Family Tragedy

has unfortunately struck. I may not be on for a few days.  Fret not, I am still writing by hand, I just won't be able to update my word count or post excerpts, most likely for a few days.  I will write when I can, and will try to post an extra long excerpt once I have more time at my computer.

NaNoWriMo: Day 15

The official halfway mark of the month is upon us, and my word count  has reached 27, 920.  The bulk of the plot has happened.  I've gotten to the point where I'm writing all of the transitions between major scenes.  This writing is beyond boring.  The little details of day to day life are so tedious to write.  It makes me wish I had tackled a fantasy novel instead so that at least I could have my main character use magic to wash the dishes.  That being said, I'm still wonderfully on track to get this thing done by the end of the month.  We're also getting close to then end of chapter one with my daily excerpts here.  Enjoy this one. It's the last of chapter one :)

     We fall back into silence. I do not trust myself to make any more small talk. If I stay quiet, at least I know I will not mistakenly mention the house again, or worse, my grandfather. My grandmother has lost a lot tonight, and I do not want to force her to talk about anything she is not ready to discuss yet. Thoughts of how much she has lost tonight occupy us both until I pull into my driveway.

      My house is nothing fancy, but it I love it. There is a small eat-in kitchen, and the living room is through an open archway in the far wall. When you are standing under the kitchen archway, there is a door in the far wall of the living room that leads out to a set of concrete steps down into the front yard. To your left, there is a short hallway. The bathroom is the first door on the left. The second door is a closet that holds my linens and a bunch of other things that I do not have a better place to store. The only door on the right is my guest bedroom. The door at the end of the hall leads to my bedroom. I am happy to see that it is shut. Tired as she is, if Gram saw the state of my bedroom, she would give me a lecture on cleanliness for sure. I show my grandmother to the guest room. There is a brass daybed against the right wall. I have a small desk pushed into the left corner on the far wall. During the day, the sunlight from the window on that wall sheds natural light on the desk top and makes it a great space to write. There is a small closet set into the left wall and a set of drawers directly to the right of the door.

      “The dresser is empty.” I say, and point to the chest of drawers as if she may not be able to spot it on her own. “The closet is also empty. Since you'll be staying here for a bit, feel free to decorate the room however you want. If you want to rearrange the furniture or anything, just let me know, and I'll help you move it.”

       “I'm not going to rearrange your furniture. It's fine where it is. As for the closet and dresser, I don't have anything to put in them. What you see is what I've got.” She says. She grabs one side of her bathrobe in each hand and holds her arms out by her sides.

      “I'm sorry, Gram. I forgot that you don't have any other clothes. I'll take you over to Wal-Mart first thing in the morning to pick out some new things. Let me grab you a clean nightgown.”

     Being more comfortable in a tank top and pair of shorts, I do not usually wear nightgowns when I sleep. I wade through the mess on my bedroom floor to my dresser. The nightgowns are in the bottom drawer, and may be the only clothing I own that is actually in its place. The majority of my wardrobe is currently on the floor of my room or in a laundry basket on top of the dryer. I pick out a white cotton gown and close the dresser drawer.

      My grandmother is sitting in the center of the daybed when I walk back to the guest room. Her legs are too short to reach the floor, so her soot-covered black slippers hang a few inches from the hardwood floor. The fake fur of the slippers is matted, and I think the fuzz may have melted in a few places.

      “Here you go, Gram.” I say as I pass her the nightgown.

      “Thanks, Jody.”

      “Is there anything else I can get you, Gram? You sure you don't want that tea?”

      “No, honey. I'm just going to take a bath and then get to bed.”

      “Ok. The bathroom is just across the hall. There are towels in the hall closet. There should be an extra toothbrush under the bathroom sink. Help yourself to anything else in the house.”

      This time she just nods. She slides down off of the bed and shuffles out into the hallway. She closes the bathroom door behind her, and I hear the water begin to fill the tub. I can smell the smoke in my own clothes and hair, but I am too tired to wait until Gram is done to hop in the shower. I peel the smoky clothes off and toss them in the pile by the bedroom door. I pull my hair back into a loose braid to keep its smokiness away from my face. I crawl into bed, and I think I fall asleep before my head even reaches the pillow.

NaNoWriMo: Day 14

Finally passed the half-way mark.  Think my house guest may be a little miffed since I shut myself away for a few hours this afternoon to get some writing done, but I'm sure he'll get over it :)  Novel word count is now 26, 037.  Worked out some scene and dialogue transitions today that really needed some work.  I'm really happy with the changes I made.  Things seem to be flowing more naturally.  I feel like dialogue is my weak point, so I'm constantly revising it to make my characters sounds more natural. That being said, here is today's sneak peek.

