NaNoWriMo?

[lukester911]

It's midnight over here, got my prologue down and started my first chapter.

 

[spoiler=prologue]

“One gunshot Teddy, just one. That’s all it takes for me to stop you, pathetic and worthless as you are. So reliant on other people to drag you along. How would you cope alone?”

 

The gun fired and Teddy saw her fall backwards, her last breath tearing at her lungs, echoing around the cavernous chamber in which they were imprisoned. Her lifeless body fell down into the pit beneath her. She was no more. Teddy’s last hope had perished without resistance or opposition, and had left him alone in the world.

 

 

Take me back

 

 

Thoughts? Criticisms? I'll be referring to this thread alot to see what people think as I go

[escapist]

Lovely opener. I'd be interested for more, most definitely!!

 

I have another hour or so to go!!

 

Here's my cover:

 

[New Born Lee]

It's midnight over here, got my prologue down and started my first chapter.

 

[spoiler=prologue]

“One gunshot Teddy, just one. That’s all it takes for me to stop you, pathetic and worthless as you are. So reliant on other people to drag you along. How would you cope alone?”

 

The gun fired and Teddy saw her fall backwards, her last breath tearing at her lungs, echoing around the cavernous chamber in which they were imprisoned. Her lifeless body fell down into the pit beneath her. She was no more. Teddy’s last hope had perished without resistance or opposition, and had left him alone in the world.

 

 

Take me back

 

 

Thoughts? Criticisms? I'll be referring to this thread alot to see what people think as I go

 

Looks interesting, a tantalising opening!

 

I've taken advantage of my insomnia to start mine as well.

 

 

 

In the middle of a dark, concealing night, a boot steps across the border of a small town; a boy passes through a gate and places his feet on a beaten trail; with fear and caution in his brain, and a will and a bravery in his heart, he sets forth with a desperate conviction. He leaves this town, at the tender age of sixteen, and with it he leaves his old life behind. He has decided he no longer wishes to be the tool of a family of thieves. He doesn't quite know what good is, but he knows that what his family does is not good. With a sword in his belt, and a gun in his holster, he vows to search for a living worthier than that of a thief; he wants to discard the reputation he has garnered from his family; and he will live for his own merits, or die trying. His name is Ambrose.

 

Nineteen years previously, in a country far overseas to where Ambrose now walks, a healthy young girl is born in a small village rarely seen by outsiders. The girl will live peacefully and normally for seven years, despite some unusual personality traits, until she and the village discover she has an unnatural ability; a defect that has disastrous consequences and will change the girl's life. She then struggles to live with regret, guilt, confusion and rage, alarming the other residents with her unruly and unorthodox behaviour. She, too, leaves her village at sixteen, and begins to trade in that strange ability that was once her shame: that she was forced to conceal. Her name is Isabel.

 

Now, at sixteen and nineteen respectively, these two souls are moving slowly towards one another, turned by the power of destiny, their decisions influenced by the cosmos. Ambrose sets up camp. He makes a fire, and he pitches a tent, in a small clearing in the middle of a forest. He is far from home: he has plenty of conviction still, but he is scared. Isabel steps into the forest. She has an objective, but she does not have any aim; she is restless and frustrated, and is prepared to keep searching, however aimlessly, to find what she is looking for.

 

To find what she has been looking for since she was seven years old. The answer to the question she put to her parents, to the old gods, to every wise man on the street she could find, all to no avail. She was special. She was unnatural. She was a prophet. She was a god. Isabel already knew what she was. What she didn't know was why.

 

Why was she given the power of Mass?

 

 

 

Am I happy with it? Of course I'm not. But that's NaNoWriMo and I'm going to have to accept whatever crap I put down.

 

Escapist: I really like that cover actually. It looks deceptively simple.

[MagicalMuser]

This shall be my first ever NaNoWriMo

 

I've only ever written fanfiction before, so I'm hoping coming up with my own characters instead of working with some that already exist won't be too hard.

 

Anyway, good luck to everyone

 

edit: My Microsoft Word just stopped working at this rate I'll never finish!

[lukester911]

Finished chapter one, currently at 1656 words

 

[spoiler=Chapter one]“It’s not about the money Ted, it’s the principle. Your parents said no, and that, unfortunate as it may be for you, is final!”

