NaNoWriMo

I am currently attempting to NaNo, but it seems like today is the one where everyone wants to have a conversation with me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

What is NaNoWriMo? Well, it means National Novel Writing Month, and it lasts all through November. Basically, everyone spends all of November trying to write a 50,000 word novel from scratch. The main purpose is to get a story done.

If you’re interested, check out NaNoWriMo at http://nanowrimo.org.

* * *

FLORENTINE: “This right here–what you’re doing now–it’s the explanation for why you can’t get a girlfriend.”

SCOTT: “What?”

FLORENTINE: “You’re trying to explain your game and nobody cares. Yet you continue to ramble on. I have no interest in your game, dude.”

SCOTT: “It would have been polite to at least pretend to listen.”

FLORENTINE: “No, no it wouldn’t. The best thing for you is a little honesty. Lying to you isn’t doing you any favors. I’m not your momma. I don’t have to pretend to care about your game. We have different interests. End of story.”

CHARLIE: “What’s going on in here? Why does he look like he’s about to cry?”

RICKETS: “Oh, Loren is just laying some painful honesty down on Scott. It was pretty brutal.”

FLORENTINE: “But it had to happen. I could *feel* myself getting all passive aggressive. No thank you.”

CHARLIE: “Well… Uh, I was going to ask if you all wanted to go to a ballgame?”

SCOTT: “Totally. Get me out of here, dude.”

FLORENTINE: “We can hear you. You’re like right there.”

RICKETS: “Okay, down girl. Sorry guys. She’s like a bear–get her riled up and it takes her a while to put the teeth away. Thanks for the invite. Maybe next time.”

CHARLIE: “Right-oh. Come on Scott. I’ll buy you a hotdog.”

SCOTT: “With extra relish?”

CHARLIE: “Sure. Whatever you like.”

Ugh, it’s the middle of the night and I got up and ate a big bowl of cold spaghetti. Now my stomach is feeling all roly-poly “I think I’m going to be sick”-oly. I’m starting to feel tired again and I’ll go back to bed in a moment, but until then I’ve been planning out my NaNoWriMo.

I know, right? It’s practically the middle of the month and I’m just starting my story. But it’s actually the third story that I’ve started for NaNo, but it’s the only one I don’t think I’m going to discard. Those other ones left me feeling doubtful, this one makes me feel hopeful. It’s called “Freeform Jazz” because I’m not-so secretly a weirdo.

The rough start:

Jazz – real name: James Leopold. He was nicknamed Jazz because that’s what his parents were listening to when he was conceived. It’s a horrifying story he really didn’t want to know about, but it wasn’t something he could forget. Not when they insisted on listening to jazz music every year around his birthday and got all moon-eyed toward each other. It was disgusting.

But you never have to worry about it again, he thought. You’re never going to catch them being all kissy faced and sweaty-rumpled. You’re never going to see them ever again.

“Are you all right, son? Is there someone I can call?”

Jazz blinked and looked at the man that had stopped next to his perch on the stone planter. “What?”

There was infinite patience in the brown eyes that looked at him, a sad understanding that made Jazz want to slap the guy just because he could. “Would you like me to call someone for you?” the man asked.

“Why?” Jazz asked, cocking his head.

“Because you’re crying.”

The man pointed and Jazz realized that it was true. Tears were streaming down his cheeks and he hadn’t even noticed them start. He scrubbed at his face with his sleeve and thought that he was supposed to be embarrassed. Really, he was just tired. Exhausted in a way that made even breathing seem too hard to take.

“I’m … I’m all right,” he said. “You don’t have to call anyone. I’ll be fine.”

The man didn’t look like he believed him, but gave him a nod anyway before heading toward the stone steps. He had a black cane that went with the limp in his left leg. Jazz wondered what had happened to him.

Maybe you just met the real life John Watson, he thought. A smile tugged at his lips, but it didn’t last long. Not when he couldn’t seem to stop the helpless tears that kept escaping his eyes as he tried not to think about his parents. His tragically dead parents.

Jazz mopped at his face and forced himself to his feet when what he really wanted to do was hug his knees to his chest and just break down. But how lame would that be? A nineteen year old weeping in front of the public library because he didn’t know what else to do.

He hated feeling so helpless.

