1. This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this site, you are agreeing to our use of cookies. Learn More.

Literary criticism for incomplete short story

Discussion in 'Entertainment and Technology' started by Argentwing, May 23, 2013.

  1. Argentwing

    Full Member

    Joined:
    Dec 13, 2012
    Messages:
    6,696
    Likes Received:
    3
    Location:
    New England
    Gender:
    Male
    Gender Pronoun:
    He
    Sexual Orientation:
    Bisexual
    Out Status:
    Out to everyone
    I really wish this was the full release thread, but alas, it isn't. :frowning2: I'm stuck solid on just how to end this sucker. I'm posting the incomplete version here in the hope that minds more creative than mine have a good way of putting together a respectable climax and Disney ending. Other criticisms absolutely welcome too, of course.

    A Fire Among the Snows~ A Short Story

    Tamak would not be bothered by the razor-edged cold today. His blood was pumping before the hunt began, and now that he was about to see some action, the normally biting snowflakes had the effect of a tepid drizzle. He crouched and remained perfectly still, however, his weapon held low to the ground. The spear, whose finely-honed head boasted beautiful carvings continuing down onto its ashwood shaft, was a gift from one of the tribe's craftsman. Tamak's mentor would not have him achieve adulthood wielding a crudely sharpened stick.

    He looked towards Dun, the chieftain of the village. This may have been a big event for Tamak, but for his inveterate father? The eyes under his shaggy mane suggested it was just another day. His hulking frame bore nearly as many scars as his furs carried trophies of previous hunts: ears, tusks, skulls, and feathers of animals whose other parts were put to myriad uses back at the Ghut homestead. As far as Tamak was concerned, his father had seen and battled the entire world.

    Even for the grizzled patriarch, though, a mammoth was no song by the river. It would take the hard work of every one of their dozen or so hunters to bind the beast just long enough to spear a vital organ, and hope to stay out of the way once its rampaging death throes began. Despite the danger, it was worth the risk. The weather was already fierce for the season, and a few of the village's huts were nearly worn through. That's without mentioning the meat that would feed everyone for over a month once properly salted. Any fear in Tamak's heart was suppressed by his sense of duty for the village, as well as pride for finally earning the title of manhood.

    Dun grunted sharply, and held up his hand for "hold." Their quarry was perfectly positioned, but the party would have to wait. The situation just got complicated. A line of black smudges off in the distance caused the Ghut hunters to dive for cover-- a hunting party from the neighboring village. Relations with them were not openly hostile, but this hunt in particular was in contested territory. If they saw this mammoth attack as poaching, the result would be outright warfare.

    The Ghut tribe peered out from behind rocks and foliage, watching the Kenep scouting party size up what minutes before was their golden opportunity. Growls of disapproval rumbled around the concealed men; they would go back empty-handed! Their neighbors to the north began circling the mammoth, and binding ropes were being swung already in preparation.

    The chieftain would not call off the trip so soon, though. Still the situation grew more complicated. Just when the weighted ropes sailed towards the mammoth, a number of saber-tooths charged from a hidden crevice nearby. The group watching was frozen less by cold or stealth now than by suspense.

    This tiger ambush proved a debacle for the would-be Shenep hunters. Certainly not lost on them was the reality that along with the pack of monster cats to fend off, they now had an enraged mammoth stomping around after the botched attack. The stronger men bellowed at their enemies, snarling as fiercely as the animals and daring them to charge. Some of the others were already locked in combat, pumping spears and swinging torches, trying to drive them away from the younger members. One unlucky soul got his binding rope caught on the mammoth's tusk, flailing in an effort to get it loose. The shaggy mountain just yanked him to the ground, where he stayed.

    Tamak found himself shaking uncontrollably as the Sheneps scattered in all directions. It couldn't have been the cold, as he was sweating under his layers of hide. This is what it meant to be a man? One bit of bad luck, and a secure winter turned into a bloody mess. He was supposed to feel good that their rivals had suffered a setback, and that they would soon get another chance at the mammoth. But he couldn't help just feeling sorry for the Shenep tribe, and terrified for himself.

    Dun's wooly reward was still in the area though, and all could see the confidence as he sized it up once more. He knew the tigers had had their fill while they dragged off a few bodies; they wouldn't risk a second fight, especially after such a good win. He motioned forward, and Tamak moved with him on instinct alone. That mammoth's tusks were going to supply Ghut fishermen and seamstresses for a year, and that was final.

