Day 7 of the 2009 NaNoWriMo challenge finds me at a little more than half-way to my target of 5000 words every three days. I was talking to a friend about it on Friday, and I said that this would be the make or break weekend for me. Either I'd catch up or quit. Hmm...
“… girls on the left, guys on the right,” Doc was saying. “Grab your gear from the pile and find your cabin group.”
Greg looked a little panicky. “Are you okay?” Hannah whispered...
...“You’ll block our view of the boys.”
Dana shrugged. “Whatever. I wasn’t going to take it anyway.”
Word count: 6180
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Friday, November 6, 2009
NaNoWriMo Day 6
A tall man with a scraggly beard and a red baseball cap stepped onto the bus before anyone could get off. "Welcome to Camp High Ridge," he shouted. "I know you've had a long trip, but I need you to settle down and listen for your directions before you leave the bus."
Next to Hannah, Greg was getting a little antsy. He was the kind of kid who was a real stickler for the rules. Their dad used to tease him about how well he could stay in the lines when he colored. "You know, Greg, the lines are not always your friends," Dad would say. Thinking back on it now, Hannah sucked on her teeth, making a tsk sound. Maybe Dad should have made better friends with the lines, she thought. Around them, there were impatient sighs and muttering, but the group quieted. "My name is Doc," he told them. "Those of you who have been here before know that I'm the head counselor."
Where did that nickname come from? Hannah wondered. He didn't look old enough to be a doctor, plus, what kind of doctor would work at a summer camp? Remind me not to get sick in the next two weeks, she thought.
Word count: 4764
Next to Hannah, Greg was getting a little antsy. He was the kind of kid who was a real stickler for the rules. Their dad used to tease him about how well he could stay in the lines when he colored. "You know, Greg, the lines are not always your friends," Dad would say. Thinking back on it now, Hannah sucked on her teeth, making a tsk sound. Maybe Dad should have made better friends with the lines, she thought. Around them, there were impatient sighs and muttering, but the group quieted. "My name is Doc," he told them. "Those of you who have been here before know that I'm the head counselor."
Where did that nickname come from? Hannah wondered. He didn't look old enough to be a doctor, plus, what kind of doctor would work at a summer camp? Remind me not to get sick in the next two weeks, she thought.
Word count: 4764
Thursday, November 5, 2009
NaNoWriMo Day 5
The bus jolted and rocked up the narrow drive. All around them kids shrieked and screamed as if they were on a roller coaster ride. Every few feet, a tree scraped against the side of the bus, poking its branches through any open windows, and boys would grab them and hold on until they had a handful of stripped leaves which they tossed in the air as they reached for the next intruding bough. Hannah couldn’t believe the chaos. Their formerly strict bus driver had turned into Mr. Softee, only without the bell and ice cream.
Soon enough, though, the road curved to the right and down, and several cabins and a small lake emerged brown and blue from the green. The bus pulled to a stop on a circular driveway with a flagpole at the center. All the children stood up, gathering their things quickly and pressing toward the aisle. The bus driver did not move. “I don’t know where ya’ll think you’re going,” he said. The folding door remained closed. The cloud of dust that they had kicked up on their way into the drive billowed in the air outside, and Hannah could see nothing out the window.
As they stood there, eight figures appeared out of the gloom. Had they been standing there al along, Hannah wondered, or did they just get here? The door to the bus opened then, and the line of kids moved forward.
Word Count: 4558
Soon enough, though, the road curved to the right and down, and several cabins and a small lake emerged brown and blue from the green. The bus pulled to a stop on a circular driveway with a flagpole at the center. All the children stood up, gathering their things quickly and pressing toward the aisle. The bus driver did not move. “I don’t know where ya’ll think you’re going,” he said. The folding door remained closed. The cloud of dust that they had kicked up on their way into the drive billowed in the air outside, and Hannah could see nothing out the window.
As they stood there, eight figures appeared out of the gloom. Had they been standing there al along, Hannah wondered, or did they just get here? The door to the bus opened then, and the line of kids moved forward.
Word Count: 4558
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
NaNoWriMo Day 4
“I’m from Great Falls,” she told him. “Me and my friends.” She flipped her carefully curling-ironed brown hair toward the back of the bus...
