Count with both hands

I'm adding this to my sidebar, so all of you out there can watch my progress for nannowrimo. I'll see you at the end.

I guess it's like a contest

I'm officially signed up again this year for the National Novel Writing Month. You can keep track of me on the NaNoWriMo website, my profile is moxie.girl. You can only view my profile if you sign up to participate, so why not? Go ahead. Write for a month and see what happens.

This year I'm taking an approach to writing for the NaNoWriMo a bit differently. This year I am working on a collection of short stories. Stories that I'll sit down and write, not a novel by novel standards, but then again, for me this is a practice in writing discipline, not to produce a work that I'm utterly in love with and that fulfills all of my dreams of the work I'd want published.

Comment if you're doing NaNoWriMo this year too and tell me your profile name so we can encourage each other throughout the month. If you're not participating in the writing, check back here for updates on my progress and unedited excerpts of my stories.

OH. One more thing. Happy Fall, this is the best time of year, enjoy being outdoors while you still can.

an excerpt, you are not allowed to laugh....

unless it's the good kind of laughing. Like the kind that the author intends for you to experience. But if it isn't that kind, than oh man! you better keep it to yourself!

So it's week one of the challenge and I'm a bit behind. Behind in the sense that I haven't written 1650 words everyday. But, I'm not discouraged. Not in the least. In fact, it's a bit like running. It's similar in that I find I have a love/hate relationship with both. I love writing and exploring the worlds of new characters...but...well, it's tough that I can't go back and re-read and tweak what I've written. This people, has proven to be very difficult. I don't like it one bit. But, I have decided that because I love to write and this is an exercise in that (see again how it's similar to running?) I am going to push forward, toss discouragement aside and forge ahead.

I wanted to say a special thanks to my man for the thoughtful encouragement you're giving me. And also a shout out to my runpal and the guy to the right. They have both also joined the challenge and I am finding it a good motivation to write, my (friendly) competitive nature is keeping me writing to try to stay ahead of them in the growing word count.

so...don't laugh and god, please don't comment about all the terrible mistakes and inconsistencies you find, I know I need to edit...in fact I can't wait to go back and edit. But following is the first few paragraphs of my "november novel", and I think that I promise to keep posting excerpts...alright I will, that'll keep me challenged and motivated too.

Meet my first character:

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November 1st, 2007 - Ingrid

I like people. Generally, I mean, I like young people a little less than I like most other people. But, just to keep it simple. I, generally, like people. Except for the nurse that wakes me up every morning. And I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “well you probably don’t like her because she wakes you up every morning.” Well, you’d be wrong. I’m a morning person, I love waking up, so you see, it’s not the concept of waking up; it’s the way she goes about it. Oh and one other thing, she never technically wakes me up. I’m usually already awake, I just don’t have the lights on, and I’m not gabbing at anyone, and I’m not engrossed in some early morning talk show. So, to her, I’m not “awake.”

“Good morning Mrs. Stanley. How are we today?”
“I’m awake.”
“Oh no you’re not. The curtains are drawn and we certainly can’t hear the birds singing, not with the windows shut. Don’t you worry yourself about gettin’ up. You let Marcy take care of everythin’.”

So you see, not only do I have to allow her to open the curtains and the window, I have to endure her referring to me as the collective “we” and to herself as “Marcy”.
The “we” wouldn’t be so bad if she’d keep the damn window shut. I mean, I can’t be expected to physically get myself out of the bed, walk to the window, and then heave it shut on my own. I’m eighty-seven years old for god’s sake.


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