Don’t tell anyone at Wattpad, but I’ve decided that it’s the origin story of GlenDal (from Heroes & Villains). Everyone knows I’m a big Sailor Moon fan, plus there’s that song from AMVHell 5: “If I were a girl, even just for a day, I’d roll out of bed in the morning and wonder what just happened to me.” The story is practically writing itself. I even came up with a little Barbie joke that I’m going to throw in.

I am really excited about NaNoWriMo. I hope you are too ^_^

NaNoWriMo seems to be going well 🙂 I’m actually pretty happy with what I’ve written so far and the story is coming together at a good pace. I’m very pleased.

I keep checking on Smashwords to see if anyone has downloaded samples of my NaNo and I would really like to see what people think of it so far, but that’s just one of those things. Reviews come when reviews come.

EXCERPT —

Nicholas woke with a groan. “Stop shaking me, you’ll give me the syndrome.”

“You’re not a baby,” Christian sounded amused, “so get up before I pour water on you.”

Knowing that there was no way Christian was going to let it go, Nicholas forced himself to sit up. His hair felt crazy around his head and his eyes were so dry and sore that he had to rub them until he could see clearly. “Why do you have to do this to me?”

“Because your brother made me promise to get you up so you could arrange our lunch with that guy from last night,” Christian said patiently. He knew that Nicholas was not at his best just after waking up.

“What are you talking about?” Nicholas threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, his hand going out to catch himself on the hotel nightstand before he went over. He yawned hugely and stretched his spine until it made the unpleasant cracking sounds Christian always professed to hate.

“You told that David guy that you would let him take you to lunch, remember?” Christian followed him into the bathroom and unscrewed the lid of a water bottle while Nicholas urinated. “Frankie said to make sure you called the guy.”

Nicholas sighed and flushed the toilet. “Do you have anything for my head?”

“Of course.” Christian filled a water glass and shook two Advil out of a small bottle. “Wash your hands,” he ordered, then preceded to ignore Nicholas’ roll of the eyes and turned on the tap for him.

“Yes, master.” Nicholas quickly washed his hands, then reached for his toothbrush. He couldn’t even manage to drink plain water with the horrible taste in his mouth. He’d always been finicky.

Christian was ever patient and had the water and pills held out toward him before he lowered the towel from his face. “Swallow these and drink all the water. I don’t know why you have to get so wasted whenever we go anywhere.”

“Because it makes me feel special.” Nicholas gave his best dipshit smirk and reached for the pills. “You’re such a dear.”

“Darling, you are a real bitch in the morning,” Christian said. He watched to make sure Nicholas really swallowed the analgesics, then pressed the water on him. “At least you’re getting some color back in your cheeks. We’ll eat some breakfast, then you can take a shower and we’ll go.”

“Why do you always have to push me around?” Nicholas gave him a quick shoulder bump as he took the glass in his hand and began drinking the water. “I’m not a little kid, you know.”

“Of course you’re not.” Christian gave him a catlike look of amusement. He was dressed in black slacks and a bright blue sweater. His black hair was neatly combed and he smelled like clean skin and cologne.

Nicholas huffed a breath and thunked the glass down on the counter. He was dressed in his pajamas, his hair was a mess, and he felt absolutely ruined from the night before, and Christian looked like he’d stepped out of a magazine. It just wasn’t fair.

“What?” Christian asked, quirking a brow.

“Nothing,” Nicholas said hurriedly, then felt a twinge of guilt go through him and he couldn’t even say why. He thought maybe he should tell Christian that he was having some of his weird moods again, but then Christian would get all paranoid and they were only going to be in Seattle for a few weeks before they went back to Malibu. Everything was going to be all right and he could maintain for a little while.

“Let’s get some food,” he said, pushing himself so he could be the first one out of the bathroom. Those bright lights would make it easier for Christian to read his face and there wasn’t anyone on the world that knew him better. One good look and it would be over.

“I’ve already called for room service and it should be here…” There was a knock at the door and Christian gave a pleased sounded grunt. “Right on time. You sit at the table.”

Nicholas mock-grumbled as he settled down on one of the chairs at the round table. He tried to flatten his hair with his hands, then gave it up as a lost cause even before Christian let the stiffly uniformed girl in with her service cart of covered dishes.

Pulling his feet up on the chair in front of him, he wrapped his arms around his legs and leaned his cheek against his knees. He watched Christian’s face as he watched the girl arrange the food on the table–scrambled eggs, turkey sausage, Belgian waffles, a whole platter of sliced fruit, orange juice, and coffee–he was very focused on the task.