Teddy Armstrong stood opposite his large, grey haired tutor, a large ornate desk the only object separating them. From his uncomfortable class chair, the type which plagues many teenagers throughout their school lives, Teddy could see the slight quiver of his tutor’s large, bushy moustache quivering as he spoke. Usually this would be a humorous affair, with the young boy making several snide remarks towards his elder’s general upkeep, but the fact that he was, for once, being denied something… This, to Teddy, was no time for jokes.

“When have you lot ever gone by my parents? I believe you got the note I addressed to you?” Teddy leaned forwards with a slight grin appearing on his face, contorting his cheeks upwards on his pale skin, “And I don’t think you’ll be wanting me to take this any further, do you Mr. Jacksdale?”

A bead of sweat ran down the corrugated brow of Mr. Jacksdale, leaving a reflective track of water on his face as it continued it’s descent. His face was turning red with embarrassment at this interjection, the boy had been to see the headmaster once before, with disastrous consequences for the staff member involved. Ted had always had a close connection to the head of the school, since he had joined right at the beginning of his school life, a small, weedy boy who appeared to have little in the way of physical strength. Yet as he had progressed through his teenage years the young child who had once sat in Mr. Jacksdale’s class had grown into a handsome young man, his brown hair was styled differently with each passing day; today’s preference being spiked up at random. As the years has gone on his grip on the senior staff at the school had increased as dramatically as his appearance had changed.

Mr. Jacksdale certainly wasn’t the most imposing teacher under the school’s employment, but he had often felt he cast an imposing aura over the students, partly due to his confident disposition, but more because of his sheer mass in proportion to the teenage academics. Teddy, however, had often shown himself to be unfazed by either of these facts, sniping his elder down with casual jibes and sarcastic comments whenever the two of them met. Although it was Mr. Jacksdale’s job to keep Teddy in check, there appeared to be little he could do to overrule his decisions, especially under the threat of further action against him.

“I don’t want to cause you any more trouble than you already deal with around this…” Teddy glanced around the untidy office within which he sat, “school.”

The aging tutor leaned forwards in his chair, leaning his elbows on the desk and placing his head in his hands. He contemplated for what, to Teddy, felt like forever, muttering under his breath to ensure that his thoughts weren’t audible to the young man who sat before him. Eventually he rose from his thoughts, staring into Teddy’s large, blue eyes; which appeared to glisten in the sunlight that reflected from them.

“I will be permitting you to attend this visit Armstrong,” Mr. Jacksdale said, a look of defeat filling his features as he spoke, “But you’re not to breath a word to the headmaster about this. If anything is said then I guarantee you will take part in no further visits during your time at this school. Is the clear?”

Teddy smiled proudly, leaning further back in his chair as he replied.

“Oh most definitely Mr. Jacksdale. Not a breath. And may I say I have never met a more wonderful teacher in the whole of my time at The Bay!”

“Flattery will get you nowhere Ted. You’ve got what you wanted, now get out before I change my mind!”

It was an empty threat, as both of them knew, but it served well as an opportunity for Teddy to take his leave, exiting the office quickly and without another word to his tutor. As soon as the large wooden door closed behind him, Teddy ran the length of the corridor and hurtled into the boys toilets. Lessons had only ran half their length, which allowed him plenty of time to compose himself. ‘I’ve done it again’ he thought to himself, ‘This is better than I’d hoped for, another trip out of this place, and I don’t have to sit in some stuffy classroom just because of Dad!’

As the thought of his father crossed his mind, Teddy felt a small amount of loathing rising up in his chest. Jeffrey Armstrong was certainly a strict parent, often relying on more physical means of control within the household. Like Mr. Jacksdale, Jeffrey was of a far greater build than his son, and often used this to his advantage throughout Teddy’s upbringing. This had caused a great deal of hostility between the two of them, as Teddy often felt he was being victimised by his aggressive parent. To anyone else however, it was clear that both the Armstrong children experienced the same neglect at the hands of their father. Their mother, frail as she was, couldn’t defend Teddy or his sister, Rose- who was two years his junior.

The satisfaction of informing his father that he would be going on a school trip was almost too much to bare. Teddy felt his hatred subside, replaced with a slight giddiness at his own luck. Three more lessons and he would be home, telling his Dad about his odd fortune, and about how the trip had been made compulsory due to the “strong education value it possessed.”

Maths and art passed quickly, lessons had never been something that troubled Teddy. He had cruised easily through the majority of his exams with ease, and these last few revision lessons were a breeze compared to what had been outlined at the beginning of the school year. Only history stood between him and the end of the day, but that lesson hid one obstacle that Mr. Armstrong feared a little too much. Jessica Fletcher.

