NaNoWriMo, Writing

NaNoWriMo: Week 1

Week One of NaNoWriMo has come to an end. How did you do? I’m actually pretty pleased with what I accomplished. I wasn’t able to get to any writing during the week last week so I had to make up six days of word count this past weekend. Which, actually worked better for me. I find writing so much more enjoyable when I’m able to sit down and type away for hours at end, rather than piece out twenty to thirty minutes at random.

So I’ve made up the following schedule:

Week 1: Nov 1 – Nov 7 (writing on Nov 6-7) = 11,669
Week 2: Nov 8 – Nov 13 (writing on Nov 11-13) = 10,002
Week 3: Nov 14 – Nov 20 (writing on Nov 19-20) = 11.669
Week 4: Nov 21 – Nov 30 (writing on Nov 24-27) = 16,670

Total: 50,010

It’s my goal to wrap up NaNoWriMo early, spending the majority of my Thanksgiving holiday writing, eating, and napping. Totally doable right? This weekend was a complete breeze. I read through the pages I had for my WIP the week before I began so I had a feel for the characters, the storylines, plot twists and what have you, and so I knew where to pick up where I had left off. I began with Belle’s story. Simply because she’s the character that I find the most difficult to write about. But her story flowed from my fingertips. Here’s a little bit of what I wrote.

***

It began after Mother died. Do you remember, Willie? How sick I became? I went to Dr. Lacey Bobo for treatment, measles, he diagnosed. Passed, no doubt, to me by one of the children at school. And oh, that rash! How itchy it was! As if I was plagued by the pox of our childhood once again. But there you have it, Willie. That was our beginning.

Lacey – Dr. Bobo – stopped by my home every few days that week to check that I was healing. I liked to watch as he rustled around in his medical bag, searching for one tool or another. He was like no one I had met before. Stylish, certainly, with his neatly trimmed and waxed mustache. His hair parted just off-center, shorn short on the sides and curled and slicked  away from his broad forehead. Even his clothes looked elegant, so unlike the men of Oxford Mills. His freshly pressed suit coat, his crisp white collar, the tidy knot of a scarf resting against his throat. He caught me staring on his first visit and I believed that I had quite unnerved him. The rest of his time was spent stuttering and repeating words before he finally reached for his bag, nearly upending it of its contents and fled from my home.

On his third visit, as he pressed his fingers beneath my jaw to test my pulse, his eyes lifted to mine and held my gaze. Time ceased. The birds outside the window quieted their singing. The soft hiss of steam from the baking bread died. All that mattered was that he was there before me, looking at me, seeing me.

All too quickly it ended. He removed his fingers from my racing pulse and the spell was broken. I lowered my eyes so that he couldn’t see the pain visible in my eyes. I could hear him rustling in his bag, heard him stand and straighten his jacket.

“Have you a beau, Miss Belle?”

I turned my head to look at him. Why ever would he ask me that? “No? No, I have no current prospects.”

He nodded, curtly. His hat lay on the settee and he bent at the hip to retrieve it. Perched once more upon his head, he nodded again toward me. “Well,” he said, “well, perhaps once you’re feeling more yourself that will change.” He said nothing more but turned, opened the door, and disappeared.

Once he was gone, time returned, tenfold. The birds sang faster. The bread hissed louder. And I felt that time would never again return to normal. In my heart, I knew the choices I would make were wrong, but there was nothing I could do, or would do to change. I had brushed the flame, felt it’s warmth upon my cold, cold skin and I desired to be burned. I have often wondered as I wandered this place: if I had known then that I would float away like the blazing ashes, caught on a current and dragged adrift only to have my ember smothered by the breeze, would I have still reached for the inferno? Each time the answer escapes from my lips. Yes.

***

WIP word count (not included in NaNoWriMo): 7,590
Word Count for the end of Week One: 10,155

TOTAL: 17,745

I’m around 1500 away from my goal for the week so I’m planning on doing some work on adding numbers this week. Best of luck to all of you competing!

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