    This time at least, Tamak was still not experienced enough to take on primary responsibilities of mammoth hunting. He would need a bit more time and practice before he'd be allowed to use a long spear or binding rope, but he still had a job to do. That job was distraction and security. He'd need to harass the animal and strike it with his spear so that the stronger members could wrangle it. That meant he'd be in front, aiming for the eyes, and relying on his agility to avoid tusk sweeps and possible charges. There was no backing out now, though. He had to do it for the sake of his family members, without even considering what shame his father would feel if his son turned out to be a failure. Tamak grit his teeth and ran out to meet the huge creature.

    A cliff of flesh and coarse auburn hair stared back at him, its ears flared to their full width. Vapor shot from the nostrils at the end of its trunk, which shifted gently before its tossing head. It had already seen one attempt on its life, and did not appear to have much patience for another. Tamak replaced all his ample fear with resolve to defeat this enemy, securing his hold on his weapon. He gave a quick glance to the rope bearers, who nodded their signals to him. He unleashed a bloodlust roar, and the strike had begun. He swung his spear, nicking the mammoth high on its trunk. It trumpeted and reared up, causing the sailing binding ropes to spin around a leg and tusk; step one was finished. When his forelegs thundered down, they were ready for it. The beast was bound just enough to give the spearmen an opening. They charged up and with a flying leap, sank their weapons into its shaggy wall.

    That is where it all fell apart, however. None of the wounds seemed enough to cripple the animal. It began to fight back against the ropes, twisting one out of the hands of its holder and dragging the other in a lopsided tug-of-war. A tusk swipe caught one of the spearmen, flipping the helpless hunter who landed with a crack. Tamak tried to draw its attention, but in doing so, he put himself right in the line of the mammoth's backswing. Its tusks came back, through his spear and against his chest.

    His vision blurred from the punishing blow, or maybe from the water in his eyes. He knew his whole effort was put towards breathing, which was very hard even as he lay on his back in the snow. Save the spearhead itself, his weapon was reduced to splinters. He watched, barely conscious, as the other men tried to reach their wounded. Some of them were picked up and carried to safety, but the mammoth guarded him too closely. They were too few to challenge the beast now. His father roared and fought against the other men to go back for him, but they would not lose their leader for the sake of a boy. The fading cries he made were the most pained Tamak had ever heard him make, which was much more raw a feeling than his own coming death. He lay still, moving his bruised ribs up and down, feeling the cold creep through to his skin.
    --------------------------------
    The period after was not terribly clear to him. The cold was mostly gone, but while it was dark, he certainly wasn't dead. He could hear the wind howling just beyond. The sheltering rocks around reflected an orange glow crackling nearby. His chest still ached, but he could breathe. He reached frantically around until his fingers found his spearhead. Had he lost it and the elements not killed him, his father would.

    Somebody must have heard him stir. He could hear the shuffling of feet around him, but was too sore to move. A figure knelt down beside him, and gently lifted one of his eyelids, cracking the ice trail down his face. He could suddenly see the boy looking down at him through his one open eye. He saw the boy smile as he reacted to the stimulus, and watched him get up out of his sight once more.

    There was something very different about him Tamak noticed once he came around a bit more. He was of a big enough frame to be a few cycles older than Tamak was, but he didn't look the part. Whereas Tamak had some whiskers on his jaw, they were more than this boy had, even as pitiful as they were. His eyes were bright under a large forehead-- an almost infantile appearance compared to the familiar sloping, beady-eyed Ghuts. What struck Tamak most though, was that he thought this strange boy was attractive.

    He had enjoyed chasing the Ghut village's females as much as any other young man. He remembered using his finger to playfully trace the nipples and genitals of one girl, Naff, in secret before her wedding ceremony. He had to press his hand tight over her mouth to stifle her moans so that they wouldn't be caught. Touching her in such a way gave him a surreal, surging feeling in his loins and he usually recalled that fateful event when massaging himself before sleep. He knew it was for reproduction, and that he would have his chance once he proved himself with his first successful hunt. This was the extent of what he thought of sexual feelings so far.

