Nanowrimo 2019 - Tumblr Posts
Début du NaNoWriMo
NaNoWriMo 2019 : FI-NI !
Dire que je pensais faire une sorte de journal de bord de ce nano, revenir un peu sur les bons points et les mauvais, les difficultés au jour le jour…
Au final, c’est quasiment un miracle que je l’ai fini, pile sur la ligne d’arrivée.
J’ai écrit, j’ai bloqué, j’ai refait, j’ai re-refait, bref j’ai fait tout ce qu’il ne faut pas faire dans ce genre d’exercice, mais il le fallait. La contrainte ne m’a pas suffit pour lâcher du lest et passer en mode « j’arrête de me ronger les sangs sur la qualité de ce que j’écris et j’avance, c’est le nano donc j’ai droit à l’erreur ». Je me rappelle avoir passé trop de temps les yeux sur le compteur en me disant que ce n’était pas possible, je ne pouvais pas faire plus, je n’avais aucune idée de ce qui pouvait bien se passer ensuite.
Et pourtant j’ai écris. Je ne sais même pas par quel bout je m’y suis prise que ça ait l’air cohérent, surtout dans mon histoire pleine de mensonges et de manipulations des uns et des autres. C’est comme si le résultat était parfaitement détaché de moi, je le relis en me disant que ces personnages ont l’air sympathiques, je suis trop épuisée pour voir les trous sans doute énormes du scénario, j’ai juste l’impression que quelque chose est sorti de moi sans que j’y prenne la moindre part. Ce n’est pas la première fois que je finis une histoire, mais c’est la première fois que j’ai cette impression d’irréel. C’est peut-être la fatigue. Premier essai de Nano alors que je travaille, et bien je ne recommande pas, c’est violent.
J’ai l’impression que plus j’essaye de comprendre comment ça fonctionne, comment je fonctionne, comment les histoires fonctionnent, comment l’écriture fonctionne, moins je m’attends à ce qui m’arrive. Comme si mon inconscient protégeait farouchement sa chasse gardée. Donc je vais y aller doucement sur les analyses et les conseils, et laisser venir…
(Et dormir, pour l’instant. Beaucoup. Longtemps. En fait, ce n’est pas la peine de me réveiller avant Noël)
Writing Time...
NaNoWriMo has come, and I finally started on a novel. Better late than never!
I’ve decided on a story about dragons, an old friendship, an unlikely mother and daughter, and a quest to understand the misunderstood.
They stood in a circle, analyzing the girl in front of them. She stared wide-eyed back at them. Her anger had vanished, and fear replaced the hatred that once lay behind her eyes. They were no longer icy and cold, but bright and pure, like the sky on a cloudless day. The elders examined the black dirt covering her body, the tangles and branches in her hair, and especially her sharp nails and teeth. They were fascinated.
Out came the ancient texts and books of wisdom. They smelled musty and sent dust into the air when opened. The yellowed pages were covered in scrawled text and ink-drawn images of all sorts of unimaginable horrors. Monsters and creatures of enormous size, human deformities, mutated wounds, curses and sickness, plants that spewed poison and ate human flesh, and of course, dragons.
Samuel had never seen so many kinds of dragons. He hadn’t known before now that there even existed different species. There were serpents, dragons that lurked at the bottom of lakes and seas, ones that were covered in deadly spikes, two and three headed beasts, ones with more than four limbs, more than one set of wings, with no eyes, and thousands of teeth. Dragons that had a jaw so massive that it spanned their entire body, ones that spewed molten gold, liquid flames, or with breath so horrifying that life around them died instantly. It was utterly horrifying. If the others knew or saw what was written in these books, no soul would ever step foot into Urgenwald again. They would flee the village and never return, and none of the of-age boys would ever join hunt-fest. Samuel certainly knew he wouldn’t have.
The elder stopped turning the pages. He had come across a drawing of a boy amid deadly creatures. Samuel inspected closer. He could not read, but the image said everything he needed to know. The boy in the drawing was Samuel’s age, no more than 16 summers old. But he wasn’t only a boy, he was something else. Half human, half dragon. Scales were embedded in his skin, and small spikes poked through what was left of his hair and out of his shoulders. He almost no longer had hands and fingers, they resembled claws or talons more than human fingers. And from his back sprouted small wings, not fully formed. He stood in an unnatural position, and his arms were longer than the average boy’s. But what stood out most was his face. His eyes were slits like a snake’s, and a long, forked tongue slinked out from a mouth full of pointed teeth.
The elders murmured to each other and glanced between the open page and the girl.