The fabled NaNoWriMo is starting tomorrow. Though I wanted to do it last year, but never got the chance, I decided I will this year. The basics is to just write a 50k word novel (to me, it's more of a novella...) and submit it. Simple. Unless you're like me and have a short attention span. Anywho... who else is joining? It'd be interesting to see some friends and acquaintances participate. And to add, you're supposed to do it all within the month of November. So... November 30th is when it ends. 50k to be declared a winner...

Yay...

So! Who all else is joining?

Edit: And yes, I just realized I misspelled the topic title.

Interesting and i may enter another time but all my recent attempts at writing have ended in frustration and a shredder.

lol, my attempts ended in just plain forgetfulness

Sounds fun...

It'll have to wait for a while though... unfortunately, November's a really bad month for me, what with college and all...

Ah, of course... finals and such. A pity. I was really hoping you would join. Perhaps in the future, eh?

Only 50k words? Damn my first one is 84k and the one I'm working on now will probably be 110k when finished.

lol, you can have MORE than 50k words

50k is just a goal, but more than that would be great.

unfortunately i would need a big flash of inspiration to be able to write 50k in one month, but who knows i have some premises in my head and in a few years after collage and all i might be able, might do it next year actually.

Okay so you submit a novel and if they think it's good it gets published? If that's the case sign me up, I just have to reread my first novel and edit out (It's shocking to me how much better I've gotten at writing in the last two months to the point that my standards are much, much higher and I'm seeing weaknesses where I didn't see them before) the choppy bits and improve the sentence flow etc.
Edit: In theory I can write at an average rate of 2.5k words a day so I could make one in less than a month but I'm going to try with the one I already have.

Hrm...

# Write a 50,000-word (or longer!) novel, between November 1 and November 30.
# Start from scratch. None of your own previously written prose can be included in your NaNoWriMo draft (though outlines, character sketches, and research are all fine, as are citations from other people's works).
# Write a novel. We define a novel as a lengthy work of fiction. If you consider the book you're writing a novel, we consider it a novel too!
# Be the sole author of your novel. Apart from those citations mentioned two bullet-points up.
# Write more than one word repeated 50,000 times.
# Upload your novel for word-count validation to our site between November 25 and November 30

^ I found that on their site :/

Ah nvm then, I'm not going to start from scratch on a new one, not when I've got a big one in the works and a completed one on the line for future publishing. We'll see about next year though.

Ah, a pity...

Started working on something, got 20k words shifted in a week about 6 weeks ago but couldn't be bothered with both work & school bearing down on me. Like everything I start, it's in a folder somewhere, gathering dust, as always.

Might read a few this year though, see how it goes. Busy busy bee I be.

I'm thinking I will try this bitch out. I'll be showing this to my Writer's Workshop class and maybe get some brownie points from my teacher.

Ah, I see.


lol, nice. I might do the same, even. Though, it might be pointless for my class directly. I truly do hate my English class '

I've said I'm going to do it every year so far and never have. This year I seriously doubt I'll have enough time, but I guess I'll still try.

You know what?

I might do this.

I've had an idea for a little while, and I've written a few little excerpts (none of which will be included, so much as they're outlines to work with).

We'll see.

Edit: It'll be nice to try and not care for quality, for once, but I'm not sure if I can. =P

Awesome ^^

I can't wait to see what you write, Rayne ^^

Good luck to those going for it. I never have, but I might in the future. I'm kinda stuck on my Alvar concept, which I've definitely done a bit of preliminary stuff for, so I doubt his story will work for the contest. I'll be writing. But I won't likely be participating.

lol, anything's game for this contest, if that helps.

It's a pity you won't participate, but I hope your mind changes (and I hope that anything preventing you to do so would lighten up and let you). ^^

I've already done some writing on him though. So that pretty well eliminates him, doesn't it?

Not really... I would personally just pick an old story that was never truly worked on much and use it. Or just write something new by using the other writings as a reference.

I would join but atm I suck at writing so maybe in a few years XP

The only way to become better at writing is to write so you may as well try it.

>.>' hush you I'll have none of your madness

Shush! His madness is truth.

