NaNoWriMo 2015

Okay, I'm really going to participate in NaNoWriMo this year so that I can finally finish my book about Savannah! Not an easy feat since I will need to write at least 500 words DAILY. That may not sound like much, but when those words actually have to make sense and move a story forward, it's a bit daunting. To help my motivation, I'm saving this image I found on another writer's blog. Maybe it will help someone else too!

Courtesy of: stopprocrastinatingapp.com

Chapter 4

It's been almost two years since I worked on the book I was writing for my class. My new goal is to have the whole thing finished by the end of the year (Wow! I just came up with that! What am I thinking??). Yesterday I spent the day revising and editing the first three chapters based on comments from the instructor (from two years ago!!). Today I wrote chapter 4. Hope you enjoy it.

The next morning Savannah’s mom offered to give her a ride to school since she would have to stay home with her brother for the day of suspension. It wasn’t until Savannah walked through the school doors, the first bell ringing in her ears, that she remembered she had promised to meet Trudy early to work on homework together. Oh well, she mused. At least I won’t have to worry about keeping to myself. No way Trudy will talk to me now. She adjusted her heavy backpack higher on her shoulder and headed straight for her classroom. No time to stop at her locker since the first bell had already rung.

            Savannah walked into the classroom, head down and lost in thought when she ran right into Eileen.

            “Excuse you!” Eileen huffed, picking up the books that had fallen in the collision.

            “Oh, sorry,” stammered Savannah. “I didn’t see you.”

            “Well, obviously! Maybe you should come out of your little dream world and join the rest of us here in reality!” Eileen emphasized her last words with an elbow in Savannah’s side as she pushed past.

            Savannah’s shoulders slumped and she stared at her feet as she continued to her desk. This mistake almost ran her right into another student. This time she swerved quickly and looked up to see Trudy.

            “Hi.” Trudy smiled at her. Savannah was confused. She was certain Trudy would be mad at her for not meeting up to do homework together. But here was Trudy, smiling at her.

            “Hi.” Savannah moved past her to set her backpack next to her desk. “Sorry about this morning,” she said without looking at Trudy.

            “Oh, it’s OK,” Trudy said with a shrug of her shoulders. “Mrs. Hale was able to help me with my math since I was here early.” She paused before asking hesitantly, “Is everything OK at your house?”

            Just then the second bell rang signaling that class had begun. Savannah made a face and whispered, “I tell you later,” as she sat down.

            Savannah’s mind was far from Mrs. Hale’s math lesson that morning as she imagined Josh at home hauling rocks from one side of the yard to the other, her mother keeping stern watch. Instead of working out the problems for the assignment they had been given, she tried to work out in her mind how she was going to help her brother sneak a rat into the house for the weekend. No great ideas came to Savannah during the social studies lesson either, and she found herself wishing she hadn’t promised her brother she would help.

            After lunch outside on the blacktop, she shared her concerns with Trudy who was shooting baskets while Savannah sat on a nearby bench, arms wrapped around her legs and chin resting lightly on her knees.

            “If it were a hamster, I’d suggest you could keep it at my house,” Trudy offered. “But my mom would freak out if she knew I brought a rat home.”

            “That’s my problem exactly,” said Savannah, brows creased in thought. The hollow slapping of Trudy’s ball bouncing on the asphalt and occasional ringing vibration of it hitting the backboard and hoop made Savannah think of her dad. She and Josh had often gone to the park with him to play HORSE or Around the World. She remembered the last time they had played just before he left for Iraq. When they returned home and stowed the basketball in the shed in their backyard, she had wondered how long it would be before they would play with it together again.

            Savannah lifted her head off her knees and caught Trudy’s rebounding ball as it flew towards her. “I’ve got it!” she said.

            “I know! Great catch!” said Trudy as she jogged over to take the ball from her.

            Savannah smiled. “No, I mean I know what to do with the rat! There’s a shed in our backyard that has a bunch of old sports stuff and gardening tools. We can keep it in there! My mom hardly ever goes in there; she hates gardening and sports.” Savannah laughed for the first time she could remember since before her dad left. “It will be a perfect hiding place for the weekend! Thanks for the idea,” she said to Trudy as she tossed the ball back to her.

            Trudy caught it and smiled, looking a little confused. “Glad I could help,” she said.

            The bell marking the end of lunch break had the two girls hurrying back into the school. Both stopped at their lockers to get the books they would need for the afternoon. Savannah grabbed her science book but after a quick search realized her English book wasn’t in her locker. Then she remembered coming in to class that morning as the bell rang with no time to leave her backpack in her locker.

