…reason why my suspicion of “lit fic” is well justified occurs to me on the eve of this year’s NaNo.

First some information about this year’s NaNovel:

Title - Deadheads
Genre - Epistolary SF Horror Satire
Basic Overview - Upon the razing to the ground of school for troubled minors the Deisberg Academy three people describe the events leading up to the final conflagration and muse upon why the destruction of the Academy was, perhaps, inevitable. A story for people suspicious of the education system and the kinds of people it produces.

My research into the mooted backstory of the Deisberg Academy has lead me into some very scary places and with the seemingly arbitrary choice of a name for the institution into links with the worlds of espionage and Nazi eugenics. These are both themes that have a bearing on the overarching plot and also themes that enlarge upon the novel’s central point. I have to wonder, however, how arbitrary my choice of name for the Academy was. When I began plotting this out I thought of it in pure genre pulp terms just like Starfall. Starfall was: Haunted Nightclub Story and this is: Adolescent Zombie Story. Just like Starfall it’s increased in scope to mirror nothing less than the entire history of Britain from the Roman Empire to present day through the limited perspective of events in a small town on the Nottinghamshire/Leicestershire border so this one seems to be looking at the implications of eugenic thinking, the education system and the views of educated men (particularly men at first) in the shaping of our current educational situation.

And all this from the selection of a Bavarian surname? Why did the Germanic twang resonate with my author’s instinct? Did I somehow know that this is what I would find? I mean I was aware of Nazi eugenics before I even thought of this story, it’s plausible that it was my subconscious nudging me in this fruitful direction.

Whatever it was, the richness of the central themes of Deadheads would not actually have been possible in a literary fiction novel. Or rather, they might have been but the “restrictions” on subject matter that separates “lit fic” from “genre fic” mean that the minute someone blew something up or invented a biological weapon you leave literary and entre genre land. But it seems that such a satire could not be composed without recourse to the generic. Which leads me to wonder what the point of this stupid distinction is except to force the aspiring lit fic author to choose their abstractions carefully.

Genre fiction tends to have a more satisfying body count anyway. Stay tuned for some enlightening novel stats.

Writing… games… (gasp)

Not even… really… thought about NaNo…

Have to… prepare… or face shame… (more gasping)

See you all… in Nov… if not before…

You might think that when someone has a lot of time sitting around doing nothing they might catch up on all of those things that they were planning to do but somehow never had the time. When that someone has no concerns for their own continued survival and prosperity this is quite true. However when someone is, for example, out of work, running out of money and has no immediate hope of continued remuneration then the causes of survival kick in and essentially frivolous activity drops to virtually nil. The reverse of this situation is that when one has recovered from this position the desire to do that frivolous work returns.

Problem is, you go from the doldrums to frantic activity in about five seconds flat. So now we are about three weeksish from NaNoWriMo, I have Starfall to edit and a games weekend inconveniently placed slap-bang in the middle of NaNoWriMo. That’s just the tip of the iceberg.

Also life itself introduces a number of factors to further increase the occupied areas on the calendar. You don’t want to become an isolate locked away from loved ones. There are debtors to be mollified, there is day work to be done to mollify them. There is a continual parade of stuff to be chewed through.

The only answer to this problem is to become organised.

Thus it is that within the space of three albums (Wyclef Jean, Fun Lovin’ Criminals and something else which I haven’t decided on yet) this Sunday I am updating this site, preparing some notes for NaNo and, if time permits also for my games weekend and starting the last phase of editing on Starfall. These things could take over my life. So listening to records to decide the length of any given task is a compromise.

All writers need a compromise like that, otherwise one of two things happen, you end up alone and lonely or you end up not acheiving anything. I have to offer thanks to the universe once again for the blessing of Mrs Monkey who continues to support my valiant but foolhardy efforts by pushing me up the stairs and reassuring me that she won’t feel neglected as she lies on the sofa with a novel and half a bar of chocolate…

Peace all.