NaNoWriMo 2008

[Autumn]

I randomly decided to make this some really weird real-life parallel. :o

“We’re climbing now?” asked Crystal.
Thunder glanced at her. “Yes!” she screeched for the third time.
“We can’t stop and rest for the night?” asked Crystal, her voice cracking.
Thunder sighed. “No, because otherwise 8835 words won’t last a chapter like it usually does.”
Crystal tilted her head to side. “What do you mean?” she asked.
Thunder smiled. “See, I’m writing all this down to document it for Galaxy-knows-what, and I need 8335 words by the end of today, and it must equal a chapter.”
“What are you going to do with this when you’re done writing it?”
“Publish it as a scroll, I guess - a documentary of my life after the trouble with Freeze started and everything that goes with it.”
“But how’d you know your life was going to have anything cool like this in it?”
Thunder stared at her for a second. “I didn’t. I thought this might all be cool, so I wrote it down.”
“How many words are you going for?” Crystal tried to grab the scroll from Thunder, but, embarrassed, Thunder snatched it away from her.
“Fifty thousand,” Thunder replied quietly. “Now will you stop asking questions and just climb the mountain so I can write about it?”

 

[Murkrowfeather]

No, I won't be doing it. I'm too young. D:

 

[Sandstone-Shadow]

=O Don't let your age stop you! It doesn't matter if you don't finish; all that matters is the effort you pour into your story to try to complete it. ^^

Anyway, my current total is 7376 words. =D ...According to a calendar I found, I need to reach 8333 to stay on schedule... it should be do-able, if I start on my homework sometime soon.

As far as writing stories out of order, I used to do this a lot. Most of what I've written lately are random scenes that I thought of writing. For me, this isn't working. I write too many random scenes, and then feel like I need to do something with them. Most of the scenes don't even have a plot. For my own writing, starting at the beginning (and having a couple cool scenes planned for later) seems to work better. <3

 

[Amaguq]

Kind of a random question, but do you capitalize the word Pokéball? I have it capitalized and I was just wondering?

You're not going to make me post an excerpt for every post are you, Tailsy?

 

[Phoenixsong]

Officially it's actually "Poké Ball", but no one really cares. Most people write "Pokéball" or, if you're one of the people who treats Pokémon words like normal words instead of proper, trademarked nouns (the way you don't capitalize "dog" or "stick"), "pokéball", "poké ball", etc..

Whatever you want, basically.

 

[Blaziking the God General]

V It is horrifyingly bad written, I know.

When she opened her eyes again, there were suddenly hundreds of animals surrounding her. They weren’t just one kind of animal, there were many kinds; from robins to lions. They were all staring at her. She stared back at them.

And Artia noticed something.

There was a pleading look in all of their eyes, as if they wanted, or needed Artia to do something. They said nothing. There was absolute silence.

“W-w-what do you want from me?” Artia asked nervously. The animals continued to look at her pleadingly. “What do you want?” Artia asked, more fear in her voice, but she was able to keep her voice steadily. Suddenly, all of the animals around her began to scream in pain. Artia looked around her. The animals were visibly in pain. The screaming was louder than anything she had ever heard before. It lasted for what seemed like hours. It would not stop. Artia looked at the animals in sorrow, wishing she could do something, occasionally asking them if they needed her to do something. Then, the animals froze. They didn’t move. Not to breathe, not to blink, nothing. Suddenly, Artia heard the sound of hundreds of vases shattering. All around her, the animals were exploding.

But there was no blood or gore; instead, the animals were exploding into shards of glass. Artia shut her eyes and put her arms over her head. Minutes later, she opened her eyes again. All around her, the ground was covered with glass. Artia looked at her hands, as if expecting herself to suddenly explode into shards of glass.

 

[Tailsy]

Kind of a random question, but do you capitalize the word Pokéball? I have it capitalized and I was just wondering?

You're not going to make me post an excerpt for every post are you, Tailsy?

IF YOU INVOKE MY WRATH YOU WILL.

