I've Hit a 31,000+ Word Count. Now Can I Get Back to Work?

As Nanowrimo comes a close tomorrow, I find myself saying that I got close enough to the goal of nanowrimo. Even though I didn't actually reach the 50,000 goal... I am definitely giving myself a pat on the back [And you should too--for all that you've accomplished] for writing a story in 30 days.

I keep asking myself, "Now can I get back to work?". And when I say getting back to work: I mean business. You know . . . that fanfiction that I was doing so well on updating that I suddenly neglected; due to being eventually overwhelmed by writing and creating a story for nanowrimo? Yeah, that one. 

I'm pretty sure that even though I left a little pardoning note with the one chapter I managed to turn out this month of November, was followed by a note that I would be participating in Nanowrimo--and updates would be a little slow until December.

Can't say that my fellow followers could possibly be a little antsy, even though the chapter turned out on a good note this time and not some cliffhanger. You're welcome. 

Now back to work :)

May I: You Okay?

As they were driving back to the office, Ben tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to see if Cal was paying attention, or if he was zoned out in his own thoughts. Ben quickly concluded the latter, and focused his eyes back on the road.

Pretty soon, Cal was fiddling with tuning the radio, and Ben scowled impatiently. “Would you not touch the radio while I’m driving?” Grasping the steering wheel tightly, he exhaled. “Look—whatever is going on with you and Gillian is none of my business—”

May I: Hand In My Pocket

As Cal walked into the scene about fifteen minutes later, Ben Reynolds looked a little confused to why he was the only one there, when he clearly asked for Foster as well. In fact, Cal was prepared for the question, before the question registered to Reynolds.

“Where’s Foster?” It was like an ‘ah-ha moment’ as Ben peered around to make sure that Gillian hadn’t stopped somewhere—or he hadn’t missed her coming in.

May I: Distracted

Contemplating going to see Ava at the hospital, with Sophie in the back seat—Gillian had been preparing all morning to see her. That is until she heard the news of the bus explosion coming over the car radio.

Thinking about what Cal had said last night—something about this case, tugged at her. She turned around in a shopping parking lot and had gotten to the office within an hour. It hadn’t occurred to what she was going to do with Sophie as she picked her up and went through the back entrance of the building.

Luckily, the little girl had fallen asleep just before they had arrived. Gillian had frowned at the little girl. It could have just been that the last little while had been rough for both Ava and Sophie, but she was starting to get concerned that she was sleeping so much.

I'm Still Here: All We Are

"From the day that I held you in my arms" He cupped his hands side by side as if he were cradling a small baby. "I had a feeling that you were going to be my last one, and I didn't want to bring myself to disappointment that…" He realized and felt ashamed of the words that were running through his head.

"That I was another girl." Her mouth twitched, "I was told that her last pregnancy was your last chance of having a boy." She filled him. He sat there, finally leaning back against his chair. "What I don't get is when did you realize you had four daughters?"

I'm Still Here: Closure

Megan steps towards an old familiar coffee shop. In stride, her gaze catches the overhead of a scarlet red and a faded yellow pattern of the overhead as she crosses the street. The shop was owned by an old neighbor, mid twenties; widowed and had a son who was almost the same age as she was. If instinct was right, that same boy now all grown up, was in that same shop today. His enthusiastic demeanor just like his own father, who as she sees it, is still working right beside his son.

A smirk plays upon her lips, seeing a middle aged man she recognizes as her neighbor through the shop window. As she enters she looks upwards toward the same familiar ring of the bell above the door. Her hand pulls off the handle, and the man gazes at her with familiarity as she scans the surrounding tables and stands in the middle of the brown and white checkered tile floor.

She is keenly aware from the corner of her eye that he is leaning against the handle of his broom that he had been sweeping with but she continues to search the premises until her green eyes strike a chord with another familiar face. Her father, to whom he raises a hand to her in greeting. Instinctively she senses the pattern of apprehension as he rests his hand back on the table in front of him.

Happy Thanksgiving!

HOPE YOU ALL HAVE A HAPPY AND SAFE THANKSGIVING! 

 

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Peter Piper, picked a bunch of peppers…

As we get down to the very end of nanowrimo, I have to say that I'm quite surprised at the outcome--but could not forget to leave out the fact that I'm panicking a little as the days dwindle down to nothing. Being able to keep up the writing for most of the time, I finally succumbed to not writing for a little bit and took a break.

So here I am . . . cramming and writing a bunch of things that have come from the creativity of my mind. I'm spending every minute tapping on the computer, and trying to write as much as I can because it’s Thanksgiving weekend. Not to mention that this week is going to be kind of chaotic.

I’m kind of afraid that time will slip away from me. In fact, I’m pretty sure that it already has, and I haven’t written as much as I wanted to in hopes of catching up.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. And whatever the plans may be in my head, aren’t the same out loud—especially after traveling for many hours and reaching destination and home on the same day.

I'm Still Here: This Is My Now

Time drew on and the rain had grown to an almost pour. She hadn't changed the position of stance as her piercing green eyes stared out the window, not even once in the last twenty minutes. He waited patiently, one hand resting on the curve of the bed. If there was anything he had learned in his life, it was patience.

Just like he knew the ways of advanced mathematics, she was a profiler, a psychologist who understood the human emotions and could tap in without difficulty into other's minds, drawing out whatever she needed. That's what made her so good. She pushed away her own, focused on the case at hand and she knew that she would have to reverse the process and then some in order to get herself out of this one.