Most of the time it was great that Christian cared about him so much. It was comforting and made him feel safer than he ever had before in his life. But then there were the times when Christian sacrificed something from his own life to make Nicholas happy and it was too much.

It hadn’t taken Nicholas long to realize that Christian seemed to really get something out of making him happy. There would be a glow about him and he’d have this satisfied smile and he didn’t seem to care what he had to do to give Nicholas whatever he thought he wanted. It was nice to be fawned over a bit and he loved that Christian cared that much about him.

But there were some times when Christian went overboard. He had no problem rearranging his schedule at the tip of a hat if it had something to do with Nicholas, and because of that he’d managed to offend some very important people. He’d lost out on several multi-million dollar deals and not given them a moment’s thought. And when Nicholas had found out what was going on… he’d been horrified to think that he’d been abusing Christian’s kindness and he was a terrible friend.

So he’d been careful about the things he asked for and he kept a copy of Christian’s schedule overlapping his on his phone. He was trying really hard to be responsible and he knew their Seattle trip was anything but a vacation and whatever Chirstian was doing was incredibly important for the future of DeLongeria Enterprises.

His bit of crazy was going to have to take a back burner to Christian’s schedule. Nicholas had made a promise to himself that he would maintain his control this whole trip. He could wait to fall apart when they got home and Christian could call the Doc.

Christian signed the receipt with a flourish, making sure to write in a very generous tip, then watched to make sure the girl and her cart completely left the suite. He was paranoid about that kind of thing, though he’d never said why.

Nicholas grabbed his fork and reached out to begin poking food onto his plate. He was feeling much better than he had when he’d woken up, but that didn’t really mean a whole lot. He still felt as though his head was stuffed full of straw.

“Here, stop, let me do that.” Christian gently pushed his fork out of the way and picked up Nicholas’ plate. He had an easy kind of grace as he used the serving spoons and tongs Nicholas had ignored. “You’re like a savage or something. If I left it up to you, you’d stab things with sticks and cook them over a fire. Or half-cook them knowing you and your impatience.”

Nicholas rolled his eyes and sucked on the tines of his fork. The smell of the food was making his stomach rumble, which was weird because he hadn’t even felt hungry before. “You nag so much I think I can hear your voice in my head even when you’re not there.”

“Good,” Christian set the plate down in front of Nicholas, “hopefully the me in your head at least tries to keep you out of trouble. I could use the support of someone that knows just how wily you can be.”

“Whatever.” Nicholas slid his feet back on the floor, curling his toes against the morning chill. He used his butter knife to first slather his waffle with strawberry jam, then quickly cut it into bite-sized pieces, then shrugged and cut his sausage up too.

Christian prepared two cups of coffee, sliding Nicholas’ across to him first. He always knew just the right amount of sugar and cream to mix in and Nicholas didn’t hesitate to give him a heartfelt “Thank you” before taking the first sip. He already felt as though he was being brought back to life by the delicious brew.

“Eat your breakfast and we’ll call that guy,” Nicholas said, pointing his fork rudely.

“You’re a real class act.” Christian shook his head fondly, but quickly swirled some maple syrup on his own waffle before sitting down to eat. “He better take us to a nice place.”

“You’re a snob.” Nicholas speared a cut strawberry and popped it into his mouth. “I’m the one that will be deciding whether I want to date the guy. Besides, there’s no way you’d let me live in a dirty hovel raising barefoot children, is there?” He raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

Christian’s nostrils flared. “Of course not. Just because you always feel like you need to sacrifice yourself for the good of other people, that doesn’t mean I’d ever let that happen to you.”

Nicholas hid a smile and went about the business of eating. “I’ll call the guy. We can find out if he’s good enough to date me.”

“You don’t have to put it like that,” Christian said. “At least don’t say it like that, especially if we’re in public.”

“It’s just the two of us here right now. Get over it.”

/EXCERPT

I was writing like crazy mad for the last two days and I did it. I didn’t think I was going to manage it, but I hit my 50,000.

I had to skip over a chapter or two, so now I have to go back and add them in, but oh my God, how crazy is that?

As a reward, I’m buying Scrivener for myself and I need to get a microphone so I can use Dragon. But how completely awesome.