NaNoWriMo: Day Seven
I've got some kind of head cold and it's hard to concentrate on anything, but I managed to finish my ldws drabbles and work some on NaNo. Not too thrilled with my writing at the moment, but meh. It's better than none at all.
Word Count: 2207
Total Word Count: 11860
Hours Spent Writing: No idea.
Last Line Written: “Yeah. Right. So what’s this really about?”
Morale (from 1-10): 4. Being sick is no fun. At all. Ugh.
Things I Did Well Today: Got a few more scenes written when I wasn't sleeping.
Things I Didn't Do So Well: Insults. I think my dialogue insults could use some work. I don't feel up to par.
General Thoughts: It's coming along fairly well. Just need to decide how I'm going to introduce the girls. And soon.
Excerpt:
The displacement of being unable to control his movements followed Madoc throughout the day. There wasn’t an explanation for it, but it was still there, making his reactions and thoughts and everything in between slower than normal. He frowned for the umpteenth time and then let his expression go blank as he stared listlessly at the cafeteria food he should have been eating.
“You know,” Cassy began, a teasing lilt to her voice, “if you keep staring at your food like that, it might start staring back.”
Erik snorted outright into his drink, one of those zero percent fruit juice drinks that lied and said there was a small percentage even if there wasn’t. Madoc glowered at the both of them, not amused. “I can just feel the love at this table,” he intoned dryly, rising from his seat to go throw his uneaten lunch away. “Be right back.” He noticed Erik and Cassy exchanging worried glances, but pretended he didn’t see a thing. There was no reason to involve them in his troubles.
He bumped into someone on his way to the trash and cringed as his lunch fell from his hands. “Sorry,” he automatically apologized, bending down to clean up what he could. He didn’t expect for that same someone to stoop and help and he glanced toward the person in surprise, a thank you ready on his tongue. The words died in his throat as soon as he caught sight of who it was. “You!”
“We’re doing this again?” Daniel’s eyebrows shot skyward. “Because I seriously think we need a different approach. Maybe ‘hi, how are you?’ If we’re going to keep meeting like this, let’s try to keep it fresh.”
Word Count: 2207
Total Word Count: 11860
Hours Spent Writing: No idea.
Last Line Written: “Yeah. Right. So what’s this really about?”
Morale (from 1-10): 4. Being sick is no fun. At all. Ugh.
Things I Did Well Today: Got a few more scenes written when I wasn't sleeping.
Things I Didn't Do So Well: Insults. I think my dialogue insults could use some work. I don't feel up to par.
General Thoughts: It's coming along fairly well. Just need to decide how I'm going to introduce the girls. And soon.
Excerpt:
The displacement of being unable to control his movements followed Madoc throughout the day. There wasn’t an explanation for it, but it was still there, making his reactions and thoughts and everything in between slower than normal. He frowned for the umpteenth time and then let his expression go blank as he stared listlessly at the cafeteria food he should have been eating.
“You know,” Cassy began, a teasing lilt to her voice, “if you keep staring at your food like that, it might start staring back.”
Erik snorted outright into his drink, one of those zero percent fruit juice drinks that lied and said there was a small percentage even if there wasn’t. Madoc glowered at the both of them, not amused. “I can just feel the love at this table,” he intoned dryly, rising from his seat to go throw his uneaten lunch away. “Be right back.” He noticed Erik and Cassy exchanging worried glances, but pretended he didn’t see a thing. There was no reason to involve them in his troubles.
He bumped into someone on his way to the trash and cringed as his lunch fell from his hands. “Sorry,” he automatically apologized, bending down to clean up what he could. He didn’t expect for that same someone to stoop and help and he glanced toward the person in surprise, a thank you ready on his tongue. The words died in his throat as soon as he caught sight of who it was. “You!”
“We’re doing this again?” Daniel’s eyebrows shot skyward. “Because I seriously think we need a different approach. Maybe ‘hi, how are you?’ If we’re going to keep meeting like this, let’s try to keep it fresh.”