So...I got a little behind yesterday, too.
This is partly because I'm lazy, and partly because I didn't get a dinner break like I presumed, and in which I planned to write.
BUT...I hate it when people make excuses, which is exactly what that is. Dinner break or not, I should have gotten 1,667 words.
Instead, yesterday's word count was: 1,550
Friday, November 6, 2009
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
NaNo Report on Day 3
I don't really want to talk about yesterday. I am tired and disgruntled. As I was washing the filter holder thingamajig (see? this is why I want to be a writer...how could I refuse, when I'm so aware of the technical names for everything), I pushed my coffee pot onto the floor.
This means, of course, no coffee, which makes for a very grumpy Shelly Quade. (You might want to just leave now, before my wrath is transferred to you...)
Yesterday's word count: 1,816 words
This means, of course, no coffee, which makes for a very grumpy Shelly Quade. (You might want to just leave now, before my wrath is transferred to you...)
Yesterday's word count: 1,816 words
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
NaNo Reporting on Day Two
Yesterday went much more slowly. I feel more awake, though, despite the fact that chamomile is slowly making its' way down my throat (I couldn't resist! It smells so good...), so, we'll see.
Enough talking! I have work to do.
Yesterday's word count: 1973
Enough talking! I have work to do.
Yesterday's word count: 1973
Monday, November 2, 2009
I Know, I Know, I Haven't Posted in Forever
Isn't it fun, though, when life gets super busy and then November gets here and you realize you committed yourself to writing 1,667 words a day?
By busy, of course, I mean slowly reading Stephen King's It and occasionally opening a word document when you're not working and staring at the screen as the story has halted.
Then again, it's November, which means working on an entirely new story!
I'm not going to lie, I'm pretty tired right now. So let me just report on yesterday and work on the NaNo story.
Yesterday, I woke up about 10:30ish, got my Starbucks, discovered that both Starbucks & Borders were pretty full at the moment, went to Purdue's union and got a little over 600 words done.
Then, I went to my first write-in EVER, regretted not having brought my headphones (while hearing other people talking can be distracting, it creeps me out not to have any sound around me), and wrote over 3,000 words more. So, yeah. Creepy or not, I've gotta recommend attending write-ins, if at all possible.
Yesterday's total word count: 3,801
P.S. If you feel like further procrastinating, Maureen Johnson wrote a blog post about NaNo.
By busy, of course, I mean slowly reading Stephen King's It and occasionally opening a word document when you're not working and staring at the screen as the story has halted.
Then again, it's November, which means working on an entirely new story!
I'm not going to lie, I'm pretty tired right now. So let me just report on yesterday and work on the NaNo story.
Yesterday, I woke up about 10:30ish, got my Starbucks, discovered that both Starbucks & Borders were pretty full at the moment, went to Purdue's union and got a little over 600 words done.
Then, I went to my first write-in EVER, regretted not having brought my headphones (while hearing other people talking can be distracting, it creeps me out not to have any sound around me), and wrote over 3,000 words more. So, yeah. Creepy or not, I've gotta recommend attending write-ins, if at all possible.
Yesterday's total word count: 3,801
P.S. If you feel like further procrastinating, Maureen Johnson wrote a blog post about NaNo.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
November is Encroaching...
And with it comes the necessity of writing the 50,000+ novel I committed to writing this year.
Any NaNo participants who want to follow my journey, or share their own, are encouraged to leave a comment. (I love comments, considering them to be much like Edward Cullen - sexy, sparkly, creepy little things, strung together to become perfection itself.)
To introduce my work, of which I now have an outline, and character names, I *think* it's chick lit. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure of the genre. It follows a couple of the relationships of a young female protagonist, neither of which was complementary to her, and how she begins to heal from both of these relationships (or at least, one).
How about you? What is your book summary this year? Or vague ideas floating in your head? Or anything else you feel like sharing?
