So, I've given up on the weekly thirds day, not because I don't love it, because I totally do, but it makes me feel really, really, really, conceded. I don't like that feeling. So I may burst into random third personness, you will have to deal. So today whilst consuming a fortune cookie, my fortune was "Minds are like parachutes, they only function when open." Now I really like fortunes, I keep the ones I really like, and the ones that I find ironic. Awhile ago my little sister got one about writing a novel, and I tried to grab it so I could post about the irony because my sister does not like creative writing, or even research writing. But alas it was disposed of before I could get my hands on it. Sad days.
I'm begin featured in my school paper, as the President of our writers club they interviewed me and one of my pieces is going to be featured in it! So exciting! Now I have no idea when this thing is going to get published, last year we only had about four editions of our paper, and one came out early October so I may have to wait till like January, but I really don't care because it is just so exciting!
So I"m still working on my NaNo story, little by little, and trying to work on He's With Me and I'll admit, yes my focus is split over a couple more stories. I'm trying to focus but I write when the ideas pop into my head, and well High School does not allot for much time to write. High School hates me, hates me, hates me. And the feeling may just be mutual. Ick.
My final word count for NaNoWriMo was about 20,005. Nowhere near 50,000 but a nice chunk, if I do say so myself.
Oh, but I have a quote from one of my WIP of Untitled Proportions, a quote I rather like, it is a part of a dream sequence/old memory then after he wakes up:
"Declan looked down at his hands, they were covered in her blood; the crimson substance was dripping off his fingers. The force that had kept his reason for living alive soaked his clothes, dampened his skin and grew cold on his fingers. He’d let her die. He’d failed. But worst of all he’d broken his promise.
“ASHLYN!” Declan jerked awake his scream echoing through the prison cell. He glanced down at his shaking hands expecting the blood that had dampened them five years ago to still be there, to have sunken into his skin, permanently dying it. As a reminder of his broken promises a reminder of how he’d failed. A reminder that she was dead. In denial he began to look for his dog tags, his hands frantically gasping at his throat as he searched for them. But they weren’t there they hadn’t been there in five years, because she had been wearing them when she died."
So I like it, and I actually turned it in as a creative writing English assignment...hehe :P.
And that's it for today, I'm not very witty when it comes to posting like topics and stuff, so I'm going to have to work on it. Really work at it, it is going to take some time. Until then onward to my scribblings and illegible words in my notebook.