            Savannah headed for the classroom door and saw two-thirds of the Brat Pack – Jonetta and Shelly – standing just inside the doorway giggling. Shelly noticed Savannah coming their way and leaned over to Jonetta, hissing in her ear and pushing her back inside the classroom. Savannah immediately got a bad feeling from the scene. Once inside the classroom, she knew what was wrong. Her backpack, which she had left right next to her desk, was gone. With a growing sense of dread, she walked around the classroom, looking in corners and under tables to see if maybe it had only been moved out of the way by someone. With no sign of the backpack, she returned to her desk and plunked down into the seat with her science book. The bell rang for the start of class and Eileen hurried in the door looking out of breath.

            “Eileen, you’re late. The bell already rang,” Mrs. Hale said.

            “Oh, sorry, Mrs. Hale. I was just packing something up.” Her voice didn’t carry a hint of sarcasm, but Savannah caught the emphasis on her words, as well as the pointed look Eileen threw her direction.

            “Alright, well take a seat so we can get started,” Mrs. Hale told her.

            “Yes, ma’am,” mumbled Eileen.

            Mrs. Hale turned to the board to write the objectives for the science lesson and Eileen passed Savannah on her way to her desk, elbowing her in the arm on the way by.

            Hot tears stung the back of Savannah’s eyes. She could hear the Brat Pack whisper and giggle, but she refused to look at them. Instead she looked at Trudy who was staring down the three girls, eyes narrowed and mouth set. Trudy looked at Savannah and shot her a quick smile, mouthing the words ‘ignore them’ before she turned to follow the science lesson.

            Savannah wanted nothing more than for the day to end, so when the final bell rang it was with relief that she headed for the classroom door. Trudy quickly caught up to her.

            “What happened? I saw Eileen bump you when she came in after lunch. Did she say something to you?”

            “I think she took my backpack,” said Savannah, the tears threatening to come back.

            “What? Why?” Trudy made a noise of frustration and grabbed Savannah’s arm. “Come on. Let’s go find it.”

            The girls searched the inside of the school first: cafeteria, gym, bathrooms, even the trash cans. Next they searched outside around the perimeter of the building.

            Trudy pointed, “There it is.”

            The backpack was between the wall and a garbage can that was chained in place, one strap hanging out to reveal its hiding place.

            Savannah ran over and pulled her backpack out from behind the can. The tears she had held back all afternoon instantly fell. Underneath the Army logo in black Sharpie was the word “BRAT” written in big, block letters.

            “I think she was referring to herself,” Trudy said taking the backpack from Savannah. “Here, I’ll carry it home for you. We’ll have to walk since the bus already left.”

            Savannah only nodded, wiping the tears angrily from her eyes. The two started walking home, neither of them talking.

            Finally Trudy broke the silence. “Look, Savannah, you have to stand up to her! You can’t just let her bully you like that.”

            Savannah snorted, “What am I going to do? Tell the teacher? I don’t have any proof she did it. No, I’ll just pretend it didn’t happen. I have another backpack at home. Maybe if I just ignore her she’ll leave me alone.”

            “No, Savannah! That’s not how to handle this. I’ll help you, OK? Eileen and her bratty friends have it out for me too. We’ll deal with this together.”

            Savannah looked into Trudy’s eager face. She wanted to believe her. She wanted to think that she had a friend that would stick by her. But the old nagging thought came back – “You’ll just end up moving, or she will. You always end up leaving friends.” But as much as she wanted to stick to her plan of not making friends and being invisible, she knew that right now she needed a friend more than anything.

Exodus, complete

Here's the whole Exodus story. Made a few changes in the original half. Very close to my dream, with a few enhancements.

The end was near.  I could feel it more every day.  Everyone could.  My skin felt thinner, breathing was a little more difficult, and the sky – even the air – had an unearthly orange tint.  I could see it in everyone’s eyes; fear, despair and barely tamped down hysteria.  It was as though humanity, or what was left of it, had managed to reconnect through that ancient link. We all knew everything through this link somehow, as if the coming obliteration of humankind had turned on some sensor in our brains that had previously lay dormant. Now every nerve ending could pick up the message from the universe pulsing around us like the beat of a broken conveyor belt, slapping ever slower as the machine loses speed.  It was as if the Milky Way itself were coming unwound and spinning erratically off kilter through the stars coming to rest unspooled in some forgotten corner of the universe.

