Wednesday, November 02, 2005

National Novel Writing Month

Well, it's only the 2nd ~~ not too late to get in on NaNoWriMo! The hell you say?

I stumbled onto this site a couple of years ago, and it's great fun, even if you decide not to do it. November's never great for me: it contains Thanksgiving. . . .

Check it out!

10 comments:

Catreona said...

Hi Puddle,

Wow! I had no idear there was a national novel writing month, much less that November was it. Thanks for bringing this reason for November's existence to our attention. Guess I'd better get busy on THE BLACK HOLE OF STRLINKMRLAD, huh?

Don't care much for Thanksgiving myself. Don't like Christmas. Really don't like Easter. Don't ask!!! And, the worst of it is that people are so agressively jolly during these holiday times, especially Christmas; and they actually have the chutzpa(sp?) to tell one that one *must* also be cheerful and jolly. I prefer observing holidays quietly, by myself. For some reason, which is totally beyond my comprehension, most people find this simple desire weird in the extreme. *sigh*

BTW I've added a title for your post and made the link so it opens in a new window. Just makes the entry a little more reader friendly.

Catreona said...

P.S. Because this blog is, for reasons I don't fully grasp, set with its default time zone on LA time, it was still Eleventh Month First Day when your post went up. Go figure. It worked out well, anyway.

PPS I'm really annoyed that a troll got firsties!!!

mprov13 said...

CATREONA,

I SAY ERASE THE BUGGER. THROW HIM/HER IN THE TRASH. BANISH THEM FOR GOOD!

mprov13 said...

so, how's this for an idea:

let's start telling a story. anyone can add whatever they want. bend the plot, create characters, anything. ok. i'll start:

as the door opened, i could just barely see that there was movement in the adjacent room. the voices, almost hushed in a whisper, could just be heard. the woman swept by me, distracting me for only a moment, as i tried to hear what was being said.

"...don't get rid of that guy. there's no point...but, if you do, i'll..."

"mr. santos, he'll be ready for you in a second."

i sat up a little straighter and smiled at her in that manufactured way that was expected. she disappered into the room closing the door behind her.

i refocused on my surroundings: that awful rented office waiting room furniture with the obligatory copies of prints by artists that could have come out of a cracker jacks box. the avacado colored lamps with the 60 watt bulbs that couldn't quite light the room. the industrial carpet that isn't really any color at all. and, that smell that always seems to permediate these places, a whisp of blended somethings that probably came in a take-out box. and me.

Catreona said...

(story continued)

All in all, this was a most unexpected place for me to have been summoned, especially to meet...

The voices increased in volume. It sounded like the stranger - I didn't recognize her voice - was displeased at being questioned. I bristled. Who was this unknown person to raise her voice to Gov. Dean? After all, he was heading this venture. He may, perhaps, not have been perfect, but he was the force that had drawn us all together. His vision and enthusiasm had been enough to bring in doubters, to corral donors, and to form a volunteer corps. I was one of those volunteers. It made me angry and a little queezy to overhear this argument.

Catreona said...

BTW mprov, is this collaborative effort meant to be our collective contrabution to National Novel Writing Month? Whether it is or it isn't, I love the idear.

mprov13 said...

catreona,

i don't know...just for fun???

you gotta get inserted into the next thread.

listener said...

Suddenly I realised that I might be the only person not directly involved in the meeting -- if you could call something like this merely a meeting; it was really more like an inquiry, it seemed to me -- that I might be the only person overhearing some of this who has the freedom to take action. After all, Howard Dean always told me that I had the power. But what to do with that power right now, in this place? What action makes the most sense here and now? Isn't that always the question of the moment?

The lighting is really starting to get to me now. I feel as green as the lamps. More voices through the whitewashed wooden door. Why didn't I think to bring a notepad? That woman isn't alone in there with Howard. Why does she sound so determined and who is that backing her up? The voice is familiar but I can't place it. What is going on? My hands are sweaty.

The sound of the doorknob turning makes me jump. Oh, God, the door is opening...

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