...As they spoke, Hannah felt the bus slowing. To their right was a carved wooden sign with an arrow pointing up a rutted gravel lane, Camp High Ridge. The bus down shifted and the engine seemed to grind as they turned onto the narrow road heading up. Here we go, she thought.
Word count: 4318
(I'm hoping to make up some words over the weekend!)
...As they spoke, Hannah felt the bus slowing. To their right was a carved wooden sign with an arrow pointing up a rutted gravel lane, Camp High Ridge. The bus down shifted and the engine seemed to grind as they turned onto the narrow road heading up. Here we go, she thought.
Word count: 4318
(I'm hoping to make up some words over the weekend!)
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
NaNoWriMo Day 3
The door to the shed was open when Hannah got there, and she rolled the wheel barrow to its customary place behind the lawn mower. As she turned to leave, she heard low voices coming from the open studio window right outside the door...
... “What are you looking at?” the girl asked when she caught Hannah’s eye.
“Not much,” Hannah shrugged and turned her shoulder.
Hunter snorted, but the girl ignored it. “I’m Amy,” she introduced herself.
Total word count: 3839
Monday, November 2, 2009
NaNoWriMo Day 2
The next couple of days passed in a blur of packing and shopping. The camp had sent a list of required and recommended items, and because the whole thing was so spur-of the-moment, they needed most of them. Sleeping bags, packs, canteens, compasses, hats, rain gear, hiking boots, bug spray and first aid kits were piled high in the corner of the dining room. They both needed physicals and tetanus shots, too. Under different circumstances, it might have been fun, but Hannah found herself moving through the days lethargically, as if she was already carrying the red backpack that topped her collection of gear...
...The next morning, her parents acted like nothing unusual had happened the night before, and the furnace was working fine, water gurgled quietly through the radiators.
Total word count: 3011
...The next morning, her parents acted like nothing unusual had happened the night before, and the furnace was working fine, water gurgled quietly through the radiators.
Total word count: 3011
Sunday, November 1, 2009
NaNoWriMo Day 1
It's crazy, but I just wanted to give the novel writing challenge a try. My plan for the month is to post my first and last paragraph for the day along with my word count. May you all be my witnesses.
Hannah Wilder stared out the window of the bus. Barbed wire and blackberry brambles lined field after field of corn or tobacco as they rolled up and down the hilly two-lane road. She recognized the crops from car trips with her parents. Her mother always drove, and her father always quizzed them from the passenger seat. “What’s the name of this river?” he’d ask every time they headed north to visit her grandparents...
...Hannah and Greg looked at each other, and stood quickly, scraping their chairs back. They followed their mother to the kitchen but continued out the back door. Hannah was a few feet ahead, but they both knew where they were going. Three summers ago, their parents had built a tree house in the big mulberry in the corner of the backyard. Her tears were falling furiously when Hannah hit the ladder, and she could hear Greg choking on sobs behind her. Once safely inside, she sat down hard, wrapped her arms around her legs and cried. Greg leaned against her, and it was the sound of his misery that finally broke through her own. She put an arm around him and wiped her face. He continued to weep for a few more minutes, but she squeezed his shoulder and whispered that it would be all right.
Word count: 1591
Hannah Wilder stared out the window of the bus. Barbed wire and blackberry brambles lined field after field of corn or tobacco as they rolled up and down the hilly two-lane road. She recognized the crops from car trips with her parents. Her mother always drove, and her father always quizzed them from the passenger seat. “What’s the name of this river?” he’d ask every time they headed north to visit her grandparents...
...Hannah and Greg looked at each other, and stood quickly, scraping their chairs back. They followed their mother to the kitchen but continued out the back door. Hannah was a few feet ahead, but they both knew where they were going. Three summers ago, their parents had built a tree house in the big mulberry in the corner of the backyard. Her tears were falling furiously when Hannah hit the ladder, and she could hear Greg choking on sobs behind her. Once safely inside, she sat down hard, wrapped her arms around her legs and cried. Greg leaned against her, and it was the sound of his misery that finally broke through her own. She put an arm around him and wiped her face. He continued to weep for a few more minutes, but she squeezed his shoulder and whispered that it would be all right.
Word count: 1591
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