NewNaNo splots

NaNoWriMo is just around the corner and I’m going to need to be strict! The plan is 1k words before lunch (up at 7:30 and write like a maniac, taking a break about 9 for brekkie and shower) and 1k words after lunch. I’m planning to finish by 3pm and let my eyes glaze over.

Then there are those pesky work days. B****R! That’s something different. How on earth do I fit 2k words into a day where I’m miles away from the computer? I suppose it will be good down time for my subconscious to help work out plot, but once out of my writing stride, I find it difficult to get back into again.

There is no way around it…late nights for me. (wrinkles forehead and tries to envision getting home at 6:30, skipping dinner and writing until midnight)

When I was working full time in London once upon an era ago, I used to wake up at 5am to write, get on the 7ish train and sleep until I got to the station. Then I’d use my lunch break to hide in a quiet spot and write there. I reached a high word count, but couldn’t keep up the early mornings for more than three months. As this is only a one month stint of insanity, I think I might be able to do it J

Ah, and here is a small clip from my latest short story that I’m not supposed to be working on (rough draft of course):

The Taking of Alexander

I grew up on these islands – running barefoot from shore to shore with each new tide. Mother used to wake with the sun to see what new ships would pass on the horizon. I didn’t know it then, but she was really waiting for my father. Each morn to the darkest setting of the sun, she’d look wistfully out to sea.
It wasn’t until my sixteenth year that I knew I wanted something more. Just as my mother had left her hut and wandered to the shore, I knew that there would be a ship. And there was. I didn’t really want to leave her – the other islanders didn’t visit her anymore. But I had to go. I guess it was my father’s blood that called me to him.
‘Alexander, don’t go,’ she said to me as we watched the ship come in. We both knew this ship wouldn’t pass. The islanders had a knack about knowing these things and even though I was half islander, I still couldn’t see in the way my mother could. ‘I’ll never see you again.’
I kept silent. It hurt me to see her lose another family member, but the longing to go was stronger than the need for air after a long dive.