The filter likes Blogs.
The writing I enjoy falls neatly into two, main, catagories: novel and poetical.
This week/term has been hard.
However, all things can be overcome with the support you receive from friends. I am glad that I work with Amanda. The Haiku says it all. Everyone should be so fortunate
AMANDA
You make a difference -
thoughts and genuine kindness -
small actions turned great.
NANO VERIFIED WORD COUNT: 41,151
Thursday, 26 November 2009
Sunday, 22 November 2009
So near and yet so far away
Word Count verified at 34,800
JJ finds himself at a very different kind of school
Tyburn Trees Junior still has an executioner - who has yet to learn the meaning of humane, although from the insults he uses he is aware of human - in its narrowest sense.
JJ has lost his father, his home, his school, his friends, his hair colour - he's trying to find out who he is. He is doing better at realising who he isn't.
“Who is he to tell us how to be?” Connor grumbled.
“Like, what’s with the bowing – like he’s some freaking prince or something.”
“Still, better him than that spaz Newt.”
“We’ll see. If Newt splats his nose off his face,” Bright thrust a fierce upper cut into the air as they walked, “I say we walk with his pack again.”
“I hate him though.”
“Better hating behind him, than having him hate us.”
“True. But it felt good - not being in Newt’s crew this morning.”
“Let’s see if Jonas comes back again tomorrow.”
“Bright... he has to live through today first.”
So, what's new?!
JJ finds himself at a very different kind of school
Tyburn Trees Junior still has an executioner - who has yet to learn the meaning of humane, although from the insults he uses he is aware of human - in its narrowest sense.
JJ has lost his father, his home, his school, his friends, his hair colour - he's trying to find out who he is. He is doing better at realising who he isn't.
“Who is he to tell us how to be?” Connor grumbled.
“Like, what’s with the bowing – like he’s some freaking prince or something.”
“Still, better him than that spaz Newt.”
“We’ll see. If Newt splats his nose off his face,” Bright thrust a fierce upper cut into the air as they walked, “I say we walk with his pack again.”
“I hate him though.”
“Better hating behind him, than having him hate us.”
“True. But it felt good - not being in Newt’s crew this morning.”
“Let’s see if Jonas comes back again tomorrow.”
“Bright... he has to live through today first.”
So, what's new?!
Saturday, 21 November 2009
Piton perfect! Climbing the columns of NaNoWriMo shame!
Working hard to claw my way back on track - 4,000 + words so far to day - yeah!
JJ and Nerysa find the perfect place to hide out
In this genteel area of London, Connaught Close crouched behind its refined neighbours and lowered the tone. It was a rusted sliver of the old city surrounded by the silver of new money.
Jon walked into the dark that had nothing to do with the clouds that covered the moon. Even the street lights in Connaught Close seemed to shine less brightly. The rays were absorbed by the blackened stone walls that no one had sand blasted; although the neighbours would be happy to attempt it with a little dynamite.
Have a few more hours to work 30,300 currently
JJ and Nerysa find the perfect place to hide out
In this genteel area of London, Connaught Close crouched behind its refined neighbours and lowered the tone. It was a rusted sliver of the old city surrounded by the silver of new money.
Jon walked into the dark that had nothing to do with the clouds that covered the moon. Even the street lights in Connaught Close seemed to shine less brightly. The rays were absorbed by the blackened stone walls that no one had sand blasted; although the neighbours would be happy to attempt it with a little dynamite.
Have a few more hours to work 30,300 currently
New beginnings and New Moon 'near Edgware'
I took time out to not write or work!! I think that's living life on the wild side!
Wandered over to Come in Character. Christine had posted an opening line that made me shudder. Not badly written, but so familiar that the original wanted to keep itself intact and warned me off even trying to mess with it - big boy on the playground style! We study Barrowquest - dull - and Eragon - the other thing - in Y6 during the Spring Term quest Unit. It took a long time, like minutes, for me to come up with something I wanted to say:
Wind howled through the night, carrying a scent that...
thrummed discordantly with warring notes: the essence of life and the odour of death delayed. The cloying perfume, bound jasmine and tearose, insinuated itself into nasal passages and choaked the throat with gagging cough. What need was there for sight when the fetid whiff whispered to the primative brain that now would be the time to run?
I keep seeing knee-high, a-moral, daemons!
Then my teen and I set off to see New Moon - last year I dragged her to T1 this year no dragging was necessary. The wolf animation was a-ma-zing!
"Is that how you see the Were?" my Minnow asked.
I guess the answer was yes - for Alex and Raphael - but, I didn't see Caleb's dignified, always cautious, control.
