Bookworms, aspiring writers, the end of the month is near, and, with it, NaNoWriMo. The dearly beloved- or hated- goal of 50,000 words is so close you can almost touch it. Or maybe, not. But, tell me, did NaNo ate your BRAIN yet?
I know, despite this completely taking over my life, filling my schedule, filling my head with words I just NEED to get out there, NaNoWriMo isn’t that bad...IS IT?
I have to say, for now, I’m pleasantly surprised, because I wrote. I don’t know what that is, yet, I don’t know if my story is making any sense, and there are MAJOR PLOT HOLES in it. But I am writing, and not giving this up. This is obviously a big progress comparing to last year’s NaNoWriMo, and I’m proud of it. This is probably one thing to remember : no matter HOW MUCH you’re writing, the goal isn’t 50,000 words. THE GOAL IS TO WRITE. Wake up the writer in you, wake up the itching of your fingertips on the keyboard.
I still feel like NaNoWriMo is time-consuming, a BRAIN-EATING kind of torture that you’re supposed to endure if you want to boost yourself to write. Take cookies, CHOCOLATE, whatever food is working for you, and go let’s write. Some days are hard, others are more easy, and the words just flow on the page. No matter what kind of day we’re having, let’s not give this up, okay?
A what? A SNIPPET?!
Last week, I told you that I’m writing a contemporary novel, with a twist that you won’t see coming, hopefully. It deals with studies, pressure, it has childhood best friends with a complicated and heartbreaking relationship, it’s about who to trust and who you can’t trust.
Some of you – you’ll recognize yourself, and I love you, and I’m so FLATTERED that you’re taking an interest in my work – wanted to know more about what I’m currently working on for this year’s NaNoWriMo. Well, here goes! I’m very nervous about this, but I wanted to share a little snippet for you guys. Remember that English isn’t my mother tongue, so I apologize for any mistakes I might have made in this. Okay, now, I’ll cross my fingers, hoping you’ll like this…and, here goes 😳.
“Raindrops fall on the window like fingertips, begging to enter into the princess’ room. Her eyelids are closed, but her whole face wears a frown. Drops of sweats make their way on the forehead of the girl lying under the messed-up sheets. Her lips part, and then close again. Steps make their way onto the creaky floor, and the door of the room opens, silently. One, two, three steps. Three seconds, and a hand rests on the young girl’s shoulder, waking her up. Her eyes are the color of the ocean during a storm, and they are frantically searching the night, her hands protecting her body by instinct. The moonlight falls onto the intruder’s face. Long, blond hair, eyes exactly just like hers. A quick look on her nightstand tells her that it’s 2:56 in the morning.
“Mom? Is that you?”
Keely’s voice is still half asleep, shaking from the nightmare she’s still living, even now that she’s wide awake. Her mom’s wearing day clothes, despite it being the middle of the night. She lays a hand on her cheek. It’s cold, and wet. Confused, Keely moves a hair out of her face, and sits in her bed, getting rid of the sheets that she’s tangled into.
“What’s going on?”
Silent, Keely studies her mother’s familiar face. Despite her fifties, she doesn’t have one single wrinkle, and her eyes are as fierce as a twelve-year-old kid. But, that night, there is something more. Something different, a dark shadow covering her face. Keely opens her mouth again, then closes it, pieces of the puzzle suddenly put into place. She jumps out of her bed in a second, gets out of her mother’s grip, takes a cardigan on a chair, and goes out. Stairs fly by under her naked feet. She doesn’t even have to open the door. On the porch, they are all here. Familiar faces, watching her like she is a stranger. They all wear the same expression. Despair. Sadness.
“It’s him, isn’t it? Gaulthier? Did they leave without saying goodbye?”
Her voice shake as she speaks. The nightmare was gone, but now, there was this anger, already eating her from inside. How could he leave without a goodbye, after all those years?!
Tears were already falling down her cheeks. That’s when she really looks, at all those people sitting on the porch. Her dad, his hair all messed-up, like he went to bed and woke up just like her. Gaulthier’s mom, strangely wearing day clothes, her suit barely wrinkled. And Gaulthier’s uncle, his dark hair under the moonlight, and his suit, perfect.
More confused than ever, Keely looks at her father. He couldn’t lie to her, she knew that much. But, when he chose to lower his eyes, Keely knew that something was wrong. Really wrong.
“Where is Gaulthier?”
A few seconds go by in silence. The wind picked up, sending Keely’s hair tie far away, on the beach, and into the ocean, probably. Gaulthier’s uncle makes a step towards her.
“He’s gone.” He was trying to be soft, but, with his raspy voice, it was more scary than reassuring.
“What do you mean, gone? Without you? Without his mother?”
Keely takes a step back, almost going back into the safety of her own home, every fiber in her body telling her to avoid whatever drama was going out outside. But her heart beating tells her it’s impossible.
“He said he couldn’t handle it anymore”. her mother says, standing up and holding out a hand to Keely, slowly, like she’s afraid she will bite her. “We got into a fight. I got up into his room to apologize, but when I got there, he was already gone. The window was open. I called Richard and we followed his steps to the beach. He –” her voice breaks. “He was already gone. We found part of his clothes, right next to your usual spot.”
Gaulthier’s mother takes something from one of the while chairs of the porch. It’s a tee-shirt, Keely realizes, and she doesn’t need the sunlight to know it’s blue. Blue like the color of the sky that day, blue like the color of the calm ocean, blue like his eyes. She didn’t need more light to realize that Gaulthier’s mother was touching the cloth with precaution, as if she was scared to catch a cold by holding it. Or maybe, to avoid the large, unmistakable trace of blood on it.
A few times, Keely blinks her eyes, tries to understand. She watches every single people surrounding her. She listens to the clock of the church nearby, ringing three in the morning. Silently, barely opening her lips, she counts, then, just like he teached her. One. Two. Three. Then, she blacks out.”
So tell me, guys, how are you doing with NaNoWriMo? Are you friends, or ennemies with the word count? Do you think you’ll make it? WHAT IS YOUR STORY ABOUT? Tell me everything! 💬 If you’re still struggling, even though I’m no expert on this, I offer you some piece of advice in my latest blog post.
What did you think of that little extract? Do you want to know more? Let me know your thoughts in comments 💭