We're Back!

Hello everyone!  I know I dropped off rather suddenly mid-NaNoWriMo last year.  Unfortunately, since I started this blog, my family has gotten smaller.  As one may expect, this disrupted my life rather dramatically.

I have started getting the itch again.  Most anyone who writes knows the itch I'm talking about.  It's the compulsion to write.  The need to put pen to paper or fingers to a keyboard.  For me, the itch takes the form of a story or character that keeps running around and around in my mind.  I realized that NaNoWriMo is not the only writing race in town.  Or rather, November is not the only month they put on a race.  Apparently, they also organize summer camps and call them Camp NaNoWriMo.  Twice over the summer, once in June and once in August, they set up similar challenges.  You use your same log in for camp as you used in November.  There are a few differences.  You have the option of joining a virtual cabin, people who are also participating in the challenge who can help encourage you.  There is still a tracker of how many words you write a day.  It is an interesting little project.

I decided to join the June camp a little over a week into it.  I don't really have a story line, I just have a need to get something out.  I'm reasonably sure I'm so far behind that I'll never meet the deadline, but it will be interesting to participate anyway.  I'll keep posting here about my adventures in writing.  Stay tuned!

NaNoWriMo, Day 1

YAY, I REACHED MY FIRST WORD COUNT GOAL!  Okay, now that I've gotten that out of my system, I want to tell you about what I'm learning so far.

I'm afraid I started the day a bit out of it.  I figured that I had time to read a few books before November, and I did.  I read 3 books in 2 days.  It was an excellent series.  Unfortunately, I wasn't counting on the literary hangover after my reading binge.  My day started with my head full of someone else's characters and motivations in my head.  Not good.  Eventually, I cleared my head enough to find my characters.  I read some of the pep talk posts and some technique posts from authors I admire.  Then, I read through my own notes.  I was able to see them again.  Finally, I was able to start writing.

My story did not start where I thought it would.  When I first conceived this story, it started in a bar.  Turns out, when I put my fingers to the keyboard, my story started before that.  Also, my cast was apparently incomplete.  I thought I had accounted for ask the major players.  Turns out, I was wrong.  I'm not sure who I just made in the last few sentences of today's work, but I cannot wait to meet them tomorrow.  Until next time!

Characters

As November approaches, NaNoWriMo occupies more and more of my thoughts.  I keep reading advice about how I ought to write something I would want to read.  I think about the stories I enjoy.  What makes me come back to a story, time after time?  What is special about the book I stay up late reading because I just can't put them down?

My favorite tales span a wide variety of genres, though usually in the lighter range of any given genre.  They frequently have a fast paced plot, but not always.  The main thing that moves a book from my library list to my shelf seems to be the characters.  I read and reread books who get me invested in the characters.  These are the books my family gives me looks when I read them the first time because I gasp and giggle at what seems to outside observers to be a random time.  But there is nothing random about it.  The author purposely included bits to help you connect with the characters.  What makes them laugh?  What makes them cry?  Why do they decide to do what they do?

I've worked out some of this for the main characters in the yarn I hope to spin through November, at least the motivation part.  It still needs to be fleshed out a bit, maybe more than just a bit.  I'll work on it this weekend.  I hope I will have defined my characters enough by the time November gets here that the little nuggets of personality and purpose will just flow through the story.

Who are your favorite characters?

Nightmare Fuel, Day 28

Hull Old Town Creepy Alley 1 by Two Boxes

She hides in the shadows, waiting.  Occasionally, people pass her hiding place.  Still she waits.  Then she hears it, the perfect step.  A man’s tread approaching the alley in the slow heavy foot fall of a man who is confidant in his security, even on a deserted street not long after the bells have rung the midnight hour.  She lets a moan escape her lips.  He must have caught the slight sound because he pauses.  A whimper, quieter now that she knows she has his attention.

He takes the last few steps into the mouth of the alley, calling as his eyes sweep inside, “Anyone there?  Are you okay?”

She smiles; he is caught.  In a pitifully weak voice, she lures him, “Please, help me.”  He steps into the alley, not far enough, not yet.

“Where are you?”

“Please,” she hates women who sound so pitiful, and the men who encourage them, “please, I’m back here.”  A few more steps as he continues to search for her.  She won’t make him wait much longer, one…more…step…  She sidles out of her corner.  Always courteous, she says “Thank you.”  He manages to register her gorgeous figure, pale complexion, and pitiless eyes before she sinks elongated fangs into his exposed neck.

Prompt here.

Nightmare Fuel, Day 24

Photo prompt courtesy of Tommy-Ironic

The first time she saw them, she thought they were ghosts.  A second glance showed them to be statues.  The white sandstone made the carved robes look like they flowed in the wind.  The noticeable vacancy underneath the sheets where people ought to have been was slightly disturbing.  How odd, to have statues out here in the middle of no where.  The nearest gas station was back at the interstate turn off.  The only thing out this road was her widowed aunt’s old ranch house.  She would have to ask her aunt about it.