Near Edgware - on a friend's blog she asked about titles - Roni wrote 'what do you call your WIP?' I'm almost ashamed to admit that I have a working title, or two, but then there is the secret name too - the one that cannot be named or it will bring bad luck to the venture ;) See, I wrote a joke smile, so it can't be true :s
Wandered over to Come in Character. Christine had posted an opening line that made me shudder. Not badly written, but so familiar that the original wanted to keep itself intact and warned me off even trying to mess with it - big boy on the playground style! We study Barrowquest - dull - and Eragon - the other thing - in Y6 during the Spring Term quest Unit. It took a long time, like minutes, for me to come up with something I wanted to say:
Wind howled through the night, carrying a scent that...
thrummed discordantly with warring notes: the essence of life and the odour of death delayed. The cloying perfume, bound jasmine and tearose, insinuated itself into nasal passages and choaked the throat with gagging cough. What need was there for sight when the fetid whiff whispered to the primative brain that now would be the time to run?
I keep seeing knee-high, a-moral, daemons!
Then my teen and I set off to see New Moon - last year I dragged her to T1 this year no dragging was necessary. The wolf animation was a-ma-zing!
"Is that how you see the Were?" my Minnow asked.
I guess the answer was yes - for Alex and Raphael - but, I didn't see Caleb's dignified, always cautious, control.
Near Edgware - on a friend's blog she asked about titles - Roni wrote 'what do you call your WIP?' I'm almost ashamed to admit that I have a working title, or two, but then there is the secret name too - the one that cannot be named or it will bring bad luck to the venture ;) See, I wrote a joke smile, so it can't be true :s
Wednesday, 18 November 2009
Sur - Ma'am - real
Went to London - State Opening of Parliament - School Cabinet - the Queen waved at me and I mean that ... our eyes met, so I know - she waved - like you do when you're the queen, and I wanted to write.
I felt weird.
STAYING LOST End of Chapter 7
He lay still and breathed until he knew each rib that expanded and contracted to allow the air to enter and leave his body. He wanted to imagine himself six-foot tall and fighting fit... to be some kind of avenging whatever-in-a-cape dealing vengeance and retribution. Why was he not cruising the streets, armed and dangerous, in his mind; why was he not crushing enemies under foot? Where were those thoughts? Why could he not make them, form them into scenes of retaliation? Why was there only one question and no answers?
Counting, and watching the chill blue light from the torch flicker on the wall beside him, filled the space in his head. Jon lay: moving his toes in his boots; squirming in protest at the pressure building in his bladder; rubbing the emptiness that bloated his stomach; banging to relieve the woolly, aching, unreality in his head. He used anything... everything... to push the question back into the vacuum at the back of his mind.
It wouldn’t obey... it whispered when he counted but shouted when he breathed.
The noises outside his head faded, the rays that cut the dark flickered. Despair emerged from the dark until it crowded round Jon’s bed. The blue torchlight faltered again and was gone.
Then there was nothing between Jon and the question that tormented him.
He whispered over the sound of the silence, “Who am I?”
I felt weird.
STAYING LOST End of Chapter 7
He lay still and breathed until he knew each rib that expanded and contracted to allow the air to enter and leave his body. He wanted to imagine himself six-foot tall and fighting fit... to be some kind of avenging whatever-in-a-cape dealing vengeance and retribution. Why was he not cruising the streets, armed and dangerous, in his mind; why was he not crushing enemies under foot? Where were those thoughts? Why could he not make them, form them into scenes of retaliation? Why was there only one question and no answers?
Counting, and watching the chill blue light from the torch flicker on the wall beside him, filled the space in his head. Jon lay: moving his toes in his boots; squirming in protest at the pressure building in his bladder; rubbing the emptiness that bloated his stomach; banging to relieve the woolly, aching, unreality in his head. He used anything... everything... to push the question back into the vacuum at the back of his mind.
It wouldn’t obey... it whispered when he counted but shouted when he breathed.
The noises outside his head faded, the rays that cut the dark flickered. Despair emerged from the dark until it crowded round Jon’s bed. The blue torchlight faltered again and was gone.
Then there was nothing between Jon and the question that tormented him.
He whispered over the sound of the silence, “Who am I?”
Tuesday, 17 November 2009
Still Writing
Falling behind.
Falling.
Not failing,
just trailing -
lagging behind,
losing the battle with time.
Wrote an assembly that wasn't even mine.
It's fine.
They're numbers not nooses.
Falling.
Not failing,
just trailing -
lagging behind,
losing the battle with time.
Wrote an assembly that wasn't even mine.
It's fine.
They're numbers not nooses.
Wednesday, 11 November 2009
NEAR EDGWARE Fan mail 1
I have been meaning to write but this month has been crazy, I wanted to tell you that I loved the book and I was sad when I finished it so I read it again.
:-)
:-)
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