    What he felt for this foreign boy, though, was disturbingly similar, but for what must have been different reasons. He didn't have supple breasts or inviting hips. Tamak turned to watch the boy dig through his supplies. His upper furs were removed, showing the smooth skin of his back. His shoulder blades and arm muscles were slender, delicate even. The light locks of hair around his neck were brushed sleek so there wasn't a single snarl. It made Tamak's heart thump in his battered chest once again. This boy was an incomprehensible rush.

    The boy turned towards him with a wooden bowl in hand, a warm smile on his lips. He just walked past Tamak to the campfire where some stew was simmering. He dipped the bowl in and handed it to Tamak, urging him to drink.

    One of a few things was certain. Either this boy was an excellent cook, or carried the stew from somebody who was. The blend of meat and herbs was just enough to cut the last of the chill from his bones. He had not had such a good meal since before the hunting trip began.

    While he drank, the boy interacted with him. He tapped his chest with his hands, and said "Kee." He said it multiple times; it must have been his name. After one more repetition, he pointed to Tamak and made a questioning sound.

    Tamak was unprepared for the question, busy as he was admiring Kee's body. He just choked on his stew, causing Kee to grin at him. He wiped his mouth and tried to get out, "Tamak."

    Kee tapped his chest and said his name again, then made fun of Tamak by pointing at him and faking a coughing fit. It wasn't meant to be too harsh, though. He immediately put his hand on the injured boy's shoulder, saying gently, "Tamak." Hearing his name with that little touch meant a lot. He smiled at his caregiver for the gesture.

    Kee grunted and stood up; he must have had an idea. Tamak watched him pull a thin stick from the fire, charred black on the tip. On a flat face of rock, he used it to mark out a few shapes resembling huts, and stick figures holding spears. He looked at Tamak to make sure he understood.

    He understood, but just sat, mesmerized. He had seen this kind of drawing in his own village before, but Kee was an excellent artist. He had never seen this boy's pictures before but knew instantly what everything was supposed to be. He kept watching as Kee drew a winding path for the ocean's shoreline and mouth of the river, dragging it inland. He drew a husky mammoth, complete with fur and curling tusks.

    Tamak smiled as Kee finished off the mammoth with a tufted tail. Even after their tragic failure with one hours ago, Tamak thought the picture was cute.

    Kee gave the stick to Tamak. He'd never drawn in his life; what could Kee expect from him? The Ghut village seemed a good subject. He gazed at the accurate map of the area, working out where his own village was in relation to the other markings on the rock. He moved the tip of the stick over the hunting party's path, finally finding a good place to put his own drawing.

    It wasn't long into his effort, however, that it wasn't going well for him. Tamak's huts and figures were barely more than random scribbles. He found himself gripping the stick tighter, grinding the tip into the rock until bits of charcoal were crumbling away to threaten his drawings into being. He was certain he looked like an idiot in the shadow of Kee's beautiful drawing ability.

    His friend was still with him, though. Kee made no fuss about his poor performance or the worsening weather outside. He just took Tamak's hand in his own, showing him exactly how much pressure to use, and to angle the stick slightly in order to draw much straighter lines. Tamak tried as hard as he could to concentrate on the lesson, but it was little use. There was no way he'd be able to focus with Kee touching his hand the way he was. Kee's skin was so warm and soft, and he was touching him so intimately; if it meant getting to stay here with him, the storm outside could last forever.
    --------------------------------
    While far from forever, the boys' session did last a long time. The walls of their cave were covered with all manner of zigzags, spirals, and other designs. They had worn out and re-charred their drawing stick so many times it had eroded away to an unusable, inches-long twig. It didn't matter much with their both shivering fiercely enough so neither of them could draw clean shapes anymore with any level of practice. They hadn't noticed in their fun that the fire was dwindling until it was down to embers, leaving them in the cold and dark.

    Reality set in again for Tamak. He was in a sabertooth cave in a blizzard, unarmed, with no fire and only an achingly, confusingly beautiful member of a rival tribe with him. At least the cold wasn't so threatening yet that he didn't feel disappointed when Kee put the rest of his furs back on. He let the images of Kee's naked torso ingrain themselves in his memory; just thinking about watching him in different postures and angles made his lower parts stir again immediately.