I'm slowing down and I don't know whyyyy. ;~;

 

[___urnamz2longfixit___]

Okay, I started today, which means I'm six days late. So far, I've written 1,542 words and I plan to keep writing for the next eight hours. If all goes well, I'll hit ten thousand when I'm finished today. It's quite fun, writing about my favourite fictional universe.

Just warning you before you read the excerpt; it's somewhat gruesome and could scar your imagination for life. Read at your own peril.

It happens too quickly for my liking.

The noise is deafening. Probably enough to burst some eardrums. Magic protects me. I can feel it rushing through my veins and blood. Then the attack begins. I cry a warning as the entire main entrance is smashed forward, sending splinters and wood all over the place. The elderly lady who had been in front of me was hit by the splinters in the face. I watch her fall to the ground, scratching her bloody face and screeching. I might be able to save her. I might be, depending on how strong the demon is.

Now that the main entrance (basically a wooden double door) has been destroyed, dust is rising and I manage to get my first glimpse at my foe. It’s a demon. It has a body in the shape of a wolf, except it has green liquid oozing out of it in various holes. I don’t let the sight effect me. The only reasons demons but on these appearances is to scare their enemies. It doesn’t look to strong and killing it is the least of my concerns. The thing I’m worried about is who summoned it to this world and why I didn’t detect the magic in the air before this. A rogue mage is on the loose. Maybe I can force the demon to tell me his/her whereabouts. I watch, sickly fascinated, as the demon hops on its next foe. A young man, wearing a suit. He drops his suitcase, screams and jumps to the floor. Unfortunately for him, his attempts to avoid the demon are unsuccessful. The demon’s upon his in an instant and rips his face off. Blood spurts everywhere as the demon goes in for a little feast.

It’s only now that the crowd of people understand what’s happening. At first, they were more shocked than afraid. Now, realisation and reality have hit them and panic is sweeping over them. They’re screaming, running for their lives. Going to whatever exits they can. I know that the fastest ones will survive and will be able to leave the bank. The slower ones will be left as the demon’s prey, unless I can stop it in its tracks. I’ve seen all of this before. Nothing changes. According to my friends, this is the way a demon attack has always been and will always be like. Confusion, panic, chaos - everywhere.

Reading over that, it's pretty bad. I can't write properly unless I can take it at a slow, steady pace.

 

[Capitain Jay]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]He was alone.[/FONT]


[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]That was really to be expected, seeing as he asked everyone to not come in his tent for the next three hours. That was two and a half hours ago. And he only just realised how lonely it was. Oh well, he thought, I might as well troop on. He moved one arm, with muscles the size of underweight chickens, so that another rune was carved into the stone tablet with his knife. Finally, it was complete. He leant in close and blew away the stone chippings. A couple hit him in the face, but compared to the armache he was suffering from, that really didn't hurt.[/FONT]


[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]His day plan sat in front of him.[/FONT]

still at a low amount of words so um yeah. I think I'll probably spend the weekends just smashing on the keyboard hoping words will come out so yeah. ALSO um is it ok to include the mountains of showaddywaddy or should I change the name?

 

[Amaguq]

Wow, stupid weather. Because it is supposed to get really cold in the next two days, I have to spend quality time that I could be using to actually get to the number of words I should. I have to go outside and rake all of the leaves and bag them. OMG, I hate leaves...

 

[Involuntary Twitch]

Twitch hits more obstacles, but she doesn't let silly things like that stop her.

...So she was writing, right? And she leaned my feet on the CPU, because it's down there. Um. One particularly careless jolt, and the monitor goes black and starts going all BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. Twitch calls her dad and whines on the phone to him for a little while, that she was already behind on her novel and just lost about 300 words, not to mention whatever else she had open at the time. (Mother 3 *tear*) After several failed tries to restart the computer, Twitch got a better idea.

Going upstairs, she got out the iBook and opened up Gmail. She then started typing the story in an Email to herself, continuing approximately from where she left off before. She complimented herself on how resourceful she is, but was still humbled by the fact that she was yet to catch up to the daily average (9,667 or so, wasn't it?) and still hadn't hit even her daily limit yet. So she shouldn't be wasting her time by complaining about it on forums anyway.