The girl had been an annoyance to Teddy since he had been forced to sit next to her at the start of the year, not that he had ever taken any notice of her before hand, there were far more interesting events taking place in his personal life at that time. She had an excitable, slightly immature personality, meaning she could frequently be heard above the sound of the rest of the class, giggling at the jokes she shared with her close friends. While Teddy had been forced away from those he was most comfortable with, a punishment deemed necessary by his teacher, Mrs. Williams, who felt that it offered him an opportunity to expand his social circle.

Even the girls appearance annoyed him, her hair fell in curls down to her shoulders, whereas Teddy much preferred straightened hair, as it shows that a girl has “a will to look after themselves properly.” Jessica had taken offence to this immediately, and had proceeded to look daggers at his for the rest of that particular lesson; a favour which Teddy had been happy to return. Miss Fletcher’s uniform was slightly untidy, and it was quite often that she entered the classroom with mud up the inside of her leg, or with her jumper tied haphazardly around her midriff.

And then, beyond her appearance and personality, there was the rift between their immediate families. Teddy was unsure of the events which had caused the animosity that overshadowed both families, since they had occurred long before his or Jessica’s births, but from what he had heard the Armstrongs were fully in their rights to dislike the Fletchers. Although his knowledge of this section of family history was still hazy, he refused to be the first to break tradition and befriend one of the other family, after all- his father would be most displeased if he were to find out.

It was because of this that the pair sat in silence, each focusing on anything apart from the work they had been set. The lesson passed much slower than maths and art, with the second hand appearing to struggle to make it round the clock face as the hour dragged on. Upon the sound of the bell Teddy launched from his chair and out of the door, leaving his opinions on Jessica, and the Spanish revolution, far behind him.

By the time Teddy was approaching home the sun was already setting over London, blazing against the rooftops and skyscrapers which outlined the horizon. The lights on his street were flickering into life, though many had long since given up on prolonged activation, either through neglect or age. Teddy rounded another corner and finally saw his house coming into view, it’s small garden gate hanging open as usual. As he approached the doorway he noticed his dad was yet to return home, the house was in darkness apart from Rose’s bedroom, where she spent the majority of her time. He rushed to the cupboards, withdrew a packet of crisps, headed up the stairs and slammed his bedroom door closed. It was a pointless act though, it wouldn’t stop his Dad getting to him if he wanted to.

 

 

 

Again, criticism ect. is appreciated

[escapist]

 

Escapist: I really like that cover actually. It looks deceptively simple.

 

Thank you! It's a bit rough, but the deception was what I was kinda going for.

 

I really like your prologue. Very interesting.

I jumped in right at chapter one. And I'm not posting ANYTHING until it's edited. Hahahaha!

[Gemsy]

Shit I was going to do this this year.

[Chocolate E. Clare]

im doing it this year im really quite behind atm, but im getting there

 

 

 

The cold droplets of rain on his forehead brought him back to consciousness. Weak, artificial light streamed through his eyelids, and slowly, cautiously, he opened his eyes. Blinking in the harsh yellow glow of streetlights, he sat up far too fast. He put hand to his head, suddenly hit by a wave of disconcerting dizziness. Fighting back the urge to throw up, he got carefully to his feet. All of his joints ached heavily, and there were a few spots of blood on his clothes from the scrapes and scars underneath them, including a particularly nasty-looking cut on his chest, but nothing felt broken, and he seemed to be able to stand just fine. The light-headedness grew worse, and he leaned over the thick, stone wall to stop himself collapsing. The view over the wall made him feel worse, as he looked down into the churning, murky-brown water. He looked up instead, across the water to the strange, slowly turning structure of wires and bright lights. Becoming transfixed by it, the spinning and changing lights began to make him feel worse than the water. His eyes wandered further up to the sky, an endless expense of dull blue-grey tinged with the same sickly yellow that came from the street lights next to him. He was sure there should be something different about that sky. It was supposed to be darker, and there were meant to be lights in it, like those lights on the wheel, but smaller, and whiter…stars, were they called? He couldn’t remember, and the harder he tried, the foggier his mind became. The thought of those stars, if that’s what they were called, reminded him of something though. He could remember…well, he couldn’t remember what he could remember, but he was sure it had something to do with those stars.

