This Year It Really Is T.G.I.O.
Well it's all over but the shouting (otherwise known as the awards) and in the end, Toronto pulled it out by 110,000 words (I'm not going to say anything but there's a certain 110,000 words that might not have been written under certain other circumstances). Chicago put up a valliant fight until the very end and it's a good thing that we did or we might have actually lost out to New York City.
The final standing are as follows:
1. Toronto - 2,980,059
2. Chicago - 2,875,287
3. New York City - 2,859,051
16,000 words. That's how much we ended up beating New York City by and it might not have happened without the dedicated crew that was at the final write-in tonight at Open Books. And special thanks go out to Atlantistale who had the idea to have a mega-word war. It was :30 of war followed by an :05 break followed by :30 more of war.
And I don't even know how much Chicago wrote during this but it was way more than 16,000 words.
---
The most important thing to me personally though was that I wrote 9,581 words today to finish with a total of 70,433 for the month.
That is a record that I don't think will ever be broken.
I think that I should have attended a couple more write-ins. Not that they helped me out much in the way of word count (though I highly doubt I would have written 7,583 words in five hours if it wasn't for being at the write-in) but the people there would start talking about something and I would incorporate it into the novel.
It was responsible for what I think is the funniest passage in my whole novel (though about the least work safe):
“Should we make irishlion29 say he’s hung like a horse?” Andy asked.
“No one is actually hung like a horse, Andy,” Kate said, trying to stifle a laugh, “and don’t you think that screams personal ad? We don’t want this guy to seem too desperate or else Tabitha’s not going to go for him.”
“I’m hung like a horse,” Andy said.
“No Andy, you are hung like a pony,” Kate said.
“Isn’t a pony hung like a horse?” Andy asked.
“According to Wikipedia, a pony is not hung like a horse. And neither are you Andy.”
“Can I at least be hung like some large dog, like a German Shephard.”
“No, Andy, you’re hung like a Canadian.”
“Well if I’m hung like a Canadian, than I’m hung like a proud Newfoundland fisherman named Pierre.”
“No, Andy, you’re hung like a dead fish.”
“Well, if I’m a dead fish, then I never stopped trying to grab the hook.”
“You know what they say, winners never quit and quitter never win. But you’re obviously not a winner and you just won’t stop.”
“Why should I quit, I’m as prolific a speaker as Longfellow.”
“Stop it right now. Quit talking about your anatomy, you’re so not a Longfellow.”
“I’ll quit if you quit,” Andy said.
“Then you’re for sure never going to win.”
“But I like that, let’s say he’s really into obsure Irish authors,” Andy said.
“I think that Longfellow was actually American,” Kate said, “what are you, Donovan?”
“I’m sorry, but everyone knows that Bruce Lee was Chinese except for Donovan. Who actually knows who Longfellow even is?”
“Obviously no woman who ever slept with you.”
“Well, there was that one girl from Nantucket.”
“But she slept with everyone, so fuck it,” Kate said. By this point, I think most of them must have been round because they were both rolling on the floor. They were also both as red as our main competitor’s envelope where it wasn’t out of anger. I almost expected them to go into the room with the bed at that point but they didn’t.
“That’s what she said,” Kate said. I had noticed her starting to slip out of the chair and I knew it was inevitable that she was going to fall on the floor. This was the point that she did.
Somewhere I think in there is that golden moment that everyone will be talking about for years to come. It's my "night trains were the worst" or my "don't worry sweetheart, it's not that small" moment. Funny how two of the three involve dick jokes. I guess they're more universal than anything else except for fart jokes.
The whole thing got really raunchy in the end as I think no one was on much sleep.
But the lack of sleep is something that I intend to correct this weekend, to a point. Though I don't know how much of that there's going to be.
I corrected it a bit this morning by calling in sick to work. I wrote from 8:30 a.m. to 10:30 a.m. actually but it was probably better for my word count that I slept from 10:30 a.m. to 2:00 p.m.
As of tomorrow, it will be good to stop writing about movies and to actually start watching them again. And I took some photos at the write-in tonight so I'm starting to go back into non-November mode there as well.
