Passed the NaNo 50000 target by November 22. Averaged over 2200 words a day to do that. I hit my stride by the end of week two. I did push harder this year by making sure there were no under 2000 days that first week then poured it on. Final total for this year 53000.
The one thing I can say helped is music. Old. New. Things I didn’t expect got my fingers moving to have my characters do things I didn’t expect. Another blogger (hi Cassidy ) included what music they were using in their blogs posts, but mine would be too repetitious. I found myself going back to the same lps hen I got stuck. Prime being Archie Bell and The Drells: Tighten Up. One I never could have predicted. I relied on Question Mark & the Mysterians, Count Five, Coltrane & Mozart. I did add some brand new things as I went along: The Red Army Chorus; Gaga’s ArtPop, Capital Cities.
The sessions at the Red Rocket were productive for me, but, sadly, no one showed up after the first Friday, so I probably won’t be doing that next year. Maybe the Rocket was too busy or I was too focused on NaNo to make it more of a social event.
I can’t say conclusively if the binaural beats and inductions helped or not but I was more focused this year so I won’t dismiss them either. I’ll be happy to give them a rest though & get back to my usual iPod playlists. The peppermint therapy – again who knows, but I sure smelled good. Using the body wash before sitting down to write was a cleansing ritual that put my subconscious in the right frame for productivity, a good thing.
The various twitter feeds for NaNo were more distracting that inspiring so will give them a miss next year. Pep talks were diverting but were aimed more at first year NaNo-ers. Will I do NaNo next year? For sure. I already have an idea work on.
But first I have to be ready for Festive Trash at Cabaret Noir.
November 1-30 – participating – NaNoWriMo
November 28 – Thursday – attending – The Beautiful & The Damned
December 8 – Sunday – Featuring – Festive Trash at Cabaret Noir
Dec 15 – Sunday – attending – The Bazaar Bizarre: Frost Bite 2013
June 6-8, 2014 – attending – Bloody Words
(continuation of scene posted friday)
Lillian didn’t trust his aspect of Steven. She instinctively knew the face he had shown her the first few times they had met was the real one. He had the quick mind and language of a politician. The sort her father taught her who would find what it took to appear he was being honest, when in fact he was waiting merely to get what he wanted. Whether that was your vote, your money or … she shuddered to think of giving her heart to him.
“Thank you, Mr. O’Dowell. Do you think there’ll be a break soon in this dead-lock between the miners and The BritCanada Coal Company?”
“No.The BritCanada Coal Company’s Foxing won’t even talk with the minister of labour. As far as they’re concerned there is nothing to discuss. Either miners accept their terms or find work else where. Why he even refused to discuss matters with the Federal Minster of Labour. Told the Prime Minister’s office, that as far as he was concerned the miners weren’t as bad off as they claimed. It was all just a play for public sympathy. Something those Bolshi agitators have conspired to do in their plot to take down the nation.”
“Take down the nation? These men? These people?”
“Sounds ludicrous but when Foxing wants to shut the government up that’s all he has to say. That and his bottom line.”
“Is there a solution?”
“Not one that’ll undo the damage done, I’m afraid. These miners don’t trust the government or even their union anymore. Can’t say as I blame them. Change is in the air though. Elections coming up. I’m pretty sure Armstrong won’t get back in.”
Lillian wasn’t interested in the political situation. She only kept this conversation going to keep Steven at arms length. As much as she felt pity for the miners she only wanted to find some way to get herself out of where she was, off this God-forsaken island and back to civilization.
“Thank you for walking me home Mr. O’Dowell.” They had come to the front walk of the O’Dowell home. “Thank you, also for taking me in when you did.”
“I was grateful that we had a way to atone to you for my ungentlemanly behaviour when we first met Miss McTavish. I know now that I was mistaken about the nature of your character. Even if what James Dunham said was true he was sorely mistaken about you.”
“Thank you again Mr. O’Dowell.” She went into the house and up to her room. As much as she had been resisting it, she was being to feel at home in New Castleton. The local’s had never failed to extend a hand of welcome to her, even though it was not always returned. She hadn’t expected to forge any bonds with with anyone while she was here because she wanted to believe she was only here temporarily.
If she could find a way to leave she would without a moment of regret. She couldn’t think of a soul she would miss or who she expected would miss her either.
She looked at herself in the mirror. Other than her hands she had maintained her looks. Perhaps she had been mistaken with Birk, perhaps she was better off trying for a man whom she knew found her attractive. Steven had made no secret of that, he had even apologized for expressing his interest.
He wasn’t unattractive and his glad-hand manners weren’t that disagreeable. Her mother had told her that everyman needs a woman to make man out of him. Steven certainly had potential and what he father might call ‘good prospects.’
She loosened her hair and let it down. The evening sun behind her made it look like a small blaze in the mirror. It was slightly snarled from being coiled in a braid for the day. She rarely wore it down outside of her room. She brushed it slowly. The curl would need her hot iron to flatten out but the curl suited her. She put a small dab of pomade in her hands and with her fingers brushed it through the curls. She shook it out. The pale green shawl would be ideal.
She washed her hands, put the shawl around her shoulders and made sure her hair lay on it perfectly. She went down to the living-room. Steven and Clara were sitting opposite each other deep in a conversation which ended when she came into the room.
“Lillian!” Clara smiled. “Your hair! I don’t think I’ve ever seen it in it’s full glory.”
“I’ve always found it best to keep it protected, covered when I’m working in the kitchen or the garden or out of the house.” she glanced at Steven to see his reaction.
“A shame to hide it.” Steven’s eyes shone with appreciation.
“Thank you.” Why had she ever considered marrying one of the miners? That would only have discomforted her uncle for a short time but leave her anchored here in this miserable place forever. Steven travelled to Halifax, sometimes to Montreal and even to Boston.
“You’ve spend a pleasant day Lillian?’ Clara asked.
“In some ways. One of the miner’s children I’ve been teaching died.”
“It’s always sad when a child dies.” Clara shook her head.
“Yes. Sadder is how accustomed to it the families have become.” Lillian let her head droop a little so her hair would fall off her shoulders. Pushing it back she straighten up. “I don’t think I could ever bear to lose a child.”
She caught Steven’s eye and held it for a moment, then looked away as if shy. Her heart was racing.
“Hopefully you never will.” Clara stood and stepped between them.
Lillian stood and went to the door of the living room. She quickly coiled her hair, took a couple of hair pins out her pocket and pinned it up. “I’ll go and see if Aileen needs any help in the kitchen.”
She went part way down the passage to the kitchen and leaned against the wall. Her spirits soared. She was sure now that if she had found the solution to everything.
Steven came into the foyer. He saw her leaning against the wall.
“Miss McTavish!”
“Oh, Mr O’Dowell!” She leaned into his shoulder crying. “It has been a most difficult day. Most difficult. I don’t think I could have faced these past few weeks without the kindness you and your sister have shown me.”
The first thing she would have to do is have him stop wearing that over-powering bay rum scent he was so fond of.
that after NaNoWriMo feeling
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