Word

Okay, so I have obviously epically, utterly, and abysmally FAILED at Novel November. My excuse, pathetic yes, I admit, is wrestling with the common app and doing my actual work. I am ashamed as an aspiring writer. 

BUT,

never fear! For although I have neglected him ruthlessly, at times to the brink of death, my main character Thomas has indeed survived this unproductive month. He deserves a better creator, but I will have to do. Hope to post soon!

I am an utter failure. 

So that’s day one! Emma definitely out-wrote me today though! Might as well get used to it :) The Fairy Tale Machine is booking it! Haha! Pun…booking it…ahem. Check hers out!

http://thewaywardquill.tumblr.com/post/12211474155/nanowrimo-day-1-success

It was dark.

But not completely.

NO.

The word was awesome in his ears, the Old Testament kind of awesome that made Thomas feel as though he had sunk into the earth with the heaviness of the sound. It felt like volcanic rock grating slowly, guttural scraping bellows. And all at once life was more physically solid and terrifyingly ambiguous than ever before. It was not that he had never felt so alive, it was that he felt altogether pressed between the two: life and death on either side like boulders, and he squashed so heavily in between, beyond squirming, merely wedged in the middle of earths.

It was dark, but -

an ethereal, celestial something slipped between the cracks, slipped between Thomas caught between the boulders as easily as milk pouring from a glass.

And it was milky, a translucent almost-light, like the second before waking, when your consciousness stirs itself out of a dream.

Like breaking the surface of water when your lungs were about to explode.

Except -

except Thomas didn’t break the surface, his lungs were screaming, they were clogged with dirt, drowning between boulders in the center of the world. And an animal, skittish anxiety lurched violently within him.

What is happening?

And then it ended.

He toppled to the floor of Chemistry 101.

- - -

There was a very bright, very real fluorescent light.

Thomas was on the ground.

He was not the only one there. Other bodies were stirring limply all around him, legs poking into view from behind the skyscraper counters. A few shadowy, wobbling silhouettes stood above them all. Lin throbbed over Thomas. She met his bleary gaze with wrinkled eyebrows, not really looking at him at all. Her face was confused.

His head felt exceptionally round and heavy, like a bowling ball. He rolled it to the left and somehow rolled the Earth instead.

Nausea.

Thomas started to feel his body again slowly, the fabric of his lab coat pooling around him, flesh on cotton on linoleum. It was strange how the layers of clothes returned to his senses. He was acutely aware of his socks bunching in his shoes.

Okay. Scratch that. Here goes:

So today is November 1st. And November is National Novel Writing Month. Therefore to participate I should probably be writing novel. 

BUT,

I have a shorter story on my mind. It’s name is “Word.” And if I don’t get it out now, I never will. 

SO,

I am NOT promising 50,000 words. I am NOT promising 1,667 words a day. But I WILL write every day. And by Nov 30, I will have SOMETHING completed.

Like my dear friend thewaywardquill, I will start off with an outline of what I intend to do for my short story/novelette/novella THING. 

From there on out - no promises except an end result (and what a surprise that shall be.)

Follow if you care to join me in winging this. :)

BY THE WAY,

My dear friend can be found at www.thewaywardquill.tumblr.com. Follow her, she’s brilliant and has WAY more of an idea as to what she’s doing.