Nanowrimo 2013, Day Twenty Five. Words On Top.

I had the weekend off writing and enjoyed myself. It was very nice and I really needed those hours to gather some senses. Sadly brain had decided to consider this project nearly over and so has drawn me to sitting quietly and listening to music to find the mood for the next one.

Damn.

For now though I have the finishing chapters to do on this Nanowrimo project and I think it's probably better than I was dreading it would be.I am aware the edit will be hideous on it due to my inability to find the right tone for large sections of the book, but then none of my edits are easy.

I need one of those things... you know, those things other people have that cost money... Ah, yes; an editor. :-) Though for now I'll do the job and rely on test readers to tell me to piss off if things suck.

I cranked out 2396 words today, making my total 52,456 in total, which is excellent! I'm well above curve and still moving and I'm pleased I didn't give up on this as I was planning to mid month.

As an example I'm not going to touch the posted words at all today. I'm going to leave them as they came out. Already I can see things that need sorting immediately, odd worded sentences and the like, but I'll resist the urge to make them slightly prettier so you can see my point about needing heavy edits.

Anyway, here are some words from the day...

     Britney Usher sat down on the chair nearest to her, her knees pushed together, her ankles quite widely apart, her arms wrapped around her, as though she were hugging herself. She looked so alone, separate, and alone compared to the supported and loved Arnie, who had just made his confession and yet was still comforted.

     I made a decision of my own. I would do something that felt un-natural to me and yet I felt the urge to do it anyway. I walked over to the shattered and shaken Britney Usher, knelt down, and hugged her. She laid her head on my shoulder and then reached her arms around me, gently, unsure, fragile. I hugged her harder and those arms of hers attached like the most aggressive octopus in history and squeezed me hard, desperately, her arms shifting, her hands gripping my thick coat with her balled fists, but she didn’t cry. She didn’t try and cop a feel, she just held on for life like she couldn’t let go even if she’d wanted to.

     I knew the three second rule was a waste of time here; certainly in this situation, and I felt not just warmer for her embrace physically but also I felt I was doing something actively nice. Something even compassionate. 


There you go. More tomorrow I hope. :-)

Thanks for reading.