            Many had already died, and those of us who were left walked aimlessly as though in a trance; butterflies with broken wings fluttering along at the whim of the wind, vainly trying to stay airborne. But even as it appeared we were going nowhere, there was a pattern to our paths; an unseen force pushing us towards the same destination. As dry leaves rattle and scrape against each other when borne on a chill fall wind, we were piling up inexorably into a forgotten corner of Earth, rustling and restless.  We were slow trails of human ants. But even as I moved forward I had the uneasy feeling that something was out of place, missing. My brain was numb to sorting out the confusion in my mind. All thought was instead focused on our destination.

            It soon became clear. Strangely, through that ancient link we had all realized it at precisely the same moment. When the massive alien craft came into view and hovered near our location, we moved as one accord, knowing that this would be the ticket off our dying planet – a Noah’s Ark of humankind. And tickets we did receive.  Officials handed them out at a gate, and I wondered offhandedly how they came about their task. Where had they turned their resume into? Who had hired them? But more importantly, how could they decide who was a deserving ticket holder?

            Like waiting for some perverse Disney ride, we queued up and clicked through the turnstile one by one, receiving tickets from scrutinizing gatekeepers. All the while the massive disc hung suspended in the air, humming and flashing. An expectant hum of human noise added to the vibrating undercurrent. As I inched closer to the turnstile entrance, I began to notice another line next to our own, this one filled with weeping, hysterical people that were being held back by the officials and the uneasiness at the back of my mind flared anew. Who were these people undeserving of a ticket? A moment of panic ensued when I wondered if I would be deserving; if the gatekeepers would even let me through the turnstile, or decide that I was in the wrong line.

            At last it was my turn. I stepped up to the official, my stomach in knots as I wondered if he would let me through or relocate me to the line of hungry eyed non-ticket holders. A quick glance at my face and he handed me a ticket, allowing me to pass. I moved quickly in case he decided to change his mind and call me back. I joined the lines of human ants, five wide, as they moved to the double wide gangplank that led to the gaping maw that was the opening of the craft. Slowly, shuffling feet inched forward. But there was no hurry now, no sense of impatience. We were the chosen ones after all; our tickets were in hand. A strange hush was over us as we prepared to board the ship; each person inside his own thoughts.

            Even as I moved forward to board the alien craft, the niggling on the edges of my consciousness continued. I strained to remember, casting about in the dark corners of my mind for the missing piece. A sound from the turnstiles below dragged my thoughts back into focus. Looking down, the missing piece I had strained to find fell with a loud and heavy clunk into my brain. There below me, struggling to fight past the officials was a girl with no ticket in her hand – my daughter. A strangled cry escaped me, and I turned back, shoving and pushing the masses of people coming toward me. There was no more fear, no more questions for me about where I was going and what my fate would be. Pushing and struggling through the people who were planning to leave this Earth I wondered if they also had loved ones they had forgotten about? Was the line with no exit those forgotten? Stumbling the last few feet back to the turnstiles, I climbed over the one that had only a few moments ago let me through to what I thought was freedom. Falling into an embrace with my daughter, I felt the universe speed up again. 

Exodus

Here's another sci-fi piece I've been working on. Yes, another one from a dream I had. Still not finished with it, but will post the second half soon.

 The end was near.  I could feel it more every day.  Everyone could.  My skin felt thinner, breathing was a little more difficult, and the sky – even the air – had an unearthly orange tint.  I could see it in everyone’s eyes; fear, despair and barely tamped down hysteria.  It was as though humanity, or what was left of it, had managed to reconnect through that ancient link. We all knew everything through this link somehow, as if the coming obliteration of humankind had turned on some sensor in our brains that had previously lay dormant. Now every nerve ending could pick up the message from the universe pulsing around us like the beat of a broken conveyor belt, slapping ever slower as the broken machine loses speed.  It was as if the Milky Way itself were slowly coming unwound and spinning erratically off kilter through the stars slowly coming to rest unspooled in some forgotten corner of the universe.

            Many had already died, and those of us who were left walked aimlessly as though in a trance; butterflies with broken wings fluttering along at the whim of the wind, vainly trying to stay airborne. But even as it appeared we were going nowhere, there was a pattern to our paths; an unseen force pushing us towards the same destination. As dry leaves rattle and scrape against each other when borne on a chill fall wind, we were piling up inexorably into a forgotten corner of Earth, rustling and restless.  We were slow trails of human ants, and even as I moved forward, I wondered at our destination.

            It soon became clear. Strangely, through that ancient link we had all realized at precisely the same moment what our destination was. When the massive alien craft came into view and hovered near our location, we moved as one accord, knowing that this would be the ticket off our dying planet – a Noah’s Ark of humankind. And tickets we did receive.  Officials handed them out at a gate, and I wondered offhandedly how they came about their task. Where had they turned their resume into? Who had hired them? But more importantly, how could they decide who was a deserving ticket holder?

