In Word

Wow.  How did that number get so big?  Apparently November is slipping by as fast as the rest of the year.

Yesterday, I wrote a little bit for the first time in…seven or eight days.  Yes, I’ve done it again and saved all the work for the last week and a half.  I don’t know why I can’t just be normal and write a little every day like everyone else.

Current word count is 22,079.  About 4,000 from the past 24 hours.

The story itself is absolutely laughable.  I don’t think I have enough plot to believably fill the 50,000 words, so it’s become almost a character study—getting into the brains of multiple characters, playing around with dialogue, and realizing that the main character I intended to write about is by far the most boring one in the story.  Bummer.

I guess that’s NaNoWriMo for you.

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On Saturday, ARC journeyed to New Braunfels for the first round robin of the year.  It almost goes without saying that we enjoyed ourselves, hung out with lots of cool people, and had abnormal amounts of fun talking about the environment.  I mean…what else would we do?  (LD people, you don’t have to answer that question.)

Happy debaters—and a happy debate coach!

Former partners, turned LDers.

These guys…well, they had lots of fun.  Maybe more fun than should be humanly possible.

Danielle and Christina, two loverly ladies.

It’s just kinda fun to scare people with the Maisano/Morgan name.  (The initial fear doesn’t usually last long, but oh well.)

Afterward, we went out for dinner and checked out ballots.  Fun stuff.

So, it was a good day.  Full of friends and debates and candy and pizza and all sorts of awesome things.  What could be better?

(For those of you wondering about NaNoWriMo…no, I’m not giving up just yet.  Yes, the word count widget on the right is accurate.  It’s so much more fun to make an epic comeback in the last week…right?)

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I never really thought about forgiveness.  It’s always so easy to nod and smile when someone apologizes for speaking unkindly, or doing something they shouldn’t have done, or not doing something they should have done—because really, even though things like that might sting at first, it’s only reactionary.  It doesn’t hurt, deep down inside.  We can overlook it and move on.

But that’s not forgiveness.

Forgiveness is the pain—gut-wrenching, exhausting pain—endured.

Forgiveness is the heat of anger coursing in your veins, twisting your stomach—forgotten.

Forgiveness is the sick feeling of unspoken justice—accepted.

Forgiveness is the knowledge seared in your mind, the unfading memory—ignored.

Forgiveness is the unbearable weight of all the tears—lifted.

Forgiveness is the burning desire to condemn—silenced.

Forgiveness is the consummation of everything your battered heart craves, the wild longing for rectitude—let go.

Forgiveness is the death of self.

“For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you.  But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.” –Matthew 6:14-15

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Word Count:  15,056.

Yes!  I wrote 56 words over the past three days!

But I also went to the lake with wonderful friends, had a fun orchestra practice, worked on essays for school, and edited and (almost) memorized a speech for competition on Saturday.  It’s been a good week.

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Word Count: 15,000

Just wanted to post that, because it makes me rather happy.  Week one of NaNoWriMo has come to a close!

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Word Count: 11,353

Yes, I wrote practically nothing today and yesterday.

This is what comes about when you toss two characters together just for the sake of dialogue, and then try to coax some life out of them.  It’s fun in the sense that I threw historical accuracy out the window and just played with it.  Not so fun in the fact that it’s hard to coax life out of two rather flat characters.

For those of you who were so kind as to comment on the last excerpt…well, I won’t even try to give a disclaimer.

All you who are embarking on your first NaNoWriMo, or considering it for next time: read and understand the absolute truth of the statement “quantity, not quality.”

—

Lilly paused a moment, and then decided that he had no right to treat her thus.  She ran a few steps and stood to face him again.  He didn’t appear surprised.

“What’s your name?” she demanded.

“Joel Delaney.  Second lieutenant.”

“Lilly Maloch.”  She paused.  “Laundress.”  She tried hard to keep any insincerity out of her voice, and was satisfied upon seeing the corner of Joel’s mouth turn up in a crooked smile.

“You do laundry?” he asked after a moment, as if giving in to her small-talk.  “From the looks of it, the boys in here need it.”

“Of course they do.  That’s why I do it.”  She tossed her hair over her shoulder.  “You said your name’s Delaney?  It sounds familiar.”

He shrugged.

Lilly brightened suddenly.  She always appreciated it when she remembered something important—or not so important.

“It’s in Erasmus’s book!” she said triumphantly, and he raised an eyebrow.  “He’s writing a story.”