*brain explodes into candy*

See! Even Ryan's brain became candy! It must be true!

o.o hmm well if Ryan's brain did explode into candy it must be the truth

Signed up, too late to start tonight so I guess I'll be a day behind, poor lil me... Not to worry.

Several ideas floating around my empty head, just trying to pick one, and deciding which way to go. Here's hoping there aren't silly little side rules I haven't read such as "No Gore, No NC-17 level material, No Murder" etc etc... if there is, my god... snoozefest.

Indeed!


lol, well, they're accepting Erotic Fiction, so nope, no restrictions.

Good, good. Several more ideas jotted down and a nice gorey little scene to open with, perhaps.

lol, beautiful.

Well here's what I threw together today & yes, there is a rather large chunk missing (see if you can spot the gap..) I suck at writing stories in order, so hey.. Enjoy?

~~

Dreams, the one creation in which everything is original, individual, every human has their own little world where they may escape to when they enter sleep, the same as a dog, a cat, the owl out in the yard or the mouse out in the farmers field as she darts down into her burrow for the night to escape the wrath of airborne predators.

Sadly my dream was over and I awoke to find myself once more blinking bleary eyed as the sun blazed through the windows; what the hell ever happened to the sun being a dull ball of light? I shielded my eyes and rolled sideways, bad idea; I fell face first onto the floor. Ouch.

“Urgh…� I stood up and my legs were all over the place, heard of ‘jelly legs?’ forget about it, this was worse, Christ, I couldn’t even stand! Yet, by some small miracle I’d stumbled from beside the bed, passed my chest of drawers and landed beside the door, the idle draft cooling my lips and filling my lungs with chilly air as I stared through the gap in the door that led into the corridor beyond.

That’s when my memories started coming back, slowly; oh how I wish… remember all those action films where the hero would ride off of a bursting dam, damsel and motor vehicle in tow? Yeah, imagine that only rather than raging rapids of death, it’s a whirlwind of forgotten pain, freshly squeezed death from the blood of innocents, a world of fire and ash…

Yeah, people like to talk about the future in a positive way, as if everything will go perfectly; no more wars, genocides, economic crashes or depressions and that’s just the lighter side of the future. Not a pretty sight, though when you’ve seen it as often as I have, you get used to the sight of burnt flesh, the stench of death on the air and seeing nothing but wastelands or ruins.

Biting down on my lip and ignoring the wave of pain and blood as my lip split, I forced myself to stand. Filling my lungs and holding that precious oxygen in, I drunkenly staggered across the hall (a grand distance of four feet) and slid across the drenched bathroom floor, arms flailing wildly through the air. Whether it was a miracle or sheer dumb luck, I didn’t care – All I know is that my hands grasped the towel railing and the following fall probably would have earned me £250 if I was being filmed; curse you, You’ve Been Framed…

I hurled myself across the bathroom towards the sink, hands diving for the wash flannel as the flash of pain inside my skull quickly evolved into a booming bass speaker of agony. I crammed the flannel into my mouth as the pain erupted and every fibre of my body set alight, the imaginary dam burst and the memories rushed back to me.

Blood oozed down my cheeks, leaking through my eyes as the pain intensified and I bit down hard on the flannel, nearly tearing through it, ignoring my body’s plea to roar in unbearable pain. It’s always the first thirty seconds that are the worst, always. Once you ride them out you’re fairly safe, well, not in as much pain and able to see through a crimson curtain of agony. I’d never get used to the reflection that greeted me after the first thirty seconds;

Hands gripping the sink, left bloodless from the death grip as I clenched to the porcelain. Hair stuck to my forehead and face by sweat, some of it congealed with blood that sprayed from my eyes, the blood itself having left trails down my cheeks and chin, dripping into the sink below. Yeah, talk about the stuff from nightmares much…

As the final waves of wracking pain stopped, I discarded the wash flannel into the sink and wrenched the toilet seat up and dropping to my knees as my stomach emptied itself for the first of three times in short succession; always three times, always. Someday I hope my mind would finally snap and I’d just collapse dead, but alas… maybe yes… maybe no… fate never played that card.

