It's almost 2:00 a.m., technically on Day 28. I just reached 40,000 words. I'm going to bed now. *collapses*
Words to Date: 40,096
Words to Go: 9,904
Well I Just Can't Believe This
16 years ago
Friday, November 28, 2008
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Day 26: Still pushing forward
I've been steadily pushing forward and writing as much as I can. Tonight, I've been doing some timed writings and challenges with some of my young wrimo friends.
Legossi gave me a challenge: "I say Mangy has to put a monkey in her story. And the monkey's name is Alowishes the fifty-fifth. And he likes brownies." Here's what I came up with...
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The bartender walked up to Mighty and rubbed a towel over a chrome flagon. He was a moniker, completely covered in a dark brown fur that looked almost black in the dim lighting. “Alowishes the 55th at your service, sir.” His round snout and wide mouth contorted as he spoke, but the light brown eyes set above his muzzle were filled with wisdom.
“Alowishes the 55th?” Mighty asked. “You come from a long line of Alowishes…es.”
The moniker nodded his head solemnly, then set the flagon before Mighty. “What shall it be?”
Mighty thought for a moment. “What is the house special tonight?”
Alowishes leaned forward and raised an eyebrow, turning his forehead into a cascade of wide wrinkles. “The brownies, sir.”
Mighty blinked. “Brownies? Is that a drink?”
“Oh no, sir.” Alowishes straightened up and walked down the length of the bar. He retrieved a pedestal with a transparent shield bubble over it. When he came back, he set the tray in front of Mighty. “Brownies,” he said with absolute reverence.
Mighty peered at the offerings. They were indeed simple chocolate brownies with a dusting of some sort of nut on the top. He shrugged. “A brownie it is. And perhaps a flagon of milk to go with it.”
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More to come!
Words to Date: 33,157
Words to Go: 16,843 (I tell you--that actually looks doable!)
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The bartender walked up to Mighty and rubbed a towel over a chrome flagon. He was a moniker, completely covered in a dark brown fur that looked almost black in the dim lighting. “Alowishes the 55th at your service, sir.” His round snout and wide mouth contorted as he spoke, but the light brown eyes set above his muzzle were filled with wisdom.
“Alowishes the 55th?” Mighty asked. “You come from a long line of Alowishes…es.”
The moniker nodded his head solemnly, then set the flagon before Mighty. “What shall it be?”
Mighty thought for a moment. “What is the house special tonight?”
Alowishes leaned forward and raised an eyebrow, turning his forehead into a cascade of wide wrinkles. “The brownies, sir.”
Mighty blinked. “Brownies? Is that a drink?”
“Oh no, sir.” Alowishes straightened up and walked down the length of the bar. He retrieved a pedestal with a transparent shield bubble over it. When he came back, he set the tray in front of Mighty. “Brownies,” he said with absolute reverence.
Mighty peered at the offerings. They were indeed simple chocolate brownies with a dusting of some sort of nut on the top. He shrugged. “A brownie it is. And perhaps a flagon of milk to go with it.”
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More to come!
Words to Date: 33,157
Words to Go: 16,843 (I tell you--that actually looks doable!)
Monday, November 24, 2008
Day 24: Little help from my friends
So my friend MightiMidget and I have been word warring. That is, we have been doing 10-minute timed writings, but we've done ours with a twist. We will give each other a challenge to add during our 10 minutes, a dare, if you will. Then we write, and afterwards share how we incorporated the challenge.
Tonight, Midget said that I must put a talking Coke can into my story. So this is how it came about:
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Doxal smiled, curtsied, then opened the can. Instead of releasing the usual hiss of escaping carbon dioxide, a voice came out into the quiet of the hall.
“Mighty Myllon, I have a message for you.”
Mighty's eyes widened. He walked on his knees to Doxal's side and stared at the can. He looked up at Doxal. “Did you just hear...”
She nodded, her own eyes filled with curiosity.
Mighty took the can from her hands and turned it over. As he did so, the voice began to speak again.
“The message is from your father.”
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Tonight, Midget said that I must put a talking Coke can into my story. So this is how it came about:
---------
Doxal smiled, curtsied, then opened the can. Instead of releasing the usual hiss of escaping carbon dioxide, a voice came out into the quiet of the hall.
“Mighty Myllon, I have a message for you.”
Mighty's eyes widened. He walked on his knees to Doxal's side and stared at the can. He looked up at Doxal. “Did you just hear...”
She nodded, her own eyes filled with curiosity.
Mighty took the can from her hands and turned it over. As he did so, the voice began to speak again.
“The message is from your father.”
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Though I am still incredibly behind for having only six days left to complete, I am oddly optimistic that I'll still finish. Let's see if I make it...
Words to Date: 26,616 (and still counting tonight)
Words to Go: 23,384
Words to Date: 26,616 (and still counting tonight)
Words to Go: 23,384
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