Week two did not go as planned. Didn’t go terrible but… not too well, either. I got sick on the 8th day of November and I’m only just now feeling better… on the 14th.
Day Nine + 10: 0
Yep. More or less, I got nothing these days.
Day Eleven: 1,350
Yay. Words. Eh. Send help. My brain is dead – my cold is making me like a zombie… this isn’t good.
Day Twelve: 530
I’m still dead but hey. Not a terrible number. Better than zero
Day Thirteen: 800
I did not write 800 words today – I added most of them (like… 700 of these words). I’d previously played around with a scene before November and decided I liked it and shoved it into the novel. So, no. My brain’s still dead but at least the words are growing.
Day Fourteen: 2,085
On one hand, my cold is pretty much gone and –
… on the other hand, it’s week two and I’m only at 30,000 words so… I had to write SOMETHING.
Scripture of the Week
Bless the Lord, O my soul. O Lord my God, thou art very great; thou art clothed with honour and majesty. Who coverest thyself with light as with a garment: who stretchest out the heavens like a curtain: Who layeth the beams of his chambers in the waters: who maketh the clouds his chariot: who walketh upon the wings of the wind: Who maketh his angels spirits; his ministers a flaming fire… – Pslams 104:1-4
And give us ears and a heart to listen. Rene’ was tired of asking God for answers but never even hearing Him. She begged, pleaded, and cried – but what did she do to deserve His love or His answers? Nothing. She did nothing. She wanted to do something! Something! Anything! But when it came down to it… Rene’ was afraid. What if she came to it and could do something – but didn’t? What if she didn’t? She hadn’t done anything before. What if she made another mistake? What if she failed?
Sam took his keys from the hook in the foyer. Mr. Clemins was at work, Mrs. Clemins in the bedroom doing bills, and Morgan and Ava were napping in the living room. Morgan would be cooking dinner at around six, and it was 5:30 now; with Morgan’s cooking, Sam wasn’t too guilty about missing dinner. Sam went outside quietly, as not to disturb the sleeping beauties. The only person Sam had to avoid –
“Where ya going?” Derek sat outside on the porch, twirling a basketball on his finger.
Sam grunted. Oops. “Out.” Sam’s hands tightened on his keys as he strode over to the Mustang. Derek stopped twirling the ball, hopping up and following Sam.
“What’s up?” he inquired, voice lowering.
God bless you all and may your November (and NaNo!) continue to be awesome. 🙂
If you’re doing NaNo: are you still kickin’? Let’s talk about YOUR story!