In June I joined Novel90, a challenge put out by AutoCrit. The objective is to outline a novel in June, draft it in July, and edit in August. The closer we get to August, the more frantic my pace has become. The outlining process went fast, but I have a confession here. I outline from a draft 0. This means I write the story done without worrying about grammar, chapters, even point of view. The objective is to get the…
Nancy rubbed baby oil into her bronzed skin and reclined on a towel. The air was alive with screeching gulls, mingled with laughter from children on school holidays paddling in the sea. A shadow blocked the sun, and she peered over plastic sunnies at a constable. His blue woolen jacket looked stifling in the blistering January heat. He produced a photograph, its edges bent, of three smiling children. “Seen them?” “No.” He trudged on, and Nancy scurried to join the…
1. The formica table which sat below the window that was far too high on the wall. Or maybe I was so much shorter, and it seemed abnormally high to me. The table was always full of projects, papers, coupons, and bowls. The deseeding of figs for her sister, the coupons to give away. There was nothing particularly special or beautiful about the white and black table, but I remember how we sat in the battered chairs and discussed many…
I’m caught a little off guard as I sit down to write today. I’ve been a jumble of nerves for a few days now, and I can’t quite put my finger on why. It happens now and again, be it from excitement or something else, I’m never sure. It was magnified when I sat down to write this, and noticed that while I had the rest of November mapped out with what I was going to share here, I’d failed…