At the moment, my attempt titled: "Puer Aeternus: The Electric Messiah" not only has an intriguing name, but a plot as well. Rather than spoil anything (even to myself) by describing what I have in store (and what will end up surprising me as I go along) -- I can only say that this is the most exciting test of my writing abilities I have ever faced.
So far in 12 days, I've managed to get it up t0 26,000+ words. According to the NaNoWriMo stat engine, I should be on track to completion by November 23rd. Two days before people are expected to sub their novel to verify whether they've reached 50,000 words or not.
Not only am I on track, but I am seeing potential. Potential for this book to become something huge once NaNo packs it's bags and heads out to sunny pastures until next November. The story I've somehow began telling, is mutating grotesquely into something that I think can easily reach 80k if not more, by the time I'm finished with it.
I'm excited with the way I manage to close each chapter with a mini-cliffhanger. I don't like the idea of patting myself on the back, but it's tempting not to when I've looked at what I've done up to this point.
So far, I'm halfway to acquiring a "prize", likely to be a t-shirt and a complimentary icon next to my name on the forums there. Not a big deal, it's not why I'm writing to begin with.
I'm writing to make the world into a better place. Yes, I know. It's a science-fiction novel but it has it's redeeming values, chief among them is the bit of spirituality I've inserted. Teasing the reader into considering questions regarding the nature of God, the definition of a soul and the future that inevitably awaits us all, if we aren't careful.
All that is wrapped snugly in this blanket I've designed. It's fast paced, visceral and lean as hell. I try to make every word count in service of the story I'm telling and so far, I really enjoy the process and hope it will turn out in a way that I can be proud of accomplishing.
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In other news, Leah. Leah... LEAH.
I .. am .. speechless whenever I think of her. The things she said, how it all turned out and the way I ended up being nothing more than a freak for following through on the things we first talked about. About being honest and generous with our feelings. And after last night with Jerry, I began to realize some truths.
Women don't want TOO MUCH of what they claim to ask for. They want honesty, sure, but not too much of it. They want to be loved, but not too much of it. They want everything, but not too much of it.
They want.. I don't know, authenticity? They can't seem to make their minds up. And with Leah, she was the first person in a long while that I've bared my soul towards. Who I thought bared hers with me.
That was so not the case. I'm feeling bitter these days.. Looking at her pictures once in a while, trying to figure out how I should "act" in a relationship. And whether or not I'd be able to find the woman I'm meant for. And if I already have -- whether or not I can suffer the consequences of my being too desirous of finding true love.
I really don't know how you can tell someone it's "forever" and promises all kind of things, only to recant later on. I don't get it. My faith in humanity feels broken. I don't know how am I going to approach my next relationship. But I do know that being emotionally generous is going to come with a heavy price tag that will need to be earned, not granted immediately from the start.
I hate myself sometimes. Thinking I'm a piece of shit with his mind dreaming of things that he cannot possible hope to achieve. That I'm afraid to face reality and take myself down to the level that most everyone else is at.
When I mentioned that to Leah, she encouraged me not to think that way. "I feel like I should get my head out from the clouds." "No. Don't." Well.. See what happens when I listen to other people when I become honest with my feelings?
I don't get it anymore. I just don't "get" .. "it". Earlier this year I said that being true to myself was the most important thing to strive towards.
I don't know what happened. I thought I kept true, but obviously I didn't. Or it wasn't enough. Or it was too weird, too scary...
Too much.
Being true to myself at this very instant would have me saying:
Fuck this world.
But something .. something is still within me that sheds a tear. Something still "feels" down below.. I haven't killed the part I love about myself most. It's still alive. Barely. But it's there and it's going to need some time before it feels safe enough to appear again.
I just fucking feel broken. But I can't give up hope. I just can't. I have to push. To struggle. To try. To dream. That's who I am. It's who I've always been.
It's who I will be.
Until the day I die.
