture.net

Note: I’d like everyone to welcome Tyrell Choren, aka Christopher the Fabulous, who will occasionally be gracing the pages of dimfuture.net with his thoughts on cinema. Great to have you aboard, Tyrell! -Dan

James Cameron films (back when he made them), along with being flat out awesome, always had strong central female roles. The women were as much involved in the action elements of the film as the men — sometimes more so — but were also able to maintain their femininity. Cameron is one of the few directors to give his female characters as much respect, if not more, as his male characters. As a result, they are some of the most memorable and unique female characters of cinema.

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And so another National Novel Writing Month comes to a close, and with it, the caffeinated fever dreams of would-be novelists everywhere. As they say on the Captain Crunch boxes: millions will enter, hundreds will win. Dozens will produce something worth reading, and of the several who actually dare to show it a close friend, a choice few will get honest feedback… like the kind we see in today’s comic.

It’s been a long, fun, harried Month of Writing the National Novel, and (in case you were wondering) I am, in fact, “a winner.” I want to thank the loquacious Matt Kessen for filling in for me all through the month of November, and telling you all more about Godzilla than you ever thought it was possible to know in the first place. I’d like to thank the Academy and the little people — Billy Barty, Warwick Davis, David Rappaport. I’ve got a million of them. Tip your waiter. Try the veal. Look for a return to form in December, where “form” is “Dan slack-assing through another month of cut-rate bloggery.”

See you again next year, Nanowrimo!

Dan is down to the wire, Nanowrimo-wise. It’s the home stretch, and other such metaphors. At least, I assume that’s why he won’t answer my emails. And as such, it falls to me to both write and draw this week’s offering. A Nanowrimo Comix / Vincent Macropod crossover event! I love crossover events!

Now, not being a novelist myself, I can offer little insight to the internal process of Nanowrimo. Hopefully, though, you who are novellists will find something familiar here. Also hopefully, it doesn’t backfire, sending Dan to my front door with a Desert Eagle…

Humility, thy name is word debt. From the naive, comfortable beginnings of Nanowrimo, the procrastinating writer (you know, the real kind, not some mythical, deadline-meeting fairy) rests on the cushy laurels of previous successes, firm in the belief that yes, if he wanted, he could write this book “in his sleep” — he just doesn’t want to right now. The glorious denial of falling behind on word count is like drifting, feather-light and free, on a fragrant zephyr, until reality comes crashing in like one of those huge fans — you know, like in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory — no, on second thought make that Alien 3. And the next thing you know, a bald guy with a barcode on the back of his head is cleaning up your remains with a bucket. That’s Nanowrimo, Week Three. At least, for those of us who operated under the Pollyanna-like illusion that we knew what the hell we were doing this time around.

In the spirit of that soul-blasting moment of clarity, please enjoy the comic.

Here’s to the glorious three-day word sprint!

National Novel Writing Month is so much more than a contest. It is, if you will, a means of self-transformation, of crafting sturdy realities from the ephemera of dreams — it is, in short, a mighty apotheosis of discipline and creative wonder.

It’s also, incidentally, about the bold-faced lies we tell ourselves. Lies like “I can do this,” and “my novel is going pretty well,” and “I can participate in Nanowrimo and maintain a healthy social life,” and “Nanowrimo is a means of self-transformation, of crafting sturdy realities from the ephemera of dreams — it is, in short, a mighty apotheosis of discipline and creative wonder.”

As this week’s comic will boldly demonstrate, a little self-deception is sometimes necessary, if we’re to achieve the meaningless, arbitrary writing goals gleefully set up for us by a well-meaning (but ultimately sadistic) author and webmaster. It is not enough to say to ourselves, “sixteen hundred and sixty six words a day? That sounds vaguely Satanic, but reasonable. I can do that if I really try.” This sort of simplistic nonsense will get you killed. One does not merely “achieve” or “endure” in Nanowrimo; one passes through a cleansing inferno of caffeine and fear-sweat, and passes through the trial reborn, no longer a whining, lop-eared wannabe, but as that most grandiose, revered, and staggeringly well-paid of artistic icons — the writer.

Now, I know what you must be thinking. Wouldn’t fear-sweat turn to vapor if an inferno were involved? Well, questions like that are why you fail. Trust us, it’s all very metaphysical. Or so we tell ourselves.

Enjoy the comic.