    Kee did not look so fortunate against the cold, though. Not only did he spend some time only half-clothed, but he was skinnier than Tamak, and probably didn't handle the temperature quite as well. The redness of the embers was enough light for Tamak to see that Kee's lips were not as pink as when he first saw them. He needed to warm up now or he might not survive the night. Tamak watched him curl up tightly next to the embers. The remains of their fire needed more wood soon, but neither boy was in any condition to search for any in the frosty night. He sat down and pressed his body tightly into Kee's, hoping it was enough to keep them both warm. He got a little smile in return.

    Huddling by the dying fire gave Tamak plenty of time to think. His mind initially filled with the new friend he held close, but eventually he got to other considerations: it was perfectly natural and vital for people to care about each other. But since it wasn't going to help reproduction, why would he feel this way for another boy?

    Kee stirred slightly, trying to stay awake to keep his body temperature up. Tamak then noticed he was slowly stroking Kee's hair around the ear, and he apparently liked it enough not to stop him. He felt the surge of that fresh kind of thrill he was getting a lot of tonight, deciding that the answer to his previous question ought to be, "Why should it matter?"

    Fatigue eventually brought the pair to lie down instead of sit, wrapping all of their furs and skins tightly around them both. Once they got comfortable together, Tamak found the night wasn't going so badly. Getting food or drink would mean pulling an arm out of their warm blanket enclave, but they had enough remaining supplies to last until they could venture out again. It was comforting for Tamak to think about going back in the morning, at least if he purged the thoughts of separating from his wonderful friend. Kee must have even warmed up a little, wrapped in Tamak's arms as he was, despite the fire's total absence now. His eyes fluttered and finally stayed closed; Tamak could feel his deeper breathing too, sure now that he was asleep.

    He remembered seeing men sleep with women this way all the time, but it was never done by two men or two women. The tribal structure was not designed for this sort of thing, so dependent on adherence to ranks and roles as it was. He was breaking that system. Tamak's euphoria for feeling how he did about Kee gave way to a sinking feeling. By loving Kee as he did, he was doing his part to harm the Ghut tribe. He might still have a wife someday, but if he did, but he could not settle for having Kee as a casual hunting partner; where would hee fit into his life then?

    A pit established itself in his stomach. His father and the others were no pushovers. If they decided what he did was bad for the tribe, he'd be exiled, or worse. Just maybe, if he was lucky, they'd let him off with a temporary punishment and insistence that he'd never to do it again. But even if they let him live, they'd see him as a freak of nature. He couldn't bear to look anyone in the eye even once more after a shameful incident like that.

    He'd never thought much about weighing his wants against family's like this. Still, the thought was thrust upon him; it was he alone who would have to decide which group deserved his loyalty. He could not betray his family for Kee's sake. He just couldn't. They were responsible for all that he was, grooming him to be a great hunter and father. But Kee was special. He saved Tamak's life, taught him art even though he had behaved badly as a student, and gave him such a high just by being close. The Ghuts and Sheneps were not on such good terms, so even interaction of their clans was out of the question. To shut him out after such a magical night would crush all hope Tamak had for the goodness of his people.

    He tried to keep quiet for the sake of Kee's sleep. Hopefully he would think Tamak was shaking from the cold instead of emotional agony. At least, by facing away from him, Kee would not notice the tears running from the corners of his eyes as he lay sideways, his face buried in Kee's hair. He took a deep breath, attempting to steel himself against his awful thoughts. There was nothing he could do about it right now; he'd be better prepared to handle it tomorrow on at least a little rest.

    His dreams were vibrant that night. He saw himself chasing antelope before having to flee from a mammoth, every bit as large as a mountain. His legs were terribly weak though; he could only run as if he were in waist-deep water, even though he saw only a grassy plain in all directions. The mammoth caught him, knocking him over with a tusk sweep into his ribs. Every time it was the same result: he'd try to get up and flee the impossibly gargantuan creature, but it would catch him again in the same exact way. Thankfully it was not too painful, giving him just a small ache, so he could get up and try to run again.

    He must have gotten away eventually. He was back at his family's hut. Kee was there, bare-chested as he was that first moment in the cave. Tamak approached, kissing him on the lips, grinding into him with wild abandon. He was glad to finally be free of misgivings about showing his lust for the beautiful boy and his lithe, firm body. In private, he didn't have to worry about his father's judgment. It was only the two of them.

    Kee's return embrace got rougher, though. He started squeezing Tamak's shoulders and shaking him violently. Tamak heard his name uttered from far off, finally realizing he was dreaming. The ache in his chest remained as he opened his eyes. He was still in the cave, its entrance now saturated in late-morning sunshine. Kee was kneeling over him, looking relieved that he was finally awake. Tamak blushed, hoping against hope he didn't act out his dreams and cause Kee to shun him for crushing embarrassment.