~~

“Yes sir – How can I help you?� I wanted to snort at how corny we sounded; to laugh, break down into breathless fits of laughter, tears streaming down my cheeks all because of how corny we sounded… but alas, I couldn’t – fucking job.

“A pint of Stella and a Gin and Tonic.� I put on my best fake smile and nodded.

“Certainly sir, coming right up.� The bozo looked like one more pint might just finish him off, but who was I care to care?

Ignoring the stench of alcohol and nicotine on the mans breath, I pulled two glasses out from under the bar. One was your standard run of the mill pint glass, the other a tall thin cylinder similar to what we served Long Island Ice teas in. I placed the pint glass under the Stella tap and pulled the lever back; as the glass filled up, I quickly mixed up a Gin and Tonic with Ice, hell, I even threw an orange slice in for originality. Sometimes I had some really weird Ideas…

“That’ll be seven eighty-five please� Mentally I rolled my eyes and cursed the fat blathered idiot as he reached into his trousers and slammed a chubby fist-full of pocket change down onto the bar.

Several pound coins and a lucky scrunched up twenty-pound note tip alongside some pocket change and tubby walked off with his drinks, change forgotten.

I really did want to laugh, to slap my fellow barmaid Jill on the back and cause an uproar, but I couldn’t! Damn it all to hell…

Still, I’d made an easy “21.57 – what the drunken blowhard didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt him – right? Heh, wrong, oh so very wrong… oh well! Fifteen hours crossed my mind before it began to idly wander. Oh look, busty blonde in a tight cocktail at two o’clock heading my way… smile on, charm set and head up, here we go…

.,~@*@~,.

‘And he's making you scream with his hands on your hips, I hope he's leaving you empty baby this is just a fix For such a simple little whore…’

It’s funny really – all the chances you have in life to go back in time and undo mistakes that you’ve made. Sarcasm never really was my strong point was it? Still, the blonde hair splayed out across the pillow next to me certainly wasn’t a mistake and neither was the body that went with it really. Just another one of those bonuses that comes with the job. Again I force myself not to laugh; fist lodged in my mouth, tears falling down my cheeks as I fidget restlessly, inside I’m cackling like a madman…

Enough was enough, really it was! I climbed out of bed and headed to the bathroom, the sun illuminating the room. The clock in the bathroom read 06:41 as I walked under the jets of hot water.

I really did need this shower… or at least that’s what I kept telling myself as the last of the lather slid down the drain and I turned the shower off.

A quick rubbing down and I was in the bedroom with sleeping beauty, searching for my clothes, frantically trying to avoid two glorious mounds of flesh that the quilt had just revealed.

Boxers? Found on the lampshade. Trousers? A crumpled heap by the bed. Shirt? On top of the desk by the door along socks. I really didn’t remember losing my socks… Ah well! Oh wait! Tie! I looked under the table, up at the ceiling light, in the bathroom before I spotted it. Goldilocks’ wrists were still bound to the bed with it. Who knew she was a kinky little minx? Oh the memories…

Even I couldn’t avoid staring at her chest as I struggled to undo the knot. What a rack… mentally I slapped myself. Hair colour never mattered, hell, nothing did – sex was sex and that was that. After finding my shoes I left the room, softly closing the door behind me.

I had to do a double take – the number on the door; fate, or was it time? Either way, what a funny (but cruel) temptress she was. Shaking my head with a perverted little smirk, I took a left and walked down the corridor.

Another left, a set of double doors and three staircases later and I found myself strolling past reception and into the bar; the restaurant just opposite already held a few early risers – no surprises there really.

I checked my watch (how did that stay on last night?) 7:02.

Waving at one of the waitresses (Tina) I opened up the bar, keys safely back in my pocket afterwards. Amazing what you miss when you’re thinking about breasts, isn’t it?

Not a bad little party last night, with just over three grand in the till – but with several hundred guests held as a captive audience what else did you expect?