      We ride down Route Three in silence. It is not a very long drive to get to the town of Lowville, but the silence stretches every second into an hour. We pass over Beaver Falls. My window is cracked to let fresh air into the car, and I can hear the water rushing over the rocks below the bridge. Year ago, people would dive from the side of bridge. They would free fall into the deep pool below the falls. The river was swollen then and its depths made it safe to jump from the bridge's height. Even those thrill seekers would not risk jumping from the bridge now. The water is too low to survive the fall. In places, it barely covers the rocks as it flows over them.

      Even though the autumn night is chilly, the crickets send their songs across the river. There are always more insects near the water. The air here is filled with their high-pitched chirping. As we pull further away from the bridge, their songs fade and the car lapses into silence again. Soon, I find myself talking just to break the quiet.

      "I'll put the kettle on the stove as soon as we get home and I'll make you some tea. I have that English Breakfast stuff that you like. If you want, you can take a shower while water's boiling. You'd be able to wash the smell of smoke out of your hair."

      For a few seconds, I think she is going to stay mute, and I struggle to think of something else to say.

      "I think a bath might be nice. I'd like to soak the fire out of my skin."

      "As soon as we get home, I'll show you where I keep the towels. I can lend you a clean nightgown too, if you'd like." I realize that I keep referring to my house as home. For her, it isn't. We are currently driving away from her home. To her, this is my house. It will never be home. I scold myself for my poor word choice.

      "Don't worry about making any tea, dear. I think once I'm done in the tub that I'm just going to go to bed. Don't trouble yourself."

      "Are you sure, grandma? It's not a trouble at all, and will only take a couple of minutes."

      "No, no. A towel and a nightgown will be just fine. You should think about getting some sleep yourself." I choose to ignore the implication that I look tired and run down. Mostly because I know it is the God-honest truth. I feel tired down to my bones.

      "You sure you don't want any tea? Or maybe a light snack or something?"

      "I could hardly eat a thing right now, honey."

      "Okay. We'll both head to bed, then. I'll fix breakfast in the morning. I think we'll have a long day ahead of us."

      "Why do you say that?"

       "Because we'll have to head out to the house tomorrow, you know, to see what's left." I regret the words almost as soon as I've said them. Too abrupt. They just popped right out. I've never been known for my tact. "Oh, grandma, I'm so sorry."

      "It's okay, dear. You're right. I'll have to face it one way or another. Might as well get it out of the way." She sounds drained and it seems to take a lot of effort for her to find her words. I know she is as exhausted as I am, although I am the only one of us who looks it. I do not know how she has made it through the night.

NaNoWriMo: Day 13

Still haven't hit the 25k mark.  So close I can taste it though.  Babysat my nephews last night and they were here until about one o'clock.  Have house guests coming in a few hours.  Had to cram in as much writing as I could before I have to go clean the house.  Two boys can leave quite a path of destruction in their wake.

17 more days to go.  I have managed to squeeze out my word count for today.  Dialogue sure adds a lot of pages, but doesn't really help the word count very much.  Hope you enjoy today's excerpt!

     I need to get her away from here. I know that if I do not force her, she will never leave. She will continue to watch as the house is reduced to ashes. I touch her lightly on the shoulder.

      "C'mon, grandma. Let's go back to my house."

       She is reluctant to leave, as I knew she would be. I begin to lead her over to my car, pulling her gently by the arm.

      "I'll make you some tea, grandma, and we can sit at the kitchen table and try to unwind a bit before going to bed."

      She does not even make an attempt at continuing the conversation. Instead, she begins to resist me and plants her feet firmly in the gravel. I stop pulling on her arm, fearing I may pop it out of socket if I do not let go. She looks at me and I see that her eyes are now moist, though her mouth is set in a firm line.

      "Please, just give me five more minutes. I promise, then, I'll be ready to go."

      Her voice wavers, and I can hear the anguish she is trying so hard not to show. How can I refuse such a simple request? I don't. I stand beside her for the entire five minutes. I might even throw in a few extra for good measure. This time, when I lead her to the car, she offers up no resistance.

      Once I have her settled into the passenger side of my silver Honda Civic, I climb behind the wheel. My grandmother's eyes are fixed on the passenger window, but I know she is really looking beyond the glass. I can see the house reflected in her eyes. She does not turn away until the house dips below the horizon and the darkness of the night swallows the glow of the flames.