    That would have solved one problem, at least. There was still the matter of getting back to the village with his severed spearhead to save what face he could, let alone decide what to do with the Shenep boy he knew he could never let go. He took a deep breath to center himself, and beckoned for Kee to follow him back to the Ghut village. Though it was clear neither of them had a plausible plan of what to do once they got back, it warmed Tamak's spirits to see him eagerly agree.

    Tamak's chosen pace was brisk. His feet thumped out a spirited drumbeat on the frozen soil and between the trees into a dense region of woods. The cold air abused his throat with every breath, but he wanted to get there. Ironically, focusing on running fast was one way he would limit the dread he felt for arriving at his destination. He just channeled his desperation into drive, pumping his legs still onward.

    Wisps of smoke from the village were just visible when Kee cried out from some distance behind him. The taller, skinnier boy had been beating him for a short while, but could not cut it long-distance. He was far back on the trail, but Tamak could see he had one hand on his knee, the other reaching out, and that he was clearly in pain keeping up with the merciless speed Tamak had maintained. He continued to struggle along though, without an ounce of quit in him.

    Tamak, winded as he was too, was energized by Kee's determination. He started back to Kee, who was still gasping for air, groaning for his overworked lungs. Before he got there, however, he heard a deep, familiar voice nearby scream, "Tamak!"

    The voice belonged to his father. The huge figure burst from between some bushes to confront Kee, whom he recognized as an outsider from the Shenep settlement.

    Tamak's eyes grew wide. His father did not build a strong community through peace and restraint. He held no weapons this time, but would crack Kee over his thigh if he felt he had a hand in the Ghut's mammoth-hunting failure. He just cried "Dun!" hoping his father would care more for his safety than some half-baked revenge against a Shenep teenager.
     
  2. Gen

    Gen
    Full Member

    Joined:
    May 20, 2012
    Messages:
    4,070
    Likes Received:
    4
    Location:
    Nowhere
    First of all, I have a bone to pick with you and every post of yours that I recall you doubted your writing ability. >_>

    I loved it. Its funny because I was just talking to a friend about how annoyed I have been with many of the novels I have been reading solely because of the writer's writing style. Because of this, I have been very brutal and critical on the random fiction that I have been picking up recently. Anyway, the more I read of your writing, the more I began to enjoy your writing style. Its simple, but not negatively so. Just relaxing.

    I thought the story and the characters were very creative. I usually don't have writers block because I'm the obsessive type of writer that always has to know where they are going and plans out everything before writing. Though I frequently write myself into walls or have issues deciding how to present a certain scene. In those cases, I will usually just try to rewrite the scene. Even if I keep 90% of what I had previous written, that extra 10% of dialogue or description will usually open up a way around the wall.

    If it is specifically a matter of where to go with the story from now, I would recommend disregarding the specific scene you finished on and thinking back to when you first decided to write this story. What did you want from it? Where did you want to go? What did you want the reader to feel at the end or take away from the story? Maybe you wanted to portray a story of acceptance, or tragedy. Maybe you wanted the reader to leave it feeling a bit bitter-sweet about the situation. Etc.
     
  3. Argentwing

    Full Member

    Joined:
    Dec 13, 2012
    Messages:
    6,696
    Likes Received:
    3
    Location:
    New England
    Gender:
    Male
    Gender Pronoun:
    He
    Sexual Orientation:
    Bisexual
    Out Status:
    Out to everyone
    First of all, thanks. :grin: But when I said I doubted my writing ability, I didn't mean my actual style, per se, just my ability to make a bunch of paragraphs into a complete, meaningful story. It's really showing here >.<

    It all started when the history/origin of homosexual behavior came up in a random thread here. I postulated that there have been gay people since there have been... people, and wanted to write about what it could have been like ten or fifteen thousand years ago.

    Of course, not being an anthropologist or archaeologist (or any kind of -ologist), I don't know jack squat about prehistoric life XD. I did a teensy bit of research on Ice Age wildlife, but after that, it's just borrowing from existing tribal structures and fancy words to make it into something compelling. What I didn't do though is write with an end goal in mind, my constant bane. I just got a few scenes in my head and started at it.