Hang on, who was on cash collection last night? I checked the list under the bar… Friday… me? Oops… I grabbed the small haversack and quickly moved just over £2700 in assorted coins and notes into it. I’d never have guessed we were legally allowed to collect that much in one sitting without removing some of it sooner, but hey, here’s the evidence in this bag…

A short walk to reception and I was back behind the bar idly watching the flat screen on the opposite wall. Slowly the morning drifted by and gradually more people began to appear and head into the restaurant. Regular business figures to wedding guests, so many bodies, women and the like. I felt the urge to laugh, but felt that feeling die as the spectacled brunette in a tight fitting business suit slipped a number into my hand, winked and mouth ‘call me.’

As she walked off, I glanced down at the number before my eyes and found her ass, hips swaying more than they should have been; each cheek on that perfect looking butt hugged by those trousers… Oh yeah, I loved this job, even if I did hate it.

7:57. Time, never enough of it yet still people wanted more or wished it would pass quickly. This time I did laugh, albeit gently and quietly so only the nearest patron could hear me.

Time never was a problem, never is; never will be. Don’t listen to fools who talk and think like that. Time will forever be an issue! Probably the reason why it sucks.

Customer! Smile in place (wow, it almost feels real this time! Maybe it is…? Heh) and chin up. “Good morning sir, did you have a good night?�

“Yes, thank you and good morning – Could I have a J20 please? Any flavour, I’m not fussy.�

“Bottle or glass?�

“Bottle please.� One short fridge trip later and the hotel’s £4 richer. Well, more like £2.40 because of the purchasing cost but still money is money… right? Eh, it didn’t matter. It wouldn’t be long before money was of no use to anyone, but they didn’t know that… Fuck, did I just think that? Stupid fool… I really do need to move to a more active part of the hotel in the mornings, then these thoughts wouldn’t just randomly sail through my head and distract my train of thought; or lack thereof.

8.31, still so long to go… at least things would pick up at 10 when alcohol went back on sale. Well, so I hoped anyway…

~~

“I now pronounce you man and wife – you may kiss the bride.� I applauded politely as the new Mr. and Mrs. Richards’ kissed, a little less enthusiastically than most in the room I admit but hey… I didn’t know the couple personally! They should consider themselves lucky that I’m even applauding at all. Not that they would care anyway…

As the bridal party and wedding guests made their own way outside, me and four others began to transform the room into something a little more suitable – we only had an hour until lunch was served, never enough time – I did tell you that there was never enough time; did I not? I can assure you that I did, oh yes…

Twenty minutes later and we had the tables out, set and ready. The chairs were out; cutlery polished and lay out precisely. The measurements were a bitch to get right – fucking miniature rulers and everything! I swore that if I ever get a hold of Christian I’d murder the little prick.

The guests wouldn’t give a shit about how far their knife was from their plate or their champagne glass from their wine glass!

Exactly thirty-one minutes until we let the animals, sorry… guests in… yippee.

You’ll find as time goes on in this story (I know I’m narrating – sharing this with you, ha!) you’ll work out that I’m a real stickler for time. Not that I’d be far off anyway. As long as I had access to a watch or a clock I’d be fine…

Besides, December 25th – sound familiar? Christmas, yes… December 25th 3771 to be exact. The day that everything would really begin to kick off – i.e.; the world turns into a massive floating chunk of solidified magma.

Another short step forward – room set guests in and we’re midway through the speeches – always the best part of any wedding you can work at by far.

The groom had gone, the best man had gone and now a man whom I didn’t know was just rounding off his speech. Either way, the majority of the wedding populace seemed to know him so I guess it didn’t matter.

“Seventeen years that I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world.� More scattered applause. “Though because of this, it is with great regret that I must finish everything here.� Looks of confusion and silence turned into looks of horror and screams echoed throughout the room. Chaos erupted as the stranger pulled a gun from within his jacket, aimed and fired. Time seemed to stop; literally… oh how I wish it did…

~~

“No!� I felt a cold tingling sensation swoop down my arm as several others cried the exact same thing. My arm felt like I’d just dipped it into a bucket of iced water, oh the wonderful sensations… I flicked my wrist at the same time as the bullets left the gun. Unfortunately, this led to one hell of a chain reaction.

