A whole week of NaNo – or rather, writing. I’m no stranger to writing every day, but as with reading books for classes at university, it’s always a little more difficult if you ‘have to.’ I don’t know if others feel like that, I do.
But it was a good week, not great, not sensational, but good. I wrote almost every day. Yes, I took a day off, but only one. I reached my daily requirement of 1,666 words twice, so far. I’m at 10,724 words which means I got my 10,000 word badge yesterday.
Don’t fool yourself, writing every day (even almost every day) is hard. My life’s drama does not allow for uninterrupted writing time. Sometimes, I’m sitting here at night while the tv is blaring, listening to music to drown out the tv, trying to concentrate on the words in my head. I don’t know if any of what I’ve written has a continuous rhythm, because I can’t read it out aloud. Hard time writing, at the moment, but at least I’m finding the time.
I really like my story. I’ve done some research and changed the locale from Reading to Bradford. I read about James Garfield and his wife, Lucretia (for some reason, he seems to me one of the most fascinating presidents of the U.S.). And I’ve researched first editions of books, just to know, you know. I find that time travelling stories need some reserach, especially history. But Carpe Tempus is also about books, about writing – and I’m doing what I criticize in others: wirting about writers. It’s tricky, and now add the fact that I studied literature and you have someone really nerdy, jerking literary theory onto an electronic page.
I’d have to read those parts again to see if I’d have to edit them, but that’s for later. Now, it’s just writing, looking the most imminent stuff up, playing – I’m playing with this, and it’s a lot of fun. I know, I said it’s hard and it is, but it’s also fun because it’s writing.
I’ve written 5 chapters so far. Wells is sorting through her mom’s extensive library, meets her mother’s lawyer with whom Wells went to high school. She also meets someone new, coincidentally, the woman who owns the local book store. Sorting through her mother’s papers, she feels that something is not quite right but she can’t put her finger on it yet. And that’s where I’m at. It’s still not much, maybe it doesn’t even make that much sense, we’ll see. I’m going word for word.
Carpe tempus, lovelies.