Amazing pictures of the world's smallest girl, in India. She may be tiny, but what a beautiful smile!
In more serious news, today is Veterans' Day. I haven't personally seen a vet, given the small bubble in which I spend most of my time, but if any of you have come across one, I hope you've thanked them. I know I will; whether it's November 11th or not, it's always their day to be thanked and supported.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Day Eleven
By some miracle, I am still on my word count. That miracle is, I believe, known as "having a laptop." Since I refuse to write by hand in favor of using a computer, having a portable version translates into the ability to write...well, anywhere, really. On the couch, in various houses, in random parts of campus, in the kitchen of my dorm while making dinner, or in the car on the way home from Vermont (I wasn't driving, I promise).
Last night's wordcount: 17,018. Today's goal: 18,337.
I've also been offered the opportunity to write a guest post for http://www.hownottowrite.com/. I'll probably make an attempt, even if it turns out to be a shameful one that I wouldn't actually send to anybody and end up trashing. After all, I have procrastination to get to!
I stopped, turned around, and jogged the other way. There was no way I was going to try to wade through them; somehow I doubted they would move. I’d just have to take the long way back.
As I reached the edge of the pond and came around the last tree into the parking lot, I was startled to see Fin. He was walking toward the path, but stopped when he saw me.
“You don’t want to go down there,” I warned him. “There’s crows, lots of them, and they look mean.”
He looked at me thoughtfully for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, I know.”
“You know? Then why are you going that way?”
He shrugged. “I was curious.”
“About what? Have you never seen a crow before?”
“I’ve seen a lot of them, actually,” he said. I was inching away from the head of the path as he spoke, not wanting to encounter the huge birds again. I hoped he would take the hint and either let me go or walk with me. I didn’t want to be rude by just walking away in the middle of a conversation, but I really wanted to be elsewhere at that moment.
“Um. Are you a birder?” I guessed.
“Nah, not my thing,” he said. “Just crows.” He didn’t explain further, but he did finally start walking away from the path. I followed quickly, unsure what else to say but glad to be getting away from the pond and the woods.
We walked in silence for a minute while I worried about various things. I had no idea what he was thinking, and after our conversations in class, I was pretty sure I didn’t want to know.
“Have you always attracted crows?” he asked suddenly, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Huh? Oh, um, no. I don’t think so,” I said. “I mean, there was this one last week, but before that, no.”
“Recent,” he muttered to himself, nodding like he had confirmed a suspicion. Then to me, “What happened? With the last crow, I mean.”
“It flew into my window,” I answered, shuddering at the memory. “It was dark, I guess he couldn’t see it or something. It…” I left it there. The rest just sounded completely nuts, which I probably was. This conversation undoubtedly meant nothing.
“What?” he prompted, but I shook my head.
“Nothing.”
He turned and stared at me as we walked along, and I stared back, wondering if this was a no-blinking contest like the kind I used to have with Marielle in third grade. If it was, I was going to lose; I’d never been good at them.
“Hm,” he finally said, and faced forward again.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head and clearly imitating me.
“Oh, I see,” I said. “If I don’t talk, you don’t either?” Usually that would get people to protest – and to start talking. Not this time.
“Yup,” he said amiably.
Well, I told myself, I could be just as stubborn. I didn’t say another word except for “bye” for the rest of the walk.
Last night's wordcount: 17,018. Today's goal: 18,337.
I've also been offered the opportunity to write a guest post for http://www.hownottowrite.com/. I'll probably make an attempt, even if it turns out to be a shameful one that I wouldn't actually send to anybody and end up trashing. After all, I have procrastination to get to!
I stopped, turned around, and jogged the other way. There was no way I was going to try to wade through them; somehow I doubted they would move. I’d just have to take the long way back.
As I reached the edge of the pond and came around the last tree into the parking lot, I was startled to see Fin. He was walking toward the path, but stopped when he saw me.
“You don’t want to go down there,” I warned him. “There’s crows, lots of them, and they look mean.”
He looked at me thoughtfully for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, I know.”
“You know? Then why are you going that way?”
He shrugged. “I was curious.”
“About what? Have you never seen a crow before?”
“I’ve seen a lot of them, actually,” he said. I was inching away from the head of the path as he spoke, not wanting to encounter the huge birds again. I hoped he would take the hint and either let me go or walk with me. I didn’t want to be rude by just walking away in the middle of a conversation, but I really wanted to be elsewhere at that moment.
“Um. Are you a birder?” I guessed.
“Nah, not my thing,” he said. “Just crows.” He didn’t explain further, but he did finally start walking away from the path. I followed quickly, unsure what else to say but glad to be getting away from the pond and the woods.
We walked in silence for a minute while I worried about various things. I had no idea what he was thinking, and after our conversations in class, I was pretty sure I didn’t want to know.
“Have you always attracted crows?” he asked suddenly, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Huh? Oh, um, no. I don’t think so,” I said. “I mean, there was this one last week, but before that, no.”
“Recent,” he muttered to himself, nodding like he had confirmed a suspicion. Then to me, “What happened? With the last crow, I mean.”