The armed stranger fired at both bride and groom; the best man suddenly had a gun in his own hand, diving in front of the shocked groom, taking the bullet and pulling the groom down with him.

The bride went down in a cloud of blood as the nearest table to theirs was kicked over, two more armed guests taking cover behind it as the stranger changed his target and sprayed their cover with bullets.

The gunman went down in a shower of red sparks as the icicle from my wrist impaled his left hand; the gun flew through the air and landed in a jug of iced water. I have some explaining to do, Don’t I? Oh yes…

Turning, I barely managed to get out of the way; a purple bolt soared passed and hit the piano which promptly burst into flames.

Poking my head out, my jaw dropped – my buxom blonde bed-friend from the night before was taking cover behind a door, a thin stick in her hand; coloured light erupting from it towards the other up-turned table.

My my, things just got really interesting… I ducked back behind the table as a vase flew passed and smashed into the wall; contents scattering to the four winds.

Did I say that my life was boring earlier on? I really can’t remember… Urgh! It wasn’t helped by the fact that I had one hell of a migraine coming on too… oh boy… fuck!

Another stray ball of colour flew past, taking one of the table legs with it while two bullet holes appeared to my left. Lucky I’d hidden when I did or my brain matter would be decorating the wall.

Another cold tingle and I launched a ball of frost at the armed guests table freezing two of the legs.

Ignoring the remnants of my conscience, I pulled a Zippo lighter from my trouser pocket, flicked it open and ignited it.

That precious second was all I needed as the light fluid fuelled flame fled the lighter and settle in the palm of my right hand; the lighter lay forgotten on the floor, lid closed.

I caressed the fire within my hand, watching in wonder as it intricately, but beautifully weaved its way in-between my fingers, almost snake-like.

With a sinister sneer on my face (descriptive bastard that I am) I stood up, fire in one hand and ice in the other. Fire went right, Ice to the left and then they switched – may as well give them both something to worry about.

The gunmen took cover as half their table erupted into flames, the ice soaring out the window, taking most of the glass with it and freezing the grass. They ran for cover as the fire headed towards the others, catching the curtains – instantly they were alight, along with the roof, the chandelier, the door… the ice caught my ‘companion’ on her arm, freezing at the elbow.

With a wave of her stick, it vanished. My shock turned into a cheeky wave and a wink as she glared daggers at me. I rolled back behind the table as she sent a pink flash at me; the small flower-display it hit disintegrated; only ash remained. I physically flinched and gulped as another one soared into the bar, taking the drink cabinet with it.

A surge of heat and the cracking moans of timber made me remember the roof. Somehow I missed the sprinklers drenching us all as well as the bells ringing throughout the building.

Bullets, painful lights or the shattered window… cursing myself, I closed my eyes, muttered a half-arsed attempt at a prayer and took a running leap.

I was through, freedom! Freedom, awkward landing, painful landing, shoulder clicking, more pain, ankle hurting? Blood? Huh? Bullet through my ankle, dislocated wrist, glass in my trousers and fucking dust and grass stains all over my shirt… just lovely, clearly my level of luck was rising.

I stood, ok, I staggered, trying to stand up and I finally managed it on my fourth attempt. By the time I was standing though, the party had moved outside and now everyone seemed to be at a Mexican standoff, the only difference being; they were all looking at me, even if their guns and sticks were aimed at each other.

“Erm… Is there something on me? Aww man, I didn’t spill wine down my work shirt again did I?� I feigned the cheery voice and glanced down at my shirt in a mocking way, arms wide. I looked back up to see the Groom and his best man step out through the broken window, pistols aimed at two of the stick-wielders craniums. It was the last thing I saw before something both heavy and blunt connected with the back of my skull and sent me careening into darkness as I dropped to the floor once more.

Well I feel very behind now. Veni gets me on sheer length. F*ck.

They're accepting NC17? Really?

Fufufufufuuuu...

I decided to change my original plan and go with an idea my Writer's Workshop teacher suggested, yourself in ten years. Here is what I have for chapter one, I need to fix some things though, expect an edit soon.

