Don't Say All When You Mean Some
Holy shit, batman...here's the news: Nanowrimo has started, and I'm in it to win it, baby. So I have 1672 words so far...that's pretty, um, insignificant, but I'm on target.
I've also set up my horrible excel sheet of doom:
http://spreadsheets.google.com/pub?key=pHPceuzKF5ZWdRxNg8D5DDQ
Please, check it out so you can see how SLOW I am and how the intestinal suckitude goes. My novel is titled "Don't Say All When You Mean Some" it's something I taught in class and it's quite hilarious. At any rate wish me luck.
After the jump I'll post every day a few lines for your utter amusement. Last novel I did, I haven't even re read the damn thing. But this one's for you people. Enjoy. Please don't laugh too loud.
Each time he sat down to write the letter, the object of his pain focus would change. Most of the time it was Elenna, who by now had moved on and was living with some guy she met in graduate school. Sometimes it was his mother who chided him for being single and while all her friends and the aunties were bringing home stellar girlfriends for their sons. Sometimes it was to his hot English TA in college who was just within reach, but he somehow failed to make a move because he was locked down with Elenna. Other days he feels like that letter needs to go to one person and only that person: himself. Most days he wants to write the letter to the therapist for 1) not giving him the drugs even though it’s not technically possible for her to do so, and 2) for giving him some silly ass letter to write that has taken him so far two years to even conceptualize.
On days like this, he still thinks he could fake an mental illness enough to try and get something for what ails him, but he’d rather be really crazy and get pills instead of fake crazy because fake crazy is too much work. Proud that he had this realization that he’s a lazy slacker with ambitions to get over this girl by medical means, James got up and went to the kitchen to fix himself another peanut butter and jelly sandwich. That letter, he thought to himself, will have to wait for later.
God that was horrible. More excerpts tomorrow! - Voodoo