“Erasmus?  Can’t say I know the man.”

“You do too.  He counts heads three times a day.”  She grinned.

“Ah.  The clerk.  What’s this about the story?”

“He likes to write, and he borrows his names from his lists.  Congratulations, Mr. Delaney.  You’re his main character.”

Joel blinked.  “He doesn’t even know me.”

“Well, he does now.  Or he knows the paper version, anyway.”

“That’s ridiculous.  What’s he writing about?”

“A prison escape.”

She saw him start, and his eyes shifted toward the floorboards.

“A prison escape?”

“Yes.  It’s positively ingenious.”

Lilly eyed him sideways, wondering whether he’d continue to press for more.  He didn’t appear too interested, regardless of his featured position in the tale.  How rude of him.  He ought to at least pretend to show interest.

She sighed a little and turned to leave.

“Well, I don’t suppose you find that terribly fascinating, Mr. Delaney, regardless of the pains I took to tell you.”

He didn’t appear to take that bait, either.  “Well, I hope the pains will leave you shortly.”

She frowned darkly.  “Good day, Mr. Delaney!”

He tipped his hat to her as she left.

—

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Word Count: 10,046

At the risk of sounding much the same as yesterday and discouraging any further visits to this uninteresting blog…today’s writing was quite uneventful.  My one small victory was in scribbling out a short-term outline in a notebook.  I now have at least a few thousand words planned out.  Who knows where it’ll go after that?

One-fifth of the way there.  That makes me happy.

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Word Count: 9,011

Today, I managed to put on paper a few pointless rambles that would have been best off remaining in a character’s brain.  Then I stuck another character in solitary confinement when he ought to be meeting people and getting the plot moving.  Hard to meet people in solitary confinement.  Another character, the delightful Erasmus Ross, has discovered that he enjoys writing and is overcoming his addiction to cliches.  Hey, don’t laugh.  It’s a big deal for him.

So, 9,000 words into this story, there’s really not much of a story at all—it would better be described as a rather uninteresting narrative of three rather uninteresting lives.  Here’s hoping they’ll do something interesting sometime soon.

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Word Count: 8,024

—

A shriek split the air.

The burlap slipped in Joel’s fingers, and he grabbed it before it fell to the ground.  The soldiers on either side looked around, searching.

The scream came again, louder and more urgent.  Joel dropped the bag and spun to face the canal, eyes racing along the edge.  He could have sworn there had been two children running by the water.

Now there was one.

He lunged forward, slamming into one of the soldiers full-force.  The man fell back, thrown off balance.  Frantic hands reached out to grab his arms.

“There’s someone in the water!” he shouted, pulling away.

He could feel his feet pounding on the dirt, hear the wild cries from behind.  Pursuit or rescue?

“Stop!  I’ll shoot!”

Joel’s feet skidded ten yards from the edge.  Something was churning beneath the muddy water, and a flailing arm broke the surface.  Throwing up his hands, Joel turned around.

“I’m here.  Get her out!”

One of the guards grabbed his elbow, and another shoved the tip of a bayonet against his chest.  Joel twisted around—Terrence was at the water’s edge, reaching for the girl’s hand.

“Jump in, you fool—she’s too far out!” he cried.

Terrence pulled back.  “I can’t swim…”

Anger coursed through Joel’s veins.  Wrenching his right arm free, he swung his fist into the soldier’s jaw and dove for the water.  He didn’t reach it.  The butt of a rifle struck him across the shoulder blades, and he hit the ground on his stomach.  Dirt stung his eyes.  He choked, reaching blindly for the water.

He couldn’t hear the splashing anymore.

Someone had bent his arm at the elbow and was forcing it up toward his shoulder.  “Get off!” he screamed, his voice sounding hoarse and unnatural.  “She’s drowning!”

Voices were shouting from the direction of the street, and footsteps raced toward the canal.  Somewhere a child was crying.

The water had gone still and silent.

—

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Eight hours into NaNoWriMo!

My word count stands at 3,004 after last night’s first burst of writing.  Remember tip #1 from the post below this one?  I’m already adapting.  Somehow, my MC didn’t turn out quite as I expected.  In fact, he’s downright boring.  But that prison clerk, Erasmus Ross…now there is a guy with a story.

I didn’t realize what was happening till I had a page of writing about the poor MC, and was well on my way toward a chapter dedicated to Erasmus.

We’ll see what happens with that.  As it is, I’m happy to have reached the 3k mark.  Going for 5k today at the least.

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