Ironically, her story is in first person. Twitch doesn't know why she decided to post in third.

Excerpt of the now:

Confident that I was in a good enough position to ask her, I popped the fateful question:
"Hey, mom? I have something to ask you..." I said, sounding as much like a sweet little girl asking for her first favor in months as I could.

"Yeah, sweetie?" she said as she twisted open the cap on the olive oil container and sloshed it into the pan. "I'm busy now, so better make it quick."

"Um..." I said, determined to make it as not-quick as I could, "What would you feel about spending the night with just Rick? I mean, without me?" She froze in her cooking, and the pan quickly filled with olive oil. She hastily put the cap back on and moved the pan over to the sink to pour out the excess oil.

"Why couldn't you tell me this earliah, Sophie?" she said, clanging the pan down on the stove and switching the heat on. "This changes a lot of plans! I was gonna cook for three. Where're yah goin' to tha's so important?" Despite her reaction, I felt that this was a good sign-- she hadn't said no right off the bat.

"It's a party, mom. And it's at seven," I glanced up at the clock as I said this, noting that it was six fifteen already. Huh.

"What saht of party?" she asked, opening the fridge to extract some tortillas.

"N-not any sort of party that I would make you guilty about me for going," I said hastily. "And I won't need a ride either. It's at Gioggio's Pizzeria-- you know, that place on Pier 43? I can walk there, no sweat." In fact, I had already today. But I didn't say that.

"Huh. Didn't think yah were the type to go to parties. Thought you hated all the loud music and sweet foods," she said, dropping the tortilla into the sizzling oil. "Is there any othah particulah reason yer goin'?" Crap. Oh well, here goes...

"Well, see, mom... I was asked there. On a date." With Claude, which was what I also didn't tell her. I didn't talk to her about him too often, so I'm not sure she knew that I still liked him. But I don't think she liked him much more than Susan did.

"Now there's a surprise," she said, raising her eyebrows as she flipped the tortilla. "Did you ask him, or was it the other way around?"

"He, um, asked me," I said. "If I had known about the party beforehand, I would have told you earlier."

"Seems fair enough," she said, digging underneath the fried tortilla and deftly depositing it onto a plate. "Spread some salsa on that and then run upstairs and change. And for goodness' sakes, do something about yah hair!" My heart soared.

"Thanks, mom!" I cried jubilantly, and went to hug her but she held me back, saying "hey, hey, I'm cookin' heah."

 

[Ivy Newton]

I am so doing it. Mine's going to suck though. I'm just doing 10,000 words with the YWP NaNoWriMo, and my entire story is based off of that dare machine thing they have on the front page. XD.

Here's what I have so far:

Everything changed that fateful day.
I was downstairs, staring at the jello jiggling back and forth. Lime jello, my favorite. It was so captivating, I just couldn’t look away. I heard someone coming down the stairs behind me, and they walked up directly behind me.
“Hey twerp!” she yelled in my face. My sister, of course. “What’re you doin’?”
“Look at this jello, sis,” I say, still not looking away.
“Yeah, what’s so special about it?”
“Just look at it.”
“You know Jeremy, sometimes I wonder what’s going on in that head of yours.” With that, she grabbed my shirt collar and jerked me back, grabbing a fork and digging into the jello. Without even thinking, I opened the fridge, grabbing the bucket of tangerine juice my parents keep in there for who-knows-what reason, and chucked it onto my sister.
She just stood there for a second, the tangerine juice dripping down her blond hair, making a small puddle on the floor below. Then she yelled “You’re dead, Jeremy!” before running right at me.
I ran outside, to where my younger sister and her three friends were talking still in their ballerina outfits, just returned from dance class.

Already worked in 2 1/2 dares.

 

[Tailsy]

Oooh let's do dares! :33 CAN WE DO DARES TOO?

