Well, all (blog) evidence to the contrary, I am still chugging away with Nano! I’m aiming for 35,000 words today. I am one part impressed with myself and another part mildly disappointed with the direction my story is headed. However! It is too late to change horses now. I am going to finish this bad boy if it kills me. Which is, I suppose, the soul of Nanowrimo!
I have some ideas for the chick lit Nano I’d like to write this fall. But I’m trying to not let that distract me from my current project. Work is work, and life is life.
Ines folded her hands. “And perhaps, we will have a weapon.”
Only wrote half my goal for Friday, but catching up today. I hate playing catch-up.
Maggie promised to bring back a slice of cake for Ines and disappeared into the milling people. She weaved through the crowd and felt oddly grateful for once that she was shorter than average. Once she found a spot at the buffet, she seized a plate from Moses’s younger sister and began to pile food onto it as quickly as she could: cornbread, roasted pig-rib, molasses cookies, stewed mustard greens, plum fritters, nuts, and egg-cakes. She downed a cup of sarsparilla and retired to the shade of a tree to eat. Not wishing to stain her good gloves, Maggie pulled them off and stuffed them into her pockets. On account of rarely having the chance to eat so well, she polished off the plate fairly quickly, and got up for a second serving of her favored bits–the pig-rib and the plum fritters. As she chewed dreamily at the cartilage on her pig-rib, she could feel someone approaching her behind the tree.
Surprised that I am still on track. Today’s Nano excerpt:
Suddenly she could see the sound: an unending canvas of black and white pinpoints, where each pinpoint was a prick of pain. Out of the pinpoints something slow and terrible rolled underneath, and Maggie could see nothing else. She was blind to everything but the indistinct shapes forming and shifting.
Nano is going, and Ray Bradbury died today. It strikes me that the story I’m currently writing has something to do with the kind of stories that he wrote, and he has everything to do with the kind of stories that I love. I still remember picking The Martian Chronicles out of a paperback rack, interested in the golden cover; reading the book took me out of my life in the best way possible. Then there was just the concept of The Illustrated Man: the vagrant with the living tattoos: “Sometimes at night I can feel them, the pictures, like ants, crawling on my skin. Then I know they’re doing what they have to do. I never look at them any more. I just try to rest. I don’t sleep much. Don’t look at them either, I warn you.” Dark addictive stuff.
So, to celebrate the body of his work, some Bradbury quotables:
“Go to the edge of the cliff and jump off. Build your wings on the way down.”
“Important thing is not the me that’s lying here, but the me that’s sitting on the edge of the bed looking back at me, and the me that’s downstairs cooking supper, or out in the garage under the car, or in the library reading. All the new parts, they count. I’m not really dying today. No person ever died that had a family.” -grandmother, Dandelion Wine
Slowing down a bit this week but I’m still on target!
It seemed to her that most of the town’s aldermen tended to be Westcotts, and Mr. Jacob Westcott in particular had held that title for the last four years. Maggie recalled that he smelled like mothballs and expensive moonshine. He was posting something to the notice board; Maggie squinted some more. She scraped the last bit of rosy peach flesh off the pit with her front teeth –only slightly rotten–and spat out the pit from her perch.
Chapter one is complete! Onwards to the next chapter! Onwards onwards onwards!
Excerpt for today:
Ines looked at her with an unreadable look in her eyes. “Maggie-girl. There’s no getting away for even me, dear. Far away as I am. Being a No-Eye–is that what they call you, little mouse?–it means that you are as far away as far away can be.” She paused. “I’m glad that you don’t have the Eye, Maggie. Sometimes it’s better not to See.”
I’m doing Camp Nanowrimo this June. Therefore I probably won’t have proper postings for the next thirty days, but in lieu of that: excerpts!
She could already see Molly-girl approaching, a splash of curly brick-brown fur and a dab of pink tongue bounding towards the bus. In anticipation, Maggie peeled off her gloves, stuffed them into her pockets and swung down the bus steps, picking up speed as she ran to meet the barking, wild-haired dog.