Writing Log #6 - #NoContextSanctuary17223

It's Friday already!? Time flies when you're over 30 and chasing a deadline. The deadline may be "literally anytime in 2025," but hey, it'll be that time before we know it...

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Dropping another mystery character design today: first ever draft on the left, what I'm currently working with on the right. It's pretty common for me to stick fairly close to my first draft after the vibes have been cooking in my brain.

Fun fact, the concept for this character came to me while brainstorming to music--specifically to the version of "Don't Kill It Carol" by Manfred Mann's Earth Band. For a long time, it wasn't super clear if she was going to be in the story (which will sound insane once it all comes together), so her temporary name was, well, Carol.

Still deciding what my spoiler policy for these posts is, so I'll leave you with one piece of info for now: trans rights. \o/

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This week I made a little floor plan for the story's main setting, and now I finally get to show off the whiteboard! My one and only, my darling, the thing that fixes literally all of my writing problems. Every time I brood over a problem without consulting the board, I wanna slap myself for it afterwards. It. Never. Fails.

I liked having the floor plan on display in my room so much, I kind of forgot to wipe it, and I sure paid the price. It took a solid 30 minutes of rigorously pushing the eraser across each letter to clear up the board again...

Things may or may not change, but even if they do, that's kind of the point of these logs. Also big shout-out to my amazing friend Hattori for the wall decor. Makes me smile every day.

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Onto the writing! I wrote 8,500 words, a whopping 2.5k more than projected. The power outage that hit Montreal this week may have helped, because what else is a nerd gonna do without computer access and barely functional mobile data? (Convenience is all I love about my iPad.)

My worries from last week had the funny side effect of lowering the stakes so much (since it's all gonna need a rewrite anyway), the words kind of came pouring out of me. Mid-chapter, there's now literally an editing note that says "nvm the location is wrong, fix later. lmao" and then I just pretend I wrote it right from the start.

Knowing that he can't appreciate the taste of pizza or get a sense for how everything we do together is fun, but has to react so negatively to what he deems 'failures...'

It bothers me.

"I used to cry a lot," I tell him, very slowly beginning to untie the other boot. "Not when I got hurt, or when boys on skateboards tried to bully me away from parks. But when I knew I was doing a technique wrong."

Alvin blinks, then turns his head to me, smiling softly. "That's hard to imagine. And not just because I don't have an imagination."

I chuckle. "I know. It's stupid, really. [...] Every time, I went to bed frustrated, and when I tried again, I was a little closer to my goal. Having fun again."

"Naturally. Your body was recovering and developing muscle memory."

"Exactly," I say. "It doesn't -all- happen overnight, but -some- things do happen overnight. I'm sure a machine can benefit from, I dunno, comparing an experiment to a 'normal' state and taking the time to process it."

He freezes, quite literally.

"So you can be kinder to yourself too, right?"

Alvin struggles with a deep-rooted belief that he's 'inadequate'--and due to missing data, he doesn't even know what exactly that inadequacy is or how to go about 'fixing' it. Lulu thinks that's not too different from how human brains can be 'programmed' to make us feel bad.

Lots of bonding for these two, before things get...bizarre because I finally tapped into my "you can write what you want" energy again. I could drop a bunch of excerpts, but it's a lot funnier if I just say "Spice Girls - Wannabe starts playing," "the worst website ever created," "plant-based guard dog protecting the goods," "Lulu, stop thinking about tentacle porn," "Can robots get high?", "Whose blood is that?", "Lulu forgot the safeword," and "LINK IN BIO, FUCKERS."

That's a lot for 8.5k words and I will absolutely not explain (yet).

Although some rewrites are in order for structure and plot reasons, this is the exact energy I aspire to be channelling for every chapter. (Well, most of them. Sometimes serious stuff happens, but it is a (checks notes) romantic comedy after all.)

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I've made it to (presumably) the last big scene for this chapter, so the goal is to finish that by the 31st. Time to activate silent mode for the weekend 👋

Grimacing, I turn to Alvin, who's still looking as happy as ever. "Well, all things considered, that went about as well as it had any chance to."

His lips move but the only sound coming out of his mouth is that grating, creaky reminder that his mechanical throat needs to be lubricated.

"Alvin, you're muted."