I am attempting this alongside my students because I don't think it would be very fair to expect them to do something I had never done. Besides, I would be envious if they had won NaNoWriMo and I hadn't.
Once again, I am discovering that I don't think in plots. I think in places. Sometimes I can think in people. I think in images, in abstract notions, and even in sound. But plot is beyond me. So we will see how it goes. These students! They think in plots! I am so envious.
So, the first scene that I write is my character on the cold Oregon beach in a wetsuit, thinking about entering the water despite her mother having forbidden it. She doesn't go in, but that's not the problem. I kind of like the scene, except that my character is a double amputee and is on the beach with her sand wheelchair with huge ridiculous plastic wheels. She wakes up from a nap on the sand, and has a few moments with her two dogs, and... how the hell does she get off the beach? Her single mother can't afford a motorized sand wheelchair. She probably had to rent the sand wheelchair she has. Who the heck pushed her out onto the sand, and how is she getting back home after these solitary moments on the beach? Perhaps I'll have to turn it into a dream. Damn it. Leave it to me. This is what I'm talking about.
At any rate, my word count is 1880. Woo-Hoo!
Once again, I am discovering that I don't think in plots. I think in places. Sometimes I can think in people. I think in images, in abstract notions, and even in sound. But plot is beyond me. So we will see how it goes. These students! They think in plots! I am so envious.
So, the first scene that I write is my character on the cold Oregon beach in a wetsuit, thinking about entering the water despite her mother having forbidden it. She doesn't go in, but that's not the problem. I kind of like the scene, except that my character is a double amputee and is on the beach with her sand wheelchair with huge ridiculous plastic wheels. She wakes up from a nap on the sand, and has a few moments with her two dogs, and... how the hell does she get off the beach? Her single mother can't afford a motorized sand wheelchair. She probably had to rent the sand wheelchair she has. Who the heck pushed her out onto the sand, and how is she getting back home after these solitary moments on the beach? Perhaps I'll have to turn it into a dream. Damn it. Leave it to me. This is what I'm talking about.
At any rate, my word count is 1880. Woo-Hoo!
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