Ryan sits at his desk, a line of pills before him: White, red, red-blue, and yellow. A vitamin, Tylenol, Omega-3, and the usual anti-depressant mark the start another day in the life of an author. With a sigh he downs all four dry and takes a sip from the glass of cranberry juice to his right. Absent-mindedly he runs a finger down the scar running from elbow to wrist, the last gift from his brother before he was finally institutionalized. Sighing again, Ryan begins typing out an introduction to his latest story. The glass of cranberry juice takes his full focus as his fingers fly across the keyboard of their own accord. Light filters in first between the dark clouds threatening to overwhelm the sky then through a window that should have been cleaned a few days ago, finally shimmering into the sleek glass holding the crimson liquid.

An idea grows, one paragraph multiplying into first two, then four, then many more. Time flies by unnoticed, the only sound being the soft clicking from the keyboard. His growling stomach finally forces Ryan to take a break from typing and stalk into the kitchen for some type of sustenance. A quick bout of foraging through the fridge and cabinets yields some cans of tuna, a sleeve of crackers, and a half-empty jar of mayonnaise. Beggars can't be choosers, they say. Bits of crumb and fish stick to the scruffy beard that just started coming in a few years before. The bell rings at the apartment door. Before Ryan finishes brushing out the crumbs from his beard the lock clicks and the door swings open to reveal his sister holding a small bag at her side. Ryan frowns, more out of annoyance than real anger.

"You could at least pretend to respect my privacy."
"Why? Not like I'm going to walk in on anything worth seeing if you leave the top lock open."
"Bitch."
"Yep. So how are things going?"�
The two talk for a bit, mostly on everyday things they usually went on about. Rachel and her husband were considering kids, Ryan feared for their safety, Ryan was hit upside the head. Ryan whined about the neighbors making noise at all hours of the night, Rachel expressed her oh so deep condolences. The topic turned serious for a bit, moving on to their younger brother and how he was holding up.
"So... Brendan,"� Rachel ventures cautiously.
"Last I remember he was feeling distinctly stabby."�
Rachel winces and looks for a way to change the topic.
"Oh yeah, I got you something, hold on.â"
Rachel retreats from the kitchen to fetch the small bag she was holding when she first entered the apartment. When Rachel returns she sees Ryan setting a kettle on the stove.
"Tea good with you?"
"Sure, but here. You still like to draw, right?"
From the bag comes an extensive set of charcoals in different sizes and colors. Ryan accepts the small gift with thanks, asking the occasion. Rachel makes some off hand comment about it being an impulse buy. They both understand the sentiment. The kettle whistles, breaking the silence that begins to grow uncomfortable. Ryan moves from the table to pour the hot water into cups. He distractedly forgets the tea bags, remembering only when Rachel gives a polite cough and glances into the cup. They both ignore the gaffe. Ryan rummages through his fridge again, digging out a half eaten chocolate cake from a week or so before.
"Chocolate good with you? Of course it is."
Rachel smirks wryly and accepts the slice on a limp paper plate, jabbing at it with a plastic fork.
"So how are things between you and-"
"Fine,"� Ryan cuts her off curtly, signifying the end of that line of conversation. "You and Lerone still functioning?"�
"Well enough, we both have steady jobs and a nice place. We were thinking of buying a house once we pool enough money and find a good neighborhood. We want our kids to have a real house to grow up in."
"Wait, seriously? You finally planning on having kids?"
"Maybe not for another few years, but yeah. A boy and a girl. Our biracial, caramel children will be beautiful markers of our marriage."
Ryan laughs at his sister for a few moments, almost choking on the bit of almost stale cake in his mouth. "I wish you the best,"� he manages after a few seconds, swallowing hard.
"Thanks. We wanted to ask, would you like to be the god-father?"
"I'd already be the uncle, you sure you don't want to grant someone else that honor?"
"Maybe. Just putting the option out there for you."
"Thanks anyway, but it's enough to be uncle."
Awkward sibling tension averted, the two go on discussing their short term plans. Ryan tells his sister how his book of short stories is coming out next November in hardcover and expresses his hopes that it may be the thing that gets him noticed. Rachel congratulates Ryan and tells him she will be the first to purchase it. An hour drags on, casual banter making it seem like but a few minutes. Rachel excuses herself to use the bathroom; Ryan points her in the right direction despite her having visited several times before.
Too late he remembers that he forgot to put the anti-depressants back into the locked medicine cabinet. The hope that Rachel would simply overlook the translucent orange container on the marble sink proves fruitless when Rachel marches back into the kitchen and places said bottle on the kitchen table.
"What are these?"
"Did you not read the label?"� Ryan asks snidely.
"Don't be an ass, why are you taking them? I want straight answers, no BS."
"Brendan stabbed me! Why the hell do you think I'm taking them?"
Rachel reaches for Ryan's hand only to have it snatched away. "We thought you were okay, you never said anything about it."
"Maybe that should have clued you in."�
Rachel opens her mouth to say something: an apology, an explanation, maybe just an acknowledgement. What ever the case, Ryan does not want to hear it.
"It was nice of you to drop by, Sis. Next time give me a call so I can be better prepared, maybe make some cookies."
Rachel shuts her mouth, lips tightening for a moment. Finally she speaks. "It was nice to see you, too; you know where I am if you need me, got my cell if you want to talk. Have you told-?"
"Bye Rachel."

