Two thousand, four hundred, and seventy-six. Words that is. Yes, you read it right. I've broken 2,000 again today! I'm a fiction writing machine! It's amazing what a little pressure, and the motivation of a large group of people doing the same mad thing that you are, can do for a person. And I'm so excited about my story. I wrote some real crap today, but there are some good parts in there, too, I think.
Here's an excerpt from my write-fest this evening:
Now two of those boxes were pressing against Sara’s stomach from the inside of her purse, waiting to tell her the future, while she sat in her lawyer’s office where in just a few moments she was supposed to sign and file divorce papers.
Whatever Mr. Fitzgerald was saying now, Sara interrupted. “I’m sorry,” she said, standing abruptly. “I just remembered that I have another appointment. Can we reschedule?” She was already heading toward the door. “I’ll call you tomorrow to set up a new appointment. I’m sorry.”
Sara turned the doorknob that she was now holding and forced a smile in Mr. Fitzgerald’s direction. He looked so completely taken aback that he didn’t say a word.
The pregnancy test lay on the edge of the sink. Sara could see it from where she was sitting on the edge of her bed. It had been there for almost an hour. She couldn’t bring herself to look at it.
When she had burst through the kitchen and headed straight up the stairs with energy that she hadn’t demonstrated in ages, Steve came running from his office. “Are you ok?” he called after her. She hadn’t answered him. She couldn’t answer him. How do you tell the person you are planning to leave that you might be having his baby? Again. So soon after he’s killed the last one.
Now remember, don't judge too harshly--it's a first draft and they're allowed to be shitty, ok?
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