Sitting in the kitchen with a pitcher of sweet tea, Jemma decided to broach the subject with her aunt.  “Aunt May, when did those statues go up?”

“What statues dear?” asked Aunt May, checking the cookies in the oven.

“The set of statues about a half mile off your property on the way from town.  The creepy, no-one-under-the-sheet ghost statues.” 

Aunt May froze at the description.  Straining for a natural voice, she responded, “How many statues were there?”  Managing to remove the cookie tray from the oven without burning herself, she thought furiously.  She didn’t think they would be able to find her here.  She thought she had lost them when she married and changed her name.  Also living in the back end of no where with the cows the only ones who got a good look at her on a regular basis should have helped.

Jemma thought this was a strange question.  “I don’t know, around eight I think.  Haven’t you seen them on your way into town?  Are they new?”

“They are new and you know I don’t go in unless I absolutely have to.  Most of what I need I can grow out here, even without your uncle, may he find peace.”  Aunt May never referenced God, even in wishing her husband’s soul well.  Jemma wondered why that was, but today had enough mysteries, that one would have to wait.  Right now, Jemma wanted to know how statues had upset her aunt so badly her normally peaches and cream coloring had faded to a pale grey.

Aunt May could not for the life of her figure out how to get out of this.  If they found her here, they would be able to find her anywhere she might run.  Looking at Jemma, she decided she would not bring them down on her family.  The only way to stop them was to let them find what they were looking for.  With one more trick up her sleeve, she may be able to stop them permanently.

“Jemma, be a dear and fetch my big book from the living room, would you?”  Now Jemma was really worried.  She remembered that book, a leather-bound monstrosity that she could barely lift when she spent the summer with her aunt and uncle at 8 years old.  That summer made her think her family wasn’t as typical as she had thought.  No one else’s aunt drew shapes on the counter in salt or burned perfectly good herbs.  No one else’s uncle saved blood when they slaughtered animals on the farm.  Never had she seen anyone use such an old, thick, leather-bound book on a regular basis.  Her aunt hadn’t used the book in front of Jemma since she had shouted that she didn’t want to be part of a witch’s family in a fit of teen rage.  Jemma thought Aunt May had given it up for good after her husband died.

Jemma set the book on the counter next to ingredients her aunt had been pulling from the cabinets in her absence.

“Jemma, I need you to do one last favor for me.”  The sadness in Aunt May’s voice implied it would be the last favor Jemma ever did for her aunt.  “After I copy the page I need, I want you to take the book to the diner in town.  I’m going to call a friend and have them pick the book up from you.  Will you do that for me?”

Jemma didn’t want to leave her aunt alone in this condition, but just as clearly she wanted space for whatever she was going to do.  She agreed.  Aunt May handed her the book and added an envelope she said held money for supper.  When Jemma protested, Aunt May simply said, “You are running into town as a favor to me, the least I can do is pay for food.”

Jemma turned her car around and headed back the way she came, passing the statues that seemed creepier now.  Their shadows elongated as the sun started its decent to the west.  The jacket her aunt had pressed on her as she was leaving lay on top of the book in the passenger seat.  Jemma didn’t think it would get cool enough to worry about a jacket tonight, even if she stayed out late, but as with many other things, it was just easier to agree than to argue such a small point.

Upon reaching the diner, Jemma decided the book would be safe in the car as long as she locked it.  Grabbing the jacket, just in case, she headed into the diner.

***

May only had one chance.  They wouldn’t suspect they had been seen, after all, the only one in the car was a mere human.  May knew better.  Her niece the witch, even untrained and resisting, had been able to spot them clear as day.  May was so proud of that girl.  She hoped what she did here would keep her safe.  At least if she failed, her niece had the book.  She could protect herself with it while keeping it out of their hands.

Heading out to the edge of her property, she called up the years of protection spells she and her husband and poured into the land since the first night they spent in their new home.  Hoping to finish before sunset released them, she hurried in her preparations.  She finished with minutes to spare.  Nothing left to do but wait.

The sun slipped behind the mountain.  No longer needing the protection, eight black skeletal creatures cast off their daytime coverings.  Sand flew as the covers dissolved in the wake of the creatures sprinting into the night, seeking their prey.

A series of screams split the night, warning May of the monsters’ approach.  With a silence that made her hair stand on end, May saw her preparations come into play in a rush of blue light, creating a half sphere around her and the 8 demons.  One of them, probably the leader, paused, sensing a trap, but it was too late.  May stood and with an effort to steady a voice shaking in fear she spoke her final words, “So mote it be.”