“It flew into my window,” I answered, shuddering at the memory. “It was dark, I guess he couldn’t see it or something. It…” I left it there. The rest just sounded completely nuts, which I probably was. This conversation undoubtedly meant nothing.
“What?” he prompted, but I shook my head.
“Nothing.”
He turned and stared at me as we walked along, and I stared back, wondering if this was a no-blinking contest like the kind I used to have with Marielle in third grade. If it was, I was going to lose; I’d never been good at them.
“Hm,” he finally said, and faced forward again.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head and clearly imitating me.
“Oh, I see,” I said. “If I don’t talk, you don’t either?” Usually that would get people to protest – and to start talking. Not this time.
“Yup,” he said amiably.
Well, I told myself, I could be just as stubborn. I didn’t say another word except for “bye” for the rest of the walk.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Day Seven
Today's wordcount: 11,676. Tomorrow's goal: 13,336. Needless to say, I made it over the five-digit mark.
The only good thing I ever had to say about Professor Gray is that technically he knew his subject, which was Abnormal Psychology. Aside from that, he was nothing more than everything that his last name implied. Everything from his eyes to his tweed suit to his personality was gray. He probably had unsweetened oatmeal for breakfast and showered in dishwater. Even his voice matched his personal pallet.
“Good morning, class. Please settle down while I take attendance.” He required us all to sit in alphabetical order by last name; he was the only college professor I ever knew of who did so. We all sat in relative quiet while he went through his seating chart and checked us off row by row, starting in one corner and working his way to the opposing one. Those who were unfortunate enough to have quiet voices or to not pay attention the first time were marked absent.
“Here,” I said loudly the second he called my name. I wasn’t about to take an X on his sheet when I was sitting right in front of him.
When he was finished with his roster, he filed it in a manila folder, which went into a stack of other similar folders, and then pulled a sheaf of meticulous notes out of his textbook.
“Today,” he announced in a voice completely devoid of inflection or emotion, “We are going to do a comparison exercise. You will work in partners.” There was a general shifting noise throughout the classroom as people made to sit with their friends, but it was silenced when Professor Gray cleared his throat. “I have paired you up by name so that you won’t be working with people who will distract you.” Though no one actually said anything, there was a distinct feel of disappoint that wafted through the air at his statement. We should have known better than to think he would let us get away with enjoying his class.
“Abramson, Finlay,” he said. “Allen, Delano.” Having been the first name on the list, I immediately tuned out the rest and starting looking around for someone by the last name of Finlay. The last name might have been useful had we all been wearing nametags. It didn’t seem to occur to the man that most people referred to each other by their first names and not their last ones. For someone who also taught social psychology, he was distincly lacking in a functional understanding of people being social.
The only good thing I ever had to say about Professor Gray is that technically he knew his subject, which was Abnormal Psychology. Aside from that, he was nothing more than everything that his last name implied. Everything from his eyes to his tweed suit to his personality was gray. He probably had unsweetened oatmeal for breakfast and showered in dishwater. Even his voice matched his personal pallet.
“Good morning, class. Please settle down while I take attendance.” He required us all to sit in alphabetical order by last name; he was the only college professor I ever knew of who did so. We all sat in relative quiet while he went through his seating chart and checked us off row by row, starting in one corner and working his way to the opposing one. Those who were unfortunate enough to have quiet voices or to not pay attention the first time were marked absent.
“Here,” I said loudly the second he called my name. I wasn’t about to take an X on his sheet when I was sitting right in front of him.
When he was finished with his roster, he filed it in a manila folder, which went into a stack of other similar folders, and then pulled a sheaf of meticulous notes out of his textbook.
“Today,” he announced in a voice completely devoid of inflection or emotion, “We are going to do a comparison exercise. You will work in partners.” There was a general shifting noise throughout the classroom as people made to sit with their friends, but it was silenced when Professor Gray cleared his throat. “I have paired you up by name so that you won’t be working with people who will distract you.” Though no one actually said anything, there was a distinct feel of disappoint that wafted through the air at his statement. We should have known better than to think he would let us get away with enjoying his class.
“Abramson, Finlay,” he said. “Allen, Delano.” Having been the first name on the list, I immediately tuned out the rest and starting looking around for someone by the last name of Finlay. The last name might have been useful had we all been wearing nametags. It didn’t seem to occur to the man that most people referred to each other by their first names and not their last ones. For someone who also taught social psychology, he was distincly lacking in a functional understanding of people being social.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
An Excerpt
Last night's word count: 8,442. Today's goal: 10,002. Five digits, twenty percent of the novel. We can do it!
And now for a short excerpt to get you all wondering...
To say that I knew who Seth was, of course, was not to say that we were friends, or that I had ever exchanged more than a startled glance with him. Everybody who had gone to my high school during the four years he was there knew exactly who he was; he really couldn’t be missed. It seemed as though he looked in the mirror each morning and decided he wasn’t noticeable enough naturally, so he added things to make himself moreso. For the most part it was black clothing, studded with metal spikes and dripping with chains, but he was a little more creative than the school’s gothic crew. I had seen him add to the outfit, among other things, hunter-orange sneakers, a large drooping silk peony, a midnight-blue blazer, and various bright jewelry and even brighter nail polish. These things had not, fortunately, been all at the same time, though there were certainly days when looking at him was the visual equivalent of riding a roller coaster through a tropical forest.
