"I'm writing," I would explain when my parents saw me texting while splayed across the spare mattress we keep in the den. "I'm meditating for creativity."
|Barney Stimson/NPH will be on the cover of my NaNo Code.|
So my first day of Health (woop remedial summer school) proved to be a blessing in disguise. Not only was I stuck sitting at a table with thugs whose stories ended with, "F*** the police, bro!", but I was also away from any technology and excuses I could use to get out of writing. I did write, albeit in slanted blue-ballpoint cursive so nobody looking over my shoulder could easily read it. Story number one was an uninspired account of an artist who falls in love with a street-singing girl. It wasn't even complete; it was a skeleton. I wanted to trash it right away but followed the first canon of successful NaNo-ing: Thou shall not destroy thine own work five minutes after producing it. I'm not really sure what I'll ever do with it, but I'll keep y'all posted if any part of it is worth keeping.
I started brainstorming for story number two, though. I'm really, really excited about it but as of late, all my ideas sound better in my head than on paper. Fingers crossed this one breaks the mold.
|Bufriedos in their crispy golden glory!|