In Word

Weakness and strength—strange that two opposites should be so unavoidably wrapped up in a person’s life.  Over the past year, I’ve realized more and more just how weak I really am.  But at the same time, it’s only when I realize my weakness…that I see His strength.

This was written last year.  I’m not a poet, or a song writer, or anything close, but I guess this is more in the style of song lyrics than anything else:

Broken
An empty body, useless hands
Weakened
No one sees me; I’m alone
My sightless eyes are open
But I can’t see where to go
I am frail
I am nothing without you.

If you’re my rock and you’re my fortress,
All the world sits at your feet
If you can free the lonely captive
Set the raging waves at peace
Then help me to be nothing
Make me small so you may grow
Give me the weakness to be strong.

I feel you
Your power shines in my defeat
I wonder
Have you shown yourself to the weak?
When I lose myself in arrogance
Your face becomes obscured
So I wait
And I see you through the pain.

Forgotten
They pass you by, don’t see you there
Troubled
They’ll try harder, pretend they don’t care
Still they don’t understand the beauty
The paradox of God
At their weakest
There is one who will make them strong.

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A mother, young and perhaps frightened, great with child and in a place altogether strange to her.  Within her lies the very essence of God in human form.  Without is the world he has come to save, the world that, even now, is passing him by—a foreshadow of mankind’s ultimate rejection.

She does not speak this night, for the baby presses within her.  Her fingers tighten on her husband’s arm.  The warm air chokes her, and the suffocating crowd presses all around to her front and back, pulling the couple along.  Bethlehem is full, too full to accept that which was prophesied to come.  Too noisy to hear the brush of angel’s wings as they descend upon the quiet fields beyond the city walls.

Her husband takes her hand, his jaw working in suppressed frustration.  With his free arm he clears a path and hurries forward.  His eyes flit from the dark street ahead to the young face of his wife, so full of anguish.  He knows that she cannot go on, and his gaze locks on the inn just ahead.  There at the door stands the innkeeper, stroking his beard in amazement at the great crowds.

The husband moves faster, hears the cry that escapes his wife’s lips.  He calls out to the keeper in his native Hebrew tongue.  The man turns, shaking his head and holding up his hands against their pleas.  The inn is full.  Every inn is full.  His eyes fall upon the wife, her belly swollen and her face shining pale in the darkness.  Suddenly he softens, and, raising a weathered hand, points—the stable.  The stable is empty.

The radiance of a thousand angels lights the night sky.  They wait, listening and watching.  And then the feeble cry of a baby is sent heavenward, God and man made one.

Christ is come.

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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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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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