The air he was breathing felt cold in his lungs, and somehow different to what they were used to. It certainly felt dirtier at any rate, and tasted of something sour. This didn’t help with his sickness much, but the cold air cleared his head a bit, enough to start taking in his surroundings. The first thing that struck him were the big, red boxes, roughly one-and-a-half his height, with the word “Telephone” above the door. These, like everything in this world, seemed to be full of that artificial light. The street lights, the red boxes, the tall, square, grey buildings across the road, the shiny, black…his brain threw up the word “cars” so he supposed that was what they were called, they all carried that same yellow-orange glow with them. Maybe they needed those lights because they had no stars on this world. From behind the tall, grey building, he finally saw a star. No, not a star, it was far too big- this was called a…moon? Yes, that sounded right. A vague memory slipped into of his head of there being more than one of these in the sky. Three, ten, hundreds, thousands., all different sizes and colours, but the memory only lingered for a moment before slipping back into the fog.

“You all right mate?” he jumped, taken by surprise and brought suddenly out of his train of thought by the inquisitive female voice. “sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to give you a fright there!” dark-orange hair hung in soaking-wet curls around her shoulders, and she gave him an apologetic grin. “You just look a bit lost.” She scratched her head with long, slim fingers and glanced around. “Were you looking for somewhere?”

“I…well, where am I?” he said. She looked at him, bemused.

“Uh, Westminster. It can’t be that hard to tell surely, the London eye’s right behind you and Big Ben’s just over there.”

“Ok, thank you.” He smiled and nodded, then paused for a moment. “um, where’s Westminster?”

She laughed. “Good night then was it? London, of course”

“Oh I see. Um, where’s that?”

She looked at him for any sign that he might be joking, but found nothing in his blank, confused expression. “England.” No reaction. “Europe.” No reaction. “Earth?” No reaction. “The solar system? The milky way? The universe?” He remained blank and confused. “No help?”

“No, sorry.” He gave an apologetic shrug. She looked at him for a moment. He looked…odd, certainly; incredibly tall at at least 6 and a half feet, maybe even close to 7, and very thin with spidery-looking limbs and fingers, but he didn’t at all look like he was either high or paralytically drunk. “um, one more thing…you wouldn’t happen no know how I got here would you?”

“walked, maybe? Or got the tube, or a cab?”

He had no idea what a tube or a cab was, but he knew what walking was and he was reasonably sure that wasn’t how he’d arrived.

“I don’t think so…I just woke up here.” he pointed “and I don’t think I was here before then, I remember being…well I don’t remember being anywhere else, but I don’t think it was here.” this made his head hurt even more.

“I…see.” she said, wondering what the general procedure for people suffering from amnesia is. She rummaged in her pockets for her phone, still not sure who, if anyone, she was going to ring,

His head started to feel much worse, the bright lights and confusion numbing his brain, and all the energy he had left suddenly drained, leaving his legs feeling weak beneath him. “Can I ask you something else?”

She looked up from typing “amnesia” into Google, “Yeah, of course.” a sympathetic smile flickered across her lips as she glanced up at him, but it faded quickly as she noticed how queasy he looked.

“Who am I?” he said, before his knees gave way. She stepped in to catch him before he toppled over, putting her hands to his shoulders to keep him upright. She pushed him back towards the wall, making him sit down where she dialled 999. She leaned in to look at him, but he was out cold, at least for the moment. “Ambulance, please” she said when the phone was answered, pressing a hand to his forehead to check his temperature. “Yeah just passed out. Amnesia think. And probably quite underweight. Well he didn’t look very drunk” She put two fingers to the side of his neck to check his pulse. It was there, and strong, but there seemed something odd about it, like the beats were out of sync or something. “Yeah. Ok. Ok, thank you” she hung up and put the phone back in her pocket. She sighed and looked down at him, shaking her head in disbelief as she considered how quickly she’d gone from asking him if he was ok to having to call an ambulance. Despite the situation, she couldn’t suppress a small smile; this all felt unreal, too absurd, especially when even He didn’t look like he should be real; Impossibly tall and thin, all skinny limbs with an odd, angular face, all cheekbones and jaw line, with big, black-blue eyes in dark eye sockets that gave the impression that he was either sleep-deprived or wearing makeup. His dark hair was currently soaking, but still managed to stick out at al angles- he looked more like a cartoon character than a real person. She sat down beside him to wait for the ambulance, pressing her fingers to his wrist to keep an eye on his pulse. Again, the heartbeat was strong and regular, but still seemed out of sync; like there was maybe a third beat or something. She wondered why no-one had passed them in the time they’d been there, then checked her watch to find it was 11:30 at night. On a Friday or Saturday they might not have been alone, but on a Tuesday the absence of people was unsurprising. She sat in silence for a while, watching the occasional taxi go past, keeping an eye on his pulse and breathing.