Mrs. Flowers' Daisy

Yes, it's been a looooong time since I've last posted. No, I haven't finished anymore chapters of my book. I'm hoping to pick up that strand again soon. For now, I've entered a writing contest or two. The most recent one I entered was a kindergarten story writing contest. Easy, right? I thought so. After all, I teach Kindergarten. I know what the kids are interested in. I know the reading level they have. Unfortunately, I misremembered the guidelines thinking that I had a whole 500 words to write a story. Wrong! I wrote a story of 450 words, then went back and checked guidelines and realized I had to cut 300 words!!! The contest only asked for a 150 word story. First rule of writing - follow the guidelines or your work is immediately disregarded. So I went back and cut, and cut, and cut, AND cut. Whew. Finally got to 150 words and couldn't believe it. It's not as rich as the original version, but when writing for beginning readers it's important to keep it short and simple. As a comparison I've included the original 450 word story with the 150 word cut. What do you think??

Version 1

The soft, warm body purred under Jo’s hand. Green eyes were bright next to the kitten’s gray fur. “Mew!” it said, and Jo smiled.

            “Mama, can we get it?” Jo asked, blue eyes pleading.

            “No cats, Jo. You know your brother is allergic to them,” said Mama.

            Jo pouted, but she knew her mama would tell her no. She always said no to cats.

            “Let’s go, Jo. We need to go to Mrs. Flowers’ house to make dinner.” Mama pulled on Jo’s hand as she led her to the car.

            Jo’s mama helped take care of Mrs. Flowers. She was an old lady who lived all by herself in a big house. Mrs. Flowers gave Jo hard candies and told her stories. Jo liked her, but she thought Mrs. Flowers was sad being all alone in a big house.

            Mrs. Flowers was sitting in a chair by the window curled up like an old, dry leaf when Jo and her mama came in.

            “Come say hello to me, Jo,” Mrs. Flowers said. Her old, green eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled.

            Jo climbed up on Mrs. Flowers’ warm lap and gave her a hug. Soft gray hairs tickled her cheek.

            “What have you been up to today, Jo?” asked Mrs. Flowers.

            “We went to the store for groceries and there was a lady giving away kittens!” Jo said.

Mrs. Flowers laughed, but her crinkly eyes looked sad. “Kittens are fun, but they grow up to be big cats,” she said.

“I love cats,” said Jo, climbing down off Mrs. Flowers’ lap. “I want a house full of cats!”

“I like cats too,” said Mrs. Flowers. “I once had a sweet little gray kitty named Daisy. She was a good cat.”

Jo saw the happy look on Mrs. Flowers’ face as she talked about the cat she used to have. It gave her an idea.

“Be right back, Mrs. Flowers!” she said.

Jo ran to the kitchen. “Mama! Remember the kitten we saw at the store?”

Mama frowned. “Jo, I told you we can’t have any cats!”

“I know that!” said Jo. “But what if we got the kitten for Mrs. Flowers?”

Mama shook her head. “Mrs. Flowers can’t take care of a kitten all by herself, Jo.”

“I could help take care of it. Please!” Jo pleaded, her blue eyes shining.

Mama thought about it, and then she said, “It will be a lot of work, Jo. You have to come every day to help Mrs. Flowers until the kitten gets bigger.”

“I can do it!” Jo said. “And I know just what we’ll call it!” Then she ran back to tell Mrs. Flowers about her new Daisy.

Version 2

The kitten’s gray fur was soft. It had green eyes.

            “Can we get it?” Jo asked.

            “No cats,” said Mama.

            Mama always said no cats.

            “Let’s go help Mrs. Flowers,” said Mama.

            Mrs. Flowers was in a chair curled up like an old, dry leaf.

            Jo climbed on her lap. Gray hairs tickled her cheek.

            “What did you do today?” asked Mrs. Flowers.

            “We saw some kittens!” Jo said.

Mrs. Flowers green eyes looked sad. “I had a cat named Daisy.”

“I love cats,” said Jo, climbing down.

“Me too,” said Mrs. Flowers.

Jo saw the happy look on her face. She had an idea.

Jo ran to Mama. “Can we get the kitten for Mrs. Flowers?”

Mama shook her head no.

“I can help!” said Jo.

Mama said, “It’s a lot of work.”

“I can do it!” Jo said.

            She ran to tell Mrs. Flowers about her new Daisy.