SOMEBODY GIVE ME ONE
OR I'LL GIVE YOU ONE

 

[Capitain Jay]

tailsy I dare you to work in Showaddywaddy. I don't care how, I don't care where, I don't care when, I just want it in thar.

also I let a teacher at my school read my story so far and she lieks it and um yeah. woohoo?

 

[Dragon]

see my sig. Anyways, its my first year, so we'll see how it goes.

 

[Tailsy]

tailsy I dare you to work in Showaddywaddy. I don't care how, I don't care where, I don't care when, I just want it in thar.

also I let a teacher at my school read my story so far and she lieks it and um yeah. woohoo?

“Oh, before you decide you're safe here, I'd advise you to say nothing to my dad. At all,” Anthony said, turning his head slightly to look at the confused look crossing Skye's face. He waited for an answer as he scrabbled about in his pockets in search for his effing house keys (the keyring was utterly useless; the spokes of the Eiffel Tower just got caught on every piece of clothing he owned, and fuck if he was wearing Spandex just to keep his key under control and to not allow it to bury itself a little nest of its own inside his coat pocket because seriously, ew).

“I really don't think he's going to eat my face off, but thanks for the warning,” Skye scratched at the back of his neck and didn't look entirely convinced by Anthony's earlier stories about that one time he dad had gotten himself banned from a supermarket after a long, long series of bizarre stunts he had pulled off in there for no seemingly apparent reason, other than “it seemed like fun at the time!”. “And your key's in your back pocket.”

“Really?” And so it was. Amazing! “How did you know?”

Skye chewed his lip and looked slightly uncomfortable at this question (for some reason Anthony was unable to pick out). “Because it wasn't in your front pockets and where else would you have put it, genius?”

Anthony thought about this for a moment, then nodded wisely as he retrieved his key from the depths of his pocket. It made sense. “I guess so.”

The key's teeth ground against the inner workings of the lock and the door clicked open, Anthony steeling himself for the inevitable something going to smash him in the stomach. He felt Skye step in carefully behind him; turning around he rolled his eyes at the other boy dithering over whether to shut the door or not (he could see the cogs turning! “But it's rude to close other people's doors! IT'S COLD! But but but what if he hits me? IT'S FUCKING COLD.”). He pushed it shut and then he heard it.

“STANDIN' ON THE CORNER IN MY NEW BLUE JEANS~”

He turned to Skye who just stared back at him. “... He's not mine?”

“DREAMIN' 'BOUT THE GIRL IN MY LIMOUSINE~”

“... Well, he definitely doesn't act anything like you. Assuming you don't like singing Showaddyaddy covers.”

“What?” Anthony cocked his head, his eyebrows raising as he tried to recall his woefully limited knowledge of obscure British (Scottish?) pop culture. Uhm...

“This is not a waste of time, you are a time lord! Have you ever given money to the Labour Party?!”

Long days ahead, long days indeed.

Swoosh!

[also if you get the quote at the end, you are amazing.]

 

[Capitain Jay]

it's from mock the week. am I amazing yet?

also WHYYYYY am I not writing even though I'm like so overdrawn I could've caused the current financial crisis singlehandedly if this was money and not words

also um I dare whoever decides to take up this dare to turn one of their character into a scientologist I can't do it myself due to writing a novel set in viking times

maybe the setting is causing the procrastination

 

[Ivy Newton]

I dare someone to make one of their characters get all their advice from fortune cookies!

 

[Involuntary Twitch]

My Nanobar is a lying little snitch. << I'm really at 11500 or so, and I'm wondering, what should I be at on the seventh day of the thirty-day challenge? I'm over a fifth of the way there, which is a good feeling~ (until you realize that 4/5ths is a heckuva lot more).

Dares are for wusses. Wait, that didn't work out quite right. Whatever; I don't need to forward my story by such twists of the pen. I'm doing pretty fine on my own. (/ego)

 

[surskitty]

The Many Adventures of ASDFJKL;

One day, there was this guy.

He was known as Calculated Keyboard Smash. His best friends called him Keyboard, or at least they would if he had any friends. It was very sad, really. He lived a long and unhappy life before dying alone and unloved.

That is all.