Good Wayne

Monday, November 01, 2004

NaNo Word Count: 1926

Now, I'm thinking of posting excerpts from this monumental piece of crap. I'm not too worried about grammar, punctuation or clarity of English at this point. If I continue to post quotes, hopefully, they won't all be shitariffic, but I ask for a tad bit of leeway, this is, after all, ambush writing.

I will say that some of it's going okay, thus far. I got a chunk of it out that I was quite happy with;

I finally do stir out of bed and move across the open loft with it’s industrial warped glass windows, but they’re hidden by the makeshift shades Samantha put up to keep out the nightlights that pulse and twitch when the sun goes down. Mostly old blankets, some with small holes that are ringed with bare threads, like the sand of the shore disappearing into the sea.

I feel like they’re tiny holes in the side of ship. Trace amounts of light filter in, but it’s the cold that actually flows through those holes, not water. It pools to the ground near the stone and steel walls filling up the room when the heat refuses to work properly.

The whole room is like that. Patches of cold air that slowly swirls in the deeper parts of the room. I can come across it in my bare feet if I’m not careful. Like a stepping in a puddle, it takes me by surprise to feel how cold it can really get over there.

Winter has not been pleasant this year.

But then it took a turn for the worse. Probably because of my complete lack of Plot! that I just futz around with her in the kitchen. I don't want to do any rewrites, but I'm thinking that I really should trash the last two paragraphs and go from there.

I got crap like:

Waiting for the pot to fill, I think about Trojan and his flippy blonde hair at the beach. The wind that day turned him into a television ad model.

All is not well in my brain, as you can see. On the upside, I bought Ray Lynch's Deep Breakfast, a new age album I had about 18 years ago when I was churning out mega-crap, in the real delusion I could be a writer (but at least I wasn't cynical). It had a nice warm fuzzy feeling listening to it while trying to hammer out a few words.

I'm probably just getting a cold.

-----------------------------------
Working Title: sethkyne_blue
Words: 1926
Characters: 1
Plots: -1
Panic Attacks: 0.5

posted by Evil Wayne | 11:20 PM

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