I haven’t added many words, but that’s okay, right?
If I apologise to you all that I’ve not added any more than 3364 words to my NaNoWriMo novel, I’ll be honest, it’s not really going to work. But if I apologise to my inner writer for being a lazy bum, then I’m sure I’ll feel a little ashamed and disappointed.
Fortunately for me, though, I haven’t been a lazy bum – the reason I haven’t paid much attention to my work-in-progress novel, 30 Days, is because I’ve had to write 2500-word essay about whether men and women read literature in the same way. Not really my thing, and let’s face it, I’m not an academic writer. Anyway, preparing and writing that essay has taken a huge chunk of my time. However, dawn is finally here, as with my essay now submitted, I can crack on with my pos-apocalyptic novel again! Three cheers for me! Come on, I can’t see you jumping and clapping at my pleasant turn of events! 😛
All jokes aside, this week I’m hoping to reach the 35k mark – even with uni starting up again (this week was reading week) I’m determined to do it! Has anyone else faced similar problems, or even just hit a bump in the road or writer’s block? Write in the comments below and share it all with the Writer’ Cabinet community; a problem shared is a problem halved.
Here is the second extract of my novel. Hopefully you enjoy it, but maybe you won’t – just tell me why either way! See you all next week. 🙂
30 Days Extract (Chapter Three)
The rain was so severe that Abraham literally thought that buckets full to the brim with freezing water were being dropped frantically from the black sky. The wind howled like a pack of hungry wolves and the cold bit into his flesh like thousands of spiders. He screamed uselessly, crying for someone to help. It was obvious that no one would come, but it was the only thing he could do. Going onwards was not an option, as the storm would rip him to pieces if he didn’t find shelter soon, and going back to where he just came from…
The grass was squelching beneath his feet and the mud coated itself onto his boots – they were already ruined. He stumbled on a few more steps, although every step he did take was sapping a large part of his strength and will. Lifting a trembling hand from his coat pocket, he felt his face. Freezing. In this state he could be dead within minutes. The water had already soaked into every possible dry area, making him quiver with cold. It was hopeless.
Hurtling to the ground, tears from his eyes began to mix into the rain, just like that Warden with his cut leg. The Warden.
What have I done?
His eyes were getting heavy; he struggled to stay awake.
‘I can’t sleep,’ he yelled to himself. ‘I must stay awake, I must go on…’
But what was the point in going on? He already knew that it would be a wasted effort. So why did he have to continue forwards? Suddenly sleep felt far more important and satisfying, and his head drooped; his eyes gradually closed, and within a minute his body was lying face-down in the mud and waterways of rain.