May I: About Existence

Sitting out of a deep sleep, Gillian sat up in the dark and let out a dry cough. After the spell of coughing, she looked over at the clock and groaned. The neon green numbers flashed 5:13 AM. She groaned and ran her fingers through her hair. 

She could hear Sophie beside her, breathing heavily and stirring in her sleep. There was no way that she was going to be able to back to sleep now being wide awake. So she left the door cracked open and went into the bathroom and closed the door.

May I: Involvement

Usually Gillian would have sat down next to Cal when they all had dinner together. Tonight however, she had seated herself on the other side of Emily. Sophie had climbed into Gillian’s lap, refusing to get off—but that could have something to do with the fact that she had a banana in her hand.

Before she could get it cut up, Sophie had stuffed most of it into her mouth. Emily was the first to notice. “Somebody was hungry.” Gillian peered around and Sophie looked over at her, eyes sparkling with a devious smile.

I'm Still Here: Dreaming Out Loud

Running her hotel card for entrance to the room, she pushed down on the handle and entered. "Larry?" It was almost after twelve now. After the talk with her father she needed some time to collect her emotions before returning so she had driven a couple blocks to a park to where she had gone with her friends after school.

"Megan" Larry greeted with a smile as he rounded the corner. The lamp on the right was on, glowing softly upon the couch beside the place he had been occupying. At first glance she looked slightly ruffled. A smile curled on her lips indicated a partial weight that had been lifted off of her shoulders. He embraced her in a friendly hug, her tension slowly releasing as she pulled back from his hold. "I take it your meeting with your dad was quite contrary to what you assumed?"

From My Nano Mailbox

Thought I would share this with you (from my nano mailbox): 

First, congratulations on making it through week one! I hope you had a good time, and that your story cooperated. Even if it didn't. the fact that you're even trying means that you're doing something amazing.

Now, for the bad news... it's time for Week Two. Week Two is like a depressed sulky teenager. Your characters may stop cooperating with you, and just sit there staring at you dumbly. Your villain may refuse to do anything villainous. You may despair of ever finishing this novel, and wonder why you thought you could. Well, don't panic! This happens to many writers during NaNo, and lots of people get through it.

To help you get through it, here's some tips:

* Make sure you write something every day. Even if it's not as much as you need, write. Every word helps.

* Try using word sprints. Set a timer for 15 minutes, and write as fast as you can. You'll be surprised.

* Do something crazy. Add ninjas. Blow up a building. Make your characters join the circus.

If you need advice, feel free to post on the forums, or hop into the chatroom. It's been busy this year, and there is almost always someone ready to answer your questions. You can find the link on the forums. While on the forums, make sure to check out the regional calendar. We have lots of events scheduled, and hopefully there's one near you. If there's not, and you feel like organizing one, please do. And then let me know, and I'll post it in the calendar!

One last note: Today is the first 'Back Up Your Novel Day'. Nothing sucks more than creating an amazing (or at least not horrible) novel, and then losing it. So, back it up! Email it to yourself. 

Copy it to a flash drive. Set up a Dropbox account. Print out a copy and store it in a safe. Whatever makes you feel confident it won't get lost. Just make sure you have copies in more than one place.

Thank you all for being such a great group. I really appreciate how easy you all make my job.

Matthew Walker
Happy Cat Herder

----

Okay, so anything that encourages bringing in the ninjas and blowing up buildings . . . I'm all in. But wait! Do the ninjas blow up the building? Or does that require turning the characters of the story into ninjas first? I think either would be interesting. While we're at it, let's blow up a boat. Throw some fruits and vegetables at the corn. Learn how to fly while on a motorcycle. 

Now what ideas can you think of to break the Nanowrimo writer's block?  

Survival Mode

When I was walking outside in the cold winter’s night—bundled up pretty much from head to toe—my hand around the leash that kept my dog from getting too far ahead. It started off as nothing, but the mores steps I took—the more I thought about how it would be to sleep outside, and how long one could be out there before one froze.

In my mind, I added in a blow up mattress, a cabin or tree house and best of all—ten layers of blankets. Somehow, I didn’t think that I would ever be able to do that. So the next best thing was torturing my Sims.

That’s right—I’m not writing at the moment. At least not for the thing I’m supposed to be writing for. In fact, I feel like the Sim I’m torturing, and making her sell fish while she lives in a tent.

The Tale Finally Comes to Life

I really wasn't planning on staying up until three in the morning, but after an abundance of Halloween candy and a night full of movies, I found myself up and writing at the computer. Starting the beginning of a 50,000 word story is particularly hard because I seem to want to come up with the best sentence that I can come up with, followed by much erasing . . . writing . . . and then erasing again.


I'm kind of surprised that I was even up that late, since the night before I had been sick and up to midnight and on twitter because I couldn't sleep. And this morning, our door rang at the lovely time of 7:30 AM, and couldn't go back to sleep--so what better way than to write and add onto the epilogue excerpt to my story.This is my third year participating in Nanowrimo, and every year it tends to get a little better and more planned. So I came up with a short photo shoot to introduce my main character just briefly, as well as an excerpt from my story, "Broken".





Meet Dr. Marian Jacobsen
Yes, the red head that I've been using for the headers to introduce details of my story. I have no idea how I came up with her. I'm pretty sure that it was just a random moment where I got really interested to create a story.