It’s quiet in my writer’s office.
Too quiet.
Lights are on, so she must be here. I close the back door to the office and hang up my flannel jacket. From this vantage I can’t see the recliners, but I suspect she’s tucked away in one of them. I have to say, she’s been doing quite well during NaNo.
The trick will be keeping it up once November is over.
“I know you’re here.”
I lean against her desk. As I suspected, she’s sitting in one of the recliners, footrest out, laptop on her lap (go figure!). Today she’s wearing a sweatshirt with a silhouette of a dragon filled with bookshelves that makes the surprisingly accurate claim: Easily distracted by dragons and books. The rest of her wardrobe is the usual sweatpants and god-know-how-many-pairs of socks.
“I’m glad to see you working so diligently, love.”
She leans her head back. “I’ll hit my fifty thousand words, which is good. The worst part is knowing I won’t be done with the story by the end of the month.”
“When has that ever stopped you?” As soon as I said it, a handful of occasions came to mind. “Don’t answer that.”
“Normally I would just keep going until I got to the end of the story. That’s usually another couple weeks,” she says. “This year I have another book to work on. I need to turn it in by the end of March for my writing certificate.”
“Ah, but do you?” I ask, well aware why her writing teacher gave her a specific deadline. Writers like deadlines. It helps them actually finish a project. At least it helps my writer.
“Yes. I’m going to try, anyway. I told my writing teacher I could do it.”
I know she’ll make sure she has her assignment done to turn in by the end of March. She’s gone through two revisions already, so the next one should be easier in a lot of ways. Plot issues have been ironed out by now.
“What about this project, love?” I ask. “You’ve made a lot of progress. And you learned you can make a go of writing scenes without going from the beginning of the story to the end chronologically.”
“This story works well that way,” she says.
“I’m sure the technique will work for other stories.”
She doesn’t look convinced. “Maybe. It works with the dual timelines because the story isn’t told in one long pass. It switches between the past and the present. I’m not sure how that would work with other stories.”
I cross the office to sit in the other recliner. “Think about it. Besides, what is a story? It’s a series of scenes, right?”
“Yes,” she says, “but there are transitions … Which I have to write anyway no matter what technique I use.”
“Bottom line, love, do what works for you for the story. You know I’m always here to help.”
“Not just to loom and give me dirty looks?”
“Har, har.” Though I haven’t had to “loom” for the past few months. I even packed away my fedora and bullwhip. I haven’t had to go full “Indiana Jones” on her for, wow, a long time. Not that I haven’t come close. Sometimes it works for her, sometimes it doesn’t. I have a grumpy dragon I can call on to help when she gets really stubborn.
“I’m here to inspire and encourage you, love. Now, get back to work.”
She sighs, but gets back to writing.
One more week of NaNo. It’s been a good month, but I think I’m going to have to give E a call. I’ll be ready for a pub crawl when this is over. We’ll go Down Under, though. Their pubs will be open. The ones here in the States will likely be closed by then. Besides, I haven’t been home in a while. It’ll be nice break.
Keep writing!
