Week 4 Report
Only 500 words this week. I’m up to 4,700 so far, which is…less than 10K. Good thing I’m on vacation next week! Here’s a bit of what I worked on in week 4:
Candles were scattered across the floor, only a few still lit while the others had been knocked over. A chalice of wine had spilled as well, leaving a dark stain splattered on the wood floor. In the middle of the mess slumped a figure, but it wasn’t Cara. Poppy recognized the yellow smiley face of a Nirvana t-shirt that was far too big for her brother’s lanky 15 year-old frame.
Week 3 Report
800 words this week. Here are some of them:
A strange energy buzzed beneath Gigi’s skin. Something had awakened within her yesterday, not only the joy of soil in her hands but also a restlessness that she couldn’t shake. Memories long buried pushed close to the surface, but instead of pulling her down into reveries of the past, as they often did, they crackled at her edges, sending pinpricks into her fingertips and scalp. She felt like an unearthed root, exposed and vulnerable, full of raw potential. It was the wrong time of year for newness. The darkest days of the year should be a time of reflection, of cleansing, purification, rest. And yet. Should a 91 year-old woman feel this way, as though an adventure were about to begin? She didn’t know whether to be excited or afraid.
Week Two Report
Ummmm…0 words :/
Week One Report
I managed to add 3,400 words of terribly messy first draft this week! Yay! Here’s a snippet:
“Please don’t read too much into this,” Poppy said, as though reading Laurel’s mind. “I promise I’m being cool-headed. I’m quite capable of a little divining without all of you getting worked up about it.”
What I Write
Laurel slipped in, closing the door silently behind her. She paused a moment, leaning her head against the door frame, so deep in thought she didn’t notice Poppy encircled by candles. Poppy wondered if she could hide the cake, and scanned the kitchen for a place to stash it, but she was too slow.
“Fuck,” whispered Laurel. She had her hand to her throat. She looked behind her, down the dark hallway that led to Gigi’s bedroom. The girls’ great-aunt was a light sleeper, prone to wandering the house in the wee hours, but her door remained closed and the house quiet.
Ah. Poppy had forgotten about the costume. She patted the red knit cap flattening her hair.
“I could ask you the same questions. Minus the radish bit.”
|What I Write||
Contemporary fantasy. Explores dark places but a sucker for a happy ending.
My fiction has appeared in Imaginarium 3: The Best Canadian Speculative Fiction, Shimmer, and On Spec.
My Write-a-thon Goals
I’d like to add 10K to my current novel in progress, which is basically Little Women meets Practical Magic.
I will gratefully accept donations of any amount.