***

A bright blue white light flashed across the valley.  Jemma thought she might have been imagining things when she saw a golden light respond from every seam in the jacket she had donned when entering the chilly diner.  No one else seemed to notice anything.  Everyone ate and drank and carried on as if the valley hadn’t just been lit up like a Christmas tree.

Deciding an hour was more than reasonable time to wait for a friend to come get the book, Jemma reached for the envelope to pay for supper.  Opening it surprised her.  Inside she found a letter an a stack of hundred dollar bills.  Leaving the bills in the envelope, she pulled the letter open and read:

Darling Jemma,

    I want to apologize for sending you on a false errand.  I needed you to be safely gone with the book before they came.

    You did not see statues, but demons’ day forms when you came to visit me today.  I fought them when I was young, and made enemies among them, before I ever met your uncle.  I loved him enough to hide from the demons rather than fight them.  I suppose I got that, a quiet life filled with love and laughter by your uncle’s side.  And I got to know you.

    I would explain everything to you, but time runs short.  I must get you away before they come.  You need to know, you have a gift.  You can see what other cannot and protect them from evils they do not know.  The book will help you.

    If I succeed tonight, you will see a flash of light as the demons are destroyed, taking me with them.  Regardless of my success or failure, you are no longer safe here.  Take the book, the coat, and the money and run.  This is all I can do for you now.  I love you forever.

Blessed be,

Aunt May

Jemma folded the letter up and tucked it into an inside pocket of the coat her aunt had made sure to give her as a final parting gift.  Leaving some money on the table for the meal, she headed back to the car.  She wondered how long it would take to get to the airport.

Prompt here

It's Official

Today, I finally got around to actually signing up for NaNoWriMo.  Clicking on the NaNoWriMo badge on the right will take you to my profile page.  I know, procrastination is my middle name.  I just didn't really see the point in signing up early.  Now I do and, if I participate again next year, I will definitely sign up earlier.  One perk to signing up early is getting to know the local NaNoWriMo community.  Turns out that there are groups across the globe that get together to support each other.  I'm in the Northern Virginia group.  Northern Virginia is generally considered the Virginia section of the Washington, D.C. infrastructure.  I did not sign up early enough to participate in most of the outline parties available, however I am looking forward to the Kick-Off party this weekend!

Just because I haven't participated in an outline party doesn't mean I haven't done any thinking about my novel, though I would be hard pressed to call what I've done outlining.  My instructors from school would have laughed themselves sick if I had tried to turn this in as an outline.  Yep, that scribble with bubbles, arrows, and squiggles is what is passing for my outline.  In case the big circled "Spacestation" on the outline didn't give it away, my story is going to be science fiction.  I have no clue how much of what is on that page is actually going to go into my story, but that's the fun part!  I may spend some more of the waiting period fleshing out my mental image of some of the characters.  I'm so excited I can hardly wait for November to get here.

Nightmare Fuel, Day 21

“It isn’t right!” a female voice screeched.

“We need to feed the world.  After everyone is fed, you can dither about right and wrong,” a much calmer, quieter voice replied.  “These changes have the potential to increase crops ten fold.  All it takes is a little tweak, increasing yield per plant and decreasing disease susceptibility.  There is nothing wrong.  It’s all the same stuff, just boosted a little.”

“It isn’t right.”  The woman’s voice pleaded.  “There’s a reason you can’t find it in nature.  Adding DNA from bats to fruit trees is sure to have unforeseen consequences.”

“I’ll take my chances.”  The calm voice brooked no further conversation.

The door to the greenhouse opened to admit a tall man in a pristine white lab coat.  He took a moment, as the door closed, to survey the rows of trees filling the facility before pulling up his clipboard and walking to the head of the first row.

Calmly, he walked down the rows, taking notes on tree growth, fruit size and color, and fruit quantity.  Thinking back on his conversation with the strange guest geneticist, he shook his head.  She was seeing problems that were not there.  This facility alone had been testing genetic varieties for decades at this point and nothing terrible had happened.  They had found the pear that became poisonous when cooked before putting it out for sale, though that had been close.  They only found it because they were cooking one up for the marketing pictures.  The model had spent a week in the hospital.  That had only happened once though.  And they had learned from it, which is what this lab was all about.

Realizing he had finished this greenhouse, he tried to shake off the conversation as he entered the next greenhouse.  This one was designed to test the disease resistance of apple varieties to a new virus that was destroying crops across the west coast.  The control varieties were looking very sick.  Some of them may be dead.  The test varieties seemed to be much more resistant.  Walking up and down the rows, he found one variety that didn’t seem to have caught the virus at all.  They looked perfect.  They even had beautiful, ripe red fruit.  He ran a finger over one of the apples.  It was smooth and firm.  Making a note, he turned to leave.

As the door closed behind him, he did not see the fruit he had touched open a mouth full of sharp teeth.  He did not see the pink tongue lick the place he had touched.  He did not see it grin before closing into a perfect apple once again.

Prompt here