Any NaNo participants who want to follow my journey, or share their own, are encouraged to leave a comment. (I love comments, considering them to be much like Edward Cullen - sexy, sparkly, creepy little things, strung together to become perfection itself.)
To introduce my work, of which I now have an outline, and character names, I *think* it's chick lit. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure of the genre. It follows a couple of the relationships of a young female protagonist, neither of which was complementary to her, and how she begins to heal from both of these relationships (or at least, one).
How about you? What is your book summary this year? Or vague ideas floating in your head? Or anything else you feel like sharing?
Friday, October 9, 2009
A Bump in the Night
Sarah gasped and sat straight up in bed. Like many of her dreams, she could not retain this one. She only knew that it had been a nightmare, that goosebumps littered her arms, that she didn't want to move, and that she really had to pee.
She remained motionless for several moments, debating the necessity of going to the restroom as opposed to causing bladder damage, and then thought to herself, This is ridiculous. You're not five - get out of bed and go to the bathroom. A light breeze fluttered through the window she didn't remember having opened, and Sarah shivered. And grab a robe so you don't freeze on the way.
Lowering her hand to the floor beside the bed, Sarah's fingers grasped the warm fleece of her blue bathrobe. Before she had time to pull the robe up, however, a charred hand abruptly reached out from beneath her bed and gripped her arm, searing her flesh...
Sarah gasped and sat straight up in bed. Like many of her dreams, she could not retain this one. The image of a blue bathrobe she didn't own was prominent in her mind, goosebumps littered her arms, she didn't want to move, and she had to pee. Badly.
She remained motionless for several moments, debating the necessity of going to the restroom as opposed to causing bladder damage, and then said, "What, do you think the Bogeyman's going to grab you or something if you step off of the bed?" Her voice was loud and harsh in the dark silence of the house.
Swinging her legs off of the bed, Sarah was walking towards the door when the trunk she had forgotten about moving to the foot of her bed attacked her shin. "Ow!" she cried, and then bit her lip. She didn't want to wake her family. So she suffered in silence as she hobbled through her bedroom door, down the hallway, and into the bathroom.
The next morning, as she sat at the table eating toast, her mother came into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. "What," she asked, pointing at Sarah's right leg, "is that?"
On Sarah's shin, a large, raised purple and blue bruise was prominent and painful to touch. "That," Sarah replied, "is my bump in the night."
Her mother didn't seem to think her pun funny.
She remained motionless for several moments, debating the necessity of going to the restroom as opposed to causing bladder damage, and then thought to herself, This is ridiculous. You're not five - get out of bed and go to the bathroom. A light breeze fluttered through the window she didn't remember having opened, and Sarah shivered. And grab a robe so you don't freeze on the way.
Lowering her hand to the floor beside the bed, Sarah's fingers grasped the warm fleece of her blue bathrobe. Before she had time to pull the robe up, however, a charred hand abruptly reached out from beneath her bed and gripped her arm, searing her flesh...
Sarah gasped and sat straight up in bed. Like many of her dreams, she could not retain this one. The image of a blue bathrobe she didn't own was prominent in her mind, goosebumps littered her arms, she didn't want to move, and she had to pee. Badly.
She remained motionless for several moments, debating the necessity of going to the restroom as opposed to causing bladder damage, and then said, "What, do you think the Bogeyman's going to grab you or something if you step off of the bed?" Her voice was loud and harsh in the dark silence of the house.
Swinging her legs off of the bed, Sarah was walking towards the door when the trunk she had forgotten about moving to the foot of her bed attacked her shin. "Ow!" she cried, and then bit her lip. She didn't want to wake her family. So she suffered in silence as she hobbled through her bedroom door, down the hallway, and into the bathroom.
The next morning, as she sat at the table eating toast, her mother came into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. "What," she asked, pointing at Sarah's right leg, "is that?"
On Sarah's shin, a large, raised purple and blue bruise was prominent and painful to touch. "That," Sarah replied, "is my bump in the night."
Her mother didn't seem to think her pun funny.
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