I avoided him like I tried to avoid snakes in the woods, not always successful, but always enthusiastic. No one who was anyone at school spoke to him, and they too tried their best to leave him plenty of space, moreso than any human actually needed. On the occasions that he would appear somewhere that we were, the girls would make their way elsewhere, some more loudly and hastily than others. The guys would either walk away in contempt or else loudly announce to him what his proper place was: not there. The most noticeable thing about him was how he seemed never to take the slightest notice of these things. I had seen him yelled at, insulted, run from, and even pushed into walls, but he always continued whatever he was doing without missing a step, the look of freakish calm on his face never changing.
And now for a short excerpt to get you all wondering...
To say that I knew who Seth was, of course, was not to say that we were friends, or that I had ever exchanged more than a startled glance with him. Everybody who had gone to my high school during the four years he was there knew exactly who he was; he really couldn’t be missed. It seemed as though he looked in the mirror each morning and decided he wasn’t noticeable enough naturally, so he added things to make himself moreso. For the most part it was black clothing, studded with metal spikes and dripping with chains, but he was a little more creative than the school’s gothic crew. I had seen him add to the outfit, among other things, hunter-orange sneakers, a large drooping silk peony, a midnight-blue blazer, and various bright jewelry and even brighter nail polish. These things had not, fortunately, been all at the same time, though there were certainly days when looking at him was the visual equivalent of riding a roller coaster through a tropical forest.
I avoided him like I tried to avoid snakes in the woods, not always successful, but always enthusiastic. No one who was anyone at school spoke to him, and they too tried their best to leave him plenty of space, moreso than any human actually needed. On the occasions that he would appear somewhere that we were, the girls would make their way elsewhere, some more loudly and hastily than others. The guys would either walk away in contempt or else loudly announce to him what his proper place was: not there. The most noticeable thing about him was how he seemed never to take the slightest notice of these things. I had seen him yelled at, insulted, run from, and even pushed into walls, but he always continued whatever he was doing without missing a step, the look of freakish calm on his face never changing.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Day Five
Day Five. As of last night, I've reached 6,770 words, just a little bit over the daily goal. Today's goal is 8,335.
I found a wonderfully inspiring thread in the NaNo forums yesterday, discussing how people have let their plots and their characters create themselves rather than trying to force them. I find this particularly inspiring because that's something I have a hard time with. I have a tendency to plot madly, carefully design my characters, and then force both to stay that way rather than letting them surprise me. It's probable that I'd be better off doing it the other way.
I have yet to see if I can actually convince myself to let that happen, of course.
I found a wonderfully inspiring thread in the NaNo forums yesterday, discussing how people have let their plots and their characters create themselves rather than trying to force them. I find this particularly inspiring because that's something I have a hard time with. I have a tendency to plot madly, carefully design my characters, and then force both to stay that way rather than letting them surprise me. It's probable that I'd be better off doing it the other way.
I have yet to see if I can actually convince myself to let that happen, of course.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Day Three
Day Three of NaNo. (If you read the timestamp on the post, it claims that today is Tuesday. I disagree. For me it's still Monday, and therefore day 3).
5,123 words by the 12:04am. I really wish I had posted them five minutes earlier to the NaNo website, because now they appear in the awesome little graph thing as having been written on Tuesday and not Monday. The problem with that is that it now appears that I wrote nothing on Monday, and this is certainly not the case. In fact I wrote 1,614 words today.
Unfortunately, it's now time to go have a talk with my neighbor, who seems to think it's a good idea to play her crappy music at full volume at almost 1am.
5,123 words by the 12:04am. I really wish I had posted them five minutes earlier to the NaNo website, because now they appear in the awesome little graph thing as having been written on Tuesday and not Monday. The problem with that is that it now appears that I wrote nothing on Monday, and this is certainly not the case. In fact I wrote 1,614 words today.
Unfortunately, it's now time to go have a talk with my neighbor, who seems to think it's a good idea to play her crappy music at full volume at almost 1am.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Let The Chaos Begin
It's November 1st. Most of you are probably saying, "So?" That means one thing for me, though: NaNoWriMo. I'm pretty sure I've mentioned this recently, so I won't go into the background again. But today it has officially begun!
Novel is working-titled Retribution, but I don't like that very much, and hopefully I will come up with something better soon.
Today's wordcount: 1,702.
I kept a blog last year specifically devoted to NaNo, and I may resurrect it. If I decide to do so, I'll post the link here so you can follow.
Novel is working-titled Retribution, but I don't like that very much, and hopefully I will come up with something better soon.
Today's wordcount: 1,702.
I kept a blog last year specifically devoted to NaNo, and I may resurrect it. If I decide to do so, I'll post the link here so you can follow.
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