Back to Business

Now that the retail hell of Black Friday is over, I can relax a little and get back to writing. My final NaNo word count wasn't impressive. But I still got a lot of writing done that I might (probably would) not have without the challenge of NaNoWriMo.
But a drive home from work the other day, had me developing another story. I'm aiming for short story on this one, and at the moment, it's loudest in my brain so it's being written while the other is being placed on the back burner.
I spent Monday being lazy and trying to recover a little from the previous week/weekend of work. Then Tuesday I spent with a friend and did a little Christmas shopping for this years Christmas Angel program, and then we got pedicures and went back to my place for gingerbread house decorating and Gilmore Girls bingeing (or is that binging?) Once again, I was lazy yesterday but my brain was working in earnest at this point, trying to suss out some of the details of this short story. And then today while working, the outline for the opening scene came to me and I had a blueprint for the beginning.
I just finished writing it and I must say I am super pleased.
I'm finding myself wanting to write more short stories. Not because it's easier, because in a lot of ways it isn't. No, it's partly due to the sheer number of ideas that are forever bouncing around in my brain. I wish there was a way to file them all away so that I could find them for later use. Sometimes I write down the basic idea but not always. And then the idea, what would have maybe made a good story, ends up lost in the static of my mind.
I've also been watching Black Mirror on Netflix. The first one was kind of meh, but each one after has gotten better. I like these short little forays into a fictional world, that hits you in the head or heart, or both, and leaves you wanting more. There's something so satisfying about this form of story telling, to me. It could be because I grew up watching shows like Tales From the Darkside, The Twilight Zone, and Outer Limits. Also, as an anime watcher, I find that I like that type of anime most often above others. I started watching Mushishi and though each story is linked by Ginko and the Mushi, each story is different--little stories that  make big impacts.

Where was I going with this?
I have no clue now.
My brain, people. This is my brain.
Anyway, I have no NaNo word count to announce anymore. But I can still be proud of what I accomplish outside of that competition.
Today's word count: 2,068
Today's excerpt:
Tom takes the red plastic gas can into his right hand, and takes her right hand with his left. 
“We don’t have too far to go, but keep it slow.”
“I know, I know. Don’t worry, there’s no hurry left in this body anyway.”
Tom smiles down at his soul mate. In spite of the same old complaints, the weakening bodies, and the long years, his love for her is the one thing that never fades. They were meant to be and they will be meant to be for an eternity.
He pulls her close, sheltering her from the wind as much as he can, and they support each other as they push against the strong wind. They lean forward a little, looking as if a strong enough gust will knock them both over. Though, despite their appearance, there is still quite a bit of strength left in them.
It isn’t long before a dark sedan pulls up alongside the road. Tom and Gladys turn toward the car but step back a couple paces. Being careful is rule number one in these situations. 
The passenger window rolls down and the driver leans forward over the empty passenger seat. A person on their own is an instant disqualification and Gladys deflates a little. She knew better than to hope the first one would be able to offer assistance.
“A bit cold for a walk this morning, isn’t it folks?”
Tom instantly doesn’t like the way to man speaks to them. He can sense the placating tone-that just because the couple appears old that they are feeble of mind as well.
Tom smiles at the man, “Nah, it’s refreshing and good for the circulation.”
The man blasts out one large laugh. Tom grits his teeth. “Why don’t you let me give you a lift to the gas station anyway?” 
“No. No, thank you,” Tom tells him and tugs Gladys’ hand a little to nudge her forward. 
The man frowns a little as the two turn away and then shrugs his shoulders. 
“Whatever you say, you old coot.”
The sedan window rolls up and the man steps on the gas pedal so hard the car spins in the dirt, spraying the elderly couple before the tire catches and the car shoots off.
“Asshole,” Gladys says and she brushes herself off.
“You get his plate?”
“Yeah, I got it,” she tells Tom.
“Good. We’ll need it later.”
The two resume their walk, fighting into the wind. 


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