Day Two - Tickety-Boo! (or not)


2,001 words today. 5,009 words total.

I hesitated to post daily NaNoWriMo counts here, because I imagine I'm one of one people in the world that actually care how many words I've written today (or tomorrow or the day after), but I changed my mind. I need a daily kick in the patootie to keep me going. I'm over five thousand words into my WIP - ten per cent of the total - and I have absolutely no idea where I'm going with the story. You would think I hadn't been planning scenes and making index cards and family trees for the last month and more. I'm having trouble getting  twelve-year-old Bridget out of her mother's kitchen, and she has a long way to go. I may have to set fire to the house to pry her loose. I know where and how old I want her to be at the end of the month, but I am at a loss as to how to get her there. Hence the need for a daily kick. If I don't keep writing, I'll never figure out what to do with poor Bridget, and if I don't have to come here and report my progress, I'll soon despair of Bridget and go write a poem.

I thought the Slough of Despond was on next week's itinerary!

Day One, All Done

...and I have written 3,008 words of a completely crappy first draft of Fly Away Home. Never mind. I have seen my internal editor peeking her schoolmarmy head around the corner, and I have given her my best Bronx cheer.

And speaking of cheer, this is what things looked like down at the corner last night, when my batteries were running low - and so were my camera's. It took me until today to realize that that was the reason my photos were coming out so blurry. In the photo above, some of our local goblins are awaiting the arrival of the torchbearer. I may have discovered a new art form.

The lady in the photo on the right is
 awaiting the arrival of the flame so that she can carry it on to the next runner. It appears that the torches are butane-fueled. When the torchbearer arrived, the torch was not passed on, just the flame. I meant to ask whether the torchbearers are allowed to keep their torches as souvenirs. That would be rather special.

So - here comes the flame. I had run back to the house to get fresh batteries, and after all the waiting, I nearly missed the big moment. I actually jogged the last half-block, as my aching hip will attest.

And there it goes.  

I wrote my first thousand words between midnight and 1:00 a.m., then went to bed. Today, I feel as if I stayed up until 1:00 a.m. However, I soldiered on, adding 2,008 words to my Day One production, for a total of 3,008. Now, if I can just do that fifteen times more, I'll be able to skate through the last two weeks of the month. (Yeah, right.)

We both had the day off today, so Robin was here to remind me that I needed some exercise. We went out for our usual walk/bike ride. Then, because it was still sunny but not expected to stay that way, we seized the day by driving down to Chemainus and strolling around. Chemainus is a lovely little town, full of murals, and it was the murals that I wanted to see - but as soon as we arrived, Robin discovered this fellow - who was actually a little startling at first glance.

We took a walk around the town, enjoyed the murals (I particularly like this one) and drove home.

Then I wrote another thousand words or so, to fill my quota. My question is this: If I can write that much today, while still getting some exercise and spending a couple of hours playing tourist on my island, why can't I do it all the time?

Wait! I almost forgot. I wanted to show you my latest writing props, the Hat for Conjuring Stories and the sandara goddess of the written word wig. I have displayed them both on the closest thing I have to a model, just for you. I wore the hat last night. When I hit my first brick wall, I'll put the wig on to get me over it. Who could be anything but brilliant while wearing such bling?

On Your Mark -- Get Set --

I discovered tonight that there is a NaNoWriMo group at Facebook, so I joined it. I've quite enjoyed watching people from various time zones fidget their way to their midnights, then come back to brag about the word counts they've racked up before heading off to bed.  I'm still waiting my turn, getting fidgetier by the moment, changing my POV somewhere in the course of the evening. I think Bridget's little brother Charlie is going to be the narrator. At least, that is how the book will begin. Time will tell whether Charlie works out. I have high hopes for Charlie. He's Bridget's favourite brother. But if he doesn't work out, I'll ruthlessly fire him and choose a new narrator. I can do anything I like, because it's my book.

My new, devil-may-care attitude comes from my having pushed the "Take My Inner Editor" button that Chris Baty kindly provided on page 108 of No Plot? No Problem! Now that I've sent my Inner Editor away for the month, I'm likely to write some outrageous stuff, so I'll apologize now, just in case. The attitude could conceivably leak out into my blog.

Originally, I came here to tell you about what I did this evening. I found out that the Olympic torch was to be carried through my neighbourhood, so I went out to watch it go by. As it turned out, the torch was passed from one runner to another, right at the end of our block. Robin had finished work and joined me in time to watch  the transfer -- because the relay was running way behind schedule. Then we went downtown to see the fireworks, but we ended up sitting at the Fox & Hounds, playing rummy and having a pint while we waited for the fireworks to start. Finally, we drove down near the harbour to see what was happening. It looked as if everybody were leaving. We weren't sure how we had missed the display, but apparently we had, so we gave up and came home. I was sitting here, tweeting, when I heard the fireworks start (at least an hour late). Never mind. I had things to do here.

This is what I wrote at Facebook:

"I have signed the pledge and read the Week One chapter of "No Plot? No Problem". A few minutes ago, I pushed the "Take My Inner Editor" button. Now I am sitting in the living room, wearing blue and white striped pajamas, fuzzy pink slippers, and a stunning black witchy hat with a large purple flower on one side and a black half-veil. I have my cup of tea at my side, JAZZRADIO.com playing on i-Tunes. Now all I need is midnight. Fifty minutes to go."

 By the way, the stunning black witchy hat is something I picked up downtown, earlier today. I found Hallowe'en paraphernalia on sale at 70% off its regular price, so I bought the hat (my Conjuring Stories Hat) and a gold ribbon wig (my sandara, goddess of the written word wig). I figure they'll both come in handy in the course of the month, and afterward, my granddaughter will enjoy wearing them for dress-up.

The minutes are clicking by, now. Wilson, Duffy, and Steinbeck have joined me in the living room,  for moral support. Robin keeps asking whether I'm going to fly away on my broom. He really likes this hat.

Ten minutes to go. I've brought My Writing Nook up on the screen.

Five minutes. I've poured a fresh cup of gen mai cha.

It's midnight.......Go!