Friday, November 02, 2007

Nanowrimo update

Nanowrimo started yesterday. I tried so hard to get started, but by the time the day was done I only had about 800 words. Things went a little better today, and I have my two days worth. My nanowrimo stats aren't working right now. I guess they are having some kind of hardships with their sight. It is soooooooo slow right now.

The hardest part of the novel was writing about the relationship between my heroin and her boyfriend. I guess I don't remember how it is supposed to work anymore. It has been a long time already. It has been over a year since I have even been on a date. I am busy.

It is late now and I am so tired, so please excuse any nonsense you read in this post. It is all nonsense to me right now.

Classes are going good, really. I have an A in my art class, which is cool, and liberates me to really let loose. My Measurement and Test construction teacher thinks I'm awesome, and I think my History of Psych professor thinks I'm ok to. I have A in all three of those classes right now, which is so awesome. I need to focus on them.

I am actually having a blast in the History of Psychology class. That's right, it's history and I'm loving it. I actually am quite interested in history. But this class is so much fun.

It is the Psyc of learning class that bogs me down. I have a b. I don't know if I will be able to get it up to an a, but I am going to try. I'm just not going to beat myself up over it.

So, want to know what I am writing? I'm not sure yet really, but here is a couple of excerpts. Yes, it does seem a little depressing. Yes, my heroin is sitting on a ledge planning to jump to her death. Yes, the story will be about why she is there, and whether she will jump or not. I still don't know how it will end, and I have been kicking it around in my head for a long time.

The hedges died long ago. Their corpses, black and biting, still tower above me. The bristly branches are hopelessly intertwined. The ground is cold and barren, and littered with shards of broken dreams. Even the sky no longer lends light to the path.

I’ve been trapped in this maze my whole life. I wander from pathway to pathway, only to be blocked over and again. I call out to the voices I can hear just on the other side. They answer, but make no sense. My courage wanes and all hope recedes into the dark clouds above.

It is a treacherous thing to be lost and forgotten. No comfort comes to a solitary soul. A corner is turned and the way seems clear. The last of the steps are inevitably met with disappointment and pain. Surviving is to be forever trapped in pain and loneliness and hopelessness, unguided, unheard, unloved.

Today the path has brought me here, to the rim of a deep gorge. I am sitting on the edge, prepared to leap into the abyss. I wonder if help will come. Will anyone see me sitting here? Will anyone care? I no longer burden myself with hope.

The wind is warm as it strokes my face. I can feel the heat rising from the dark rocks below. I peer over the edge and look to the bottom. It doesn’t really seem that far, but I know that my eyes are deceiving me. It is the length of two and a half foot ball fields from here to the floor of the canyon.

Basalt boulders litter the floor of the canyon, but from here they look like skipping stones. Grasses poke up around them, and colorful wildflowers are sprinkled about. The sounds of the river are just barely audible because of the wind hitting my ears.

A red tailed hawk is spiraling higher and higher, riding the thermals as though he has no cares in the world. I wonder what it would be like to be him. He hunts for his dinner, and stays out of the way of danger when possible. Does he ever contemplate the meaning of his existence? Does he ever chide himself for failing to take the right paths? Does he miss his offspring when they are gone?

He is close enough now that I can see his flight feathers reacting to the small updrafts in the heat currents. He doesn’t even seem to notice me sitting here. His grace and strength are beautiful to behold. His head cocks from one side to another. I wonder if he is sensing mice below.

I am jolted out of my thoughts when he cries out. I wonder if he was directing his scream at me. He is so beautiful, and graceful. So beautiful.


  1. Cheri, I have the same problem this year. But I haven't caught up yet. I've been busy as all get out this past week, but I'll be spending most of the day in waiting rooms Monday, so I hope to make up at least some of my lack.

    And, don't worry about it. Remember, the process is the thing. It should be fun!

  2. Go, chick, go!! Keep writing...

    When I advise my students about writing, I tell them what I do: just write what is in my head at the moment, and hook it all together later.

    Nobody said that your story has to emerge from your head as a complete story from beginning to end!! It only has to read like that...