    I do want to end it with Tamak and Kee getting to be together of course, and optionally having their two tribes play a little nicer with each other. The question is how to make all that happen without any language more advanced than Pictionary. I went with no language because it gave a more pensive tone to the story and forced the reader to focus on the nonverbal, just as early humans would have. It sure makes things hard though, and writing a nail-biting conclusion has stumped me so far.

    Once again though, I really appreciate your in-depth response. I'll consider redoing that last scene, because it is a tiny bit silly, but I was struggling to even put words to the page at that point. I'll see if I can figure something out. :slight_smile:
     
    #3 Argentwing, May 23, 2013
    Last edited: May 23, 2013
  4. Candace

    Regular Member

    Joined:
    May 8, 2013
    Messages:
    3,819
    Likes Received:
    0
    Location:
    Southeastern U.S.
    Gender:
    Male
    I liked the imagery that you employed within your short story. The imagery was not detrimental in recounting it. The word choice and the juxtaposing of these words gave it a kick, shall we say? I look forward to reading what you have in store for us later. Like the previous guy here said, where does the story continue from here? I would be enthralled to see what you decide to do with this story. A gold star for you. :grin:
     
  5. Gen

    Gen
    Full Member

    Joined:
    May 20, 2012
    Messages:
    4,070
    Likes Received:
    4
    Location:
    Nowhere
    That's what I meant. I thought overall stylistically and creatively, it was pretty good. But now, I see what you mean. I have no idea how to portray something like that well without real dialogue. I do know that during this era and before, humans were much more sensitive to body language, emotions, senses, similar to how animals are today. They were very good at speaking without speaking.

    A good idea when you don't have a full grasp on the "boundaries" of the world you are writing in is trying to dig deeper and figure out more aspects of the history of the world. If you have these two tribes who don't have a way of speaking, how did they sort out what was "designated" and "contested" land. How did they establish tensions. Figuring out how the world worked in the past can be useful in figuring out what can be done in the future.
     
  6. Argentwing

    Full Member

    Joined:
    Dec 13, 2012
    Messages:
    6,696
    Likes Received:
    3
    Location:
    New England
    Gender:
    Male
    Gender Pronoun:
    He
    Sexual Orientation:
    Bisexual
    Out Status:
    Out to everyone
    That is some great advice :grin: I'll definitely do more thinking about the "politics" so to speak. It might give me some clues to using the cave encounter to fix the hostilities, essentially killing one bird with the other bird and not having to use the stone at all. :stuck_out_tongue_closed_eyes:
     
    #6 Argentwing, May 24, 2013
    Last edited: May 24, 2013
  7. BMC77

    Full Member

    Joined:
    Feb 27, 2013
    Messages:
    3,267
    Likes Received:
    107
    Location:
    USA
    Gender:
    Male
    Gender Pronoun:
    He
    Sexual Orientation:
    Gay
    Out Status:
    A few people
    Disclaimer: I have not read as carefully and critically as I should. It's Friday night, I'm a bit worn, and have some wine pelting through my veins as we speak...er...post on a forum.

    That said...you are a good writer. You could hand me parts of the above, tell me they were excerpts from a Big Name Author's work, and I'd believe it.

    The one possible area that might be a problem I notice is factual, and could be something no one would agree about. But it's: "But since it wasn't going to help reproduction, why would he feel this way for another boy?" At some point, I heard it suggested that it was a long time before people made the connection between sex and a baby. Not sure if that's true or not, and how you'd even prove it at this point... But you might have had homophobia back then in a form that a man of the tribe only sleeps with a woman...

    Perhaps I'm too nitpicky above...but that one thing did sort of leap out at me...

    As for the end, I don't think it's a good idea asking us. It's your world, your story... Somehow, a writer needs to have faith. I remember someone (a writer, I think, but I can't remember the name) who said that writing a novel is like driving a car at night--you can only see as far as the headlights go, but that's enough.

    ---------- Post added 25th May 2013 at 12:06 AM ----------

    I dabble with fiction. No impressive accomplishments, apart from completing NaNoWriMo last year. But--as you may have discovered with your own writing--I've had countless scenes that just don't work on the first try. But when I rewrite them (sometimes making changes), they work better. Sometimes the scene that doesn't work seems to be a necessary growing/feeling my way phase. Your mileage may vary, of course...