NaNoWriMo, day 1 (part 1)
I've decided not to post my NaNoWriMo publicly. I'll be posting friends only to a specific list of people, which for right now is the people who've specifically said they're curious to read what I'm writing. If I ever do anything with this writing in terms of publishing or even self-publishing, having it posted publicly for all the internet to see would be a silly thing to do.
However, here's an excerpt. Next post will have the full first day of writing.
Anyone who I don't add to the full NaNoWriMo posts who wants to give it a read, let me know. I'll post as I continue to write.
The formatting is ugly, there are spelling mistakes and grammar mistakes, I know this and I'm posting anyways. Editing happens in December. November is for writing.
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I had an adrenaline valley, full of hollow-eyed bawling and knowing that in my profound loneliness, solitary on a suburban freeway well after midnight on a god damn Thursday, I knew even if I turned around and went back to that place there would be no home anymore.
In my 4 hours developers had purchased it, renovated out all of the warmth, replaced whatever pathetic fragments were left over of a woman I loved with harshness and fights. No love. No forgiveness. Just pain. The kind of pain where you see an old couple arguing on the streets. The kind where I see them fighting, layer after layer of history peeling away at the soft coverings, laying bone bare, showers of vulnerable blood in the street on display. Somewhere I hope that they go home, reconcile, agree that they are in love - I know that's romantic fiction. Couples that fight in public fight in private. Laying your lover's soul bare and lashing them to blood and bone in public is the kind of ugliness that curls itself around you intestines and calls it home. Its the kind if sin that poisons you over and over again but never kills you., and only someone you love can cut out your heart like that without killing you. That's what I think of when old couples argue on the street - I know they live their lives there. It can't stay public without marching into the bedroom. That's what I think of when I see a young couple in the street arguing. I say to them quietly in my mind, God help you, when you are older they'll just know you better... they'll just get better at hitting you in a place where it hurts, hitting you where you can't just ignore it, can't just let it slide.
Drive away, I say in my head. 4 hours is enough to get so far away that a lifetime of walking will never take you back. 4 hours is enough time to decide never to go home again.
However, here's an excerpt. Next post will have the full first day of writing.
Anyone who I don't add to the full NaNoWriMo posts who wants to give it a read, let me know. I'll post as I continue to write.
The formatting is ugly, there are spelling mistakes and grammar mistakes, I know this and I'm posting anyways. Editing happens in December. November is for writing.
=========================================
I had an adrenaline valley, full of hollow-eyed bawling and knowing that in my profound loneliness, solitary on a suburban freeway well after midnight on a god damn Thursday, I knew even if I turned around and went back to that place there would be no home anymore.
In my 4 hours developers had purchased it, renovated out all of the warmth, replaced whatever pathetic fragments were left over of a woman I loved with harshness and fights. No love. No forgiveness. Just pain. The kind of pain where you see an old couple arguing on the streets. The kind where I see them fighting, layer after layer of history peeling away at the soft coverings, laying bone bare, showers of vulnerable blood in the street on display. Somewhere I hope that they go home, reconcile, agree that they are in love - I know that's romantic fiction. Couples that fight in public fight in private. Laying your lover's soul bare and lashing them to blood and bone in public is the kind of ugliness that curls itself around you intestines and calls it home. Its the kind if sin that poisons you over and over again but never kills you., and only someone you love can cut out your heart like that without killing you. That's what I think of when old couples argue on the street - I know they live their lives there. It can't stay public without marching into the bedroom. That's what I think of when I see a young couple in the street arguing. I say to them quietly in my mind, God help you, when you are older they'll just know you better... they'll just get better at hitting you in a place where it hurts, hitting you where you can't just ignore it, can't just let it slide.
Drive away, I say in my head. 4 hours is enough to get so far away that a lifetime of walking will never take you back. 4 hours is enough time to decide never to go home again.