December is a new month and while I'll miss November this year, there has never been another T.G.I.O. party where I so agree with the sentiment.
The final standing are as follows:
1. Toronto - 2,980,059
2. Chicago - 2,875,287
3. New York City - 2,859,051
16,000 words. That's how much we ended up beating New York City by and it might not have happened without the dedicated crew that was at the final write-in tonight at Open Books. And special thanks go out to Atlantistale who had the idea to have a mega-word war. It was :30 of war followed by an :05 break followed by :30 more of war.
And I don't even know how much Chicago wrote during this but it was way more than 16,000 words.
---
The most important thing to me personally though was that I wrote 9,581 words today to finish with a total of 70,433 for the month.
That is a record that I don't think will ever be broken.
I think that I should have attended a couple more write-ins. Not that they helped me out much in the way of word count (though I highly doubt I would have written 7,583 words in five hours if it wasn't for being at the write-in) but the people there would start talking about something and I would incorporate it into the novel.
It was responsible for what I think is the funniest passage in my whole novel (though about the least work safe):
“Should we make irishlion29 say he’s hung like a horse?” Andy asked.
“No one is actually hung like a horse, Andy,” Kate said, trying to stifle a laugh, “and don’t you think that screams personal ad? We don’t want this guy to seem too desperate or else Tabitha’s not going to go for him.”
“I’m hung like a horse,” Andy said.
“No Andy, you are hung like a pony,” Kate said.
“Isn’t a pony hung like a horse?” Andy asked.
“According to Wikipedia, a pony is not hung like a horse. And neither are you Andy.”
“Can I at least be hung like some large dog, like a German Shephard.”
“No, Andy, you’re hung like a Canadian.”
“Well if I’m hung like a Canadian, than I’m hung like a proud Newfoundland fisherman named Pierre.”
“No, Andy, you’re hung like a dead fish.”
“Well, if I’m a dead fish, then I never stopped trying to grab the hook.”
“You know what they say, winners never quit and quitter never win. But you’re obviously not a winner and you just won’t stop.”
“Why should I quit, I’m as prolific a speaker as Longfellow.”
“Stop it right now. Quit talking about your anatomy, you’re so not a Longfellow.”
“I’ll quit if you quit,” Andy said.
“Then you’re for sure never going to win.”
“But I like that, let’s say he’s really into obsure Irish authors,” Andy said.
“I think that Longfellow was actually American,” Kate said, “what are you, Donovan?”
“I’m sorry, but everyone knows that Bruce Lee was Chinese except for Donovan. Who actually knows who Longfellow even is?”
“Obviously no woman who ever slept with you.”
“Well, there was that one girl from Nantucket.”
“But she slept with everyone, so fuck it,” Kate said. By this point, I think most of them must have been round because they were both rolling on the floor. They were also both as red as our main competitor’s envelope where it wasn’t out of anger. I almost expected them to go into the room with the bed at that point but they didn’t.
“That’s what she said,” Kate said. I had noticed her starting to slip out of the chair and I knew it was inevitable that she was going to fall on the floor. This was the point that she did.
Somewhere I think in there is that golden moment that everyone will be talking about for years to come. It's my "night trains were the worst" or my "don't worry sweetheart, it's not that small" moment. Funny how two of the three involve dick jokes. I guess they're more universal than anything else except for fart jokes.
The whole thing got really raunchy in the end as I think no one was on much sleep.
But the lack of sleep is something that I intend to correct this weekend, to a point. Though I don't know how much of that there's going to be.
I corrected it a bit this morning by calling in sick to work. I wrote from 8:30 a.m. to 10:30 a.m. actually but it was probably better for my word count that I slept from 10:30 a.m. to 2:00 p.m.
As of tomorrow, it will be good to stop writing about movies and to actually start watching them again. And I took some photos at the write-in tonight so I'm starting to go back into non-November mode there as well.
December is a new month and while I'll miss November this year, there has never been another T.G.I.O. party where I so agree with the sentiment.
posted by incendiarymind at 11:11 PM
3 Comments:
God, I loved that passage. Particularly the part about him being hung like a dead fish.
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