Humm. Interesting style, nice interaction, vague but not too confusing... pretty good overall. :3

Yay! One thing that I was wondering though, should I describe the two characters(myself and my sister) more in detail, or leave it that vague?

Well it depends. Describing them saves you the annoyance of doing it later without making it too much of an info dump, but on the other hand you can continue to leave them, uh, not described. Heh.

Then, on the OTHER other hand, it ups your word count...

If this is to be the first scene, though, I'd recommend throwing in a few offhanded comments about it.

I wish I had time. Each year I log in, but never get anything posted

Aww... poor Kay

News from le'Rayne! I am 1/5 of the way through! :'D

If I can get 10k words in under a week, by gods but can anybody else do it, too. I'm absolutely horrible at writing more than 1-2k words at a time, let alone doing it every night.

KEEP ZE SPIRITS HIGH! JOO CAN DO EET!

(And so can I! Hoorah.)

Thanks to work I've had no time to write, not to mention school too.

Hammered out 12k words today, still reading through it for plot holes, spelling errors, grammatical mistakes, my usual stupid word switches amongst other things.

Got the basic 'plot' outline for another 5 - 10k tomorrow, though knowing me & my lack of description teamed with my ability to make a scene last rougly 1k words when 3 - 5k would be better... it'll probably be 3k tops.

You know the point is to NOT look after it for editing, right Veni?

(Don't worry though, I still can't help myself sometimes. I deliberately haven't gone over anything to tweak it yet, though I will if I need to up my word count.)

I'm afraid if you're anything like me you guys are going to read over your work and go into editor mode. You'd be surprised how many mistakes you can find when you read the entire work through like a picky fan.

No, actually, I wouldn't be surprised. I do it all the time. =P

Indeed I do. Sadly, with this idea actually turning out pretty nicely on paper, and as far as I'm aware, there not being anything else like this on the market currently (that I know of) I'm gonna try & get it done, around 50 - 80k words, and hopefully published.

This of course means lots of letters & copies sent to different editors & tiny publishers to try & get it printed. If all else fails, I'll just sell it at school or something like £3 or whatever.

I daresay there are other novels out there with the same idea as mine, but meh.

And what Jon said. I read my own stuff through too much, sadly I miss most of the errors because I just generally fail.

If you finish in time you get a code valid for 6 months for an actual copy of your book. Like fully bound and stuff and from tehre you can choose to put it on amazon etc. Self publishing ftw.

I too am doing nano. I got to 22k the first week and have been dealing with hell after that. I should write tomorrow.

Right now I'm just flailing about like a maniac. I think my "Week Two is HELL" came three to four days early.

But, that said, I am moving at a steady pace, even if it is kinda slow...

That does sound awesome though. Self publishing FTW indeed!

I'm getting like 1k every three days and it is killing me, but I have a feeling that over this weekend I am going to just beast out a good 20-30k words in no time.