After what felt like hours, but had probably only been a few minutes, she heard him cough and shift as he regained consciousness. He looked at her, wide eyed, about to say “what happened?”

“You passed out.” she explained apologetically. “ I’ve called you an ambulance,” she noticed that he looked even more confused “it’s a- never mind. I don’t know who you are I’m afraid.”

“Hm?” he said “oh, doesn’t matter, I just wondered.” He glanced down, confused as to why she was gripping his wrist so tightly. She promptly let go, but he looked apologetic, worried he’d offended her.

“I don’t know who you are either.” he said. “Sorry.”

She laughed “Oh no, you’re not meant to! We haven’t met before now. My names Costello Shakespeare.” she thought of offering him her hand, but then decided against it, realising he probably wasn’t that aware of what a handshake was.

“I quite like that name” he grinned, showing teeth that looked slightly too sharp, but somehow not sinister. “I don’t know what my name is, I’m afraid. I hope it’s a bit like that name.”

 

 

 

i left it here tonight without finishing the chapter becuase im too tired to keep writing and need to go to bed. i would be appreciative of comments/criticsm/advice though

[escapist]

3,376 before I sit down to write tonight!

I'M ON A ROLL!!!

[Gemsy]

She gets up, combs her hair, and cries. When she’s in the swing of it of course, she doesn’t mind. She’s not unhappy. She’s got Glenn, she’s got the kids. She’s got her book club and her girlfriends. She’s got a nice life.

 

Then she hears a noise. A giant spaceship lands on her head.

 

I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT I'M DOING HERE.

[Those Deaf Mutes]

no way i could do this

[Gemsy]

I don't want it to be boring mainstream fic. But I'm not sure I'm up to writing adventures. Maybe I am. I'd like it to have a bit of scifi in there. Otherwise I can see it ending up like boring mainstream boring. Or worse, chicklit, as it's quite female-based...

[Ionnas]

I'm in Saw I could do it in French, so yay, I could not do it in English.

 

This is an excellent writing exercise. My current novel in progress will not have any attention for as month but I had writer's block anyway. This will provide a fun distraction.

 

I'm going for a totally unplanned story. I'mma start with a character and do something about life. Write like I have verbal diarrhea.

[radiam16]

906 words

 

Weekend. Weekend weekend weekend. Bring it on!

[radiam16]

I don't want it to be boring mainstream fic. But I'm not sure I'm up to writing adventures. Maybe I am. I'd like it to have a bit of scifi in there. Otherwise I can see it ending up like boring mainstream boring. Or worse, chicklit, as it's quite female-based...

 

Totally doing scifi here. I love the crazy shit!

[Gemsy]

well it's TOTALLY gone in a direction I never imagined

[lemons]

i have probably 200 words.

 

it's not my damn fault that my creativity is gone at the moment. the deadbeat.

 

i agree with radiam. that's why weekends were invented.

[Chocolate E. Clare]

Argh, why's it so impossible for me to write dialogue?!

[Gemsy]

Argh, why's it so impossible for me to write dialogue?!

 

I have the opposite problem

[Ionnas]

Just started, it's going well. I'm letting my imagination run loose, it feels so liberating.

 

I did 948 words so far. Gotta do at least 1,852 each day if I want to make it.

 

Is anyone else having problems with the site?

[escapist]

5,000 what what?

 

haha. mine is adventure romance urban feel kind thing.

it's sweet.

[Gemsy]

Yeah the site's really slow for me! Busy busy, I suppose.

 

Mine's gone all romantic as well, it's disgusting.

[RequiemForADream412]

It's been going super slow since I started using it over the weekend. LOL IT'S ALL MY FAULT.

 

4215 words so far! 'Cept now I'm getting lazy and I'd rather sleep than write. arrrrgh. And I have no idea where my story's heading.

[Gemsy]

link up your profiles bbz

mine: http://www.nanowrimo.org///eng/user/750858

[escapist]

I can't get on the siteee!!! JHASDHUTAYKGASDH

 

I'm katttt over there. Add me!

 

http://nanowrimo.org///eng/user/554993