I stayed up to write, to get a jump start the moment NaNoWriMo began.
I have only written 640 words in the 1.5 hours I’ve been writing,
but considering the variables (the finicky Pandora station, the fragmented sentences trying to make it from my brain to the page, the chat messages begging to be read every few minutes) I’d say it’s a good start, especially for a sunlight-dependent girl writing in the dead of night.
Even more exciting (and motivating) than the 640 words was the plot hole I sewed shut. Or, rather, will sew shut, as soon as I get to that scene. But I found the information my characters were begging for, and the story is plodding on in that direction —
and so with that, goodnight.
Or, rather, good morning.
There’s been “A Spot” every semester of my college-life. First semester at BC it was a specific little study room tucked away in a back corner, and it moved to the second floor of the library the following Spring. I still remember early mornings, curled up in the rolling-chairs as I waited for the Curly Haired Wonder to meet me for a healthy dose of groggy laughter.
That was when I lived inside of my head, when my life was small because I kept it small. My heart was protected with revolving doors, admitting only a select few. When the only friends I had could fit into the backseat of my car, and that was fine because they were the only ones I wanted.
And then The Spot moved again, to the opposite side of the library’s second floor. To the square orange chairs and the long tables. To a dozen different faces straying in and out of the picture, to coffee cups and taco wrappers and coloring books and computer chargers strewn across that strange little egg-shaped table.
Then I was on my own again, floating between the courtyard and the fountains and the Writing Center, not really spending time on campus because there wasn’t really a reason to. Because things fell apart, you know. But I think that things were supposed to. Now wouldn’t be right if things hadn’t happened exactly the way they did.
I don’t have A Spot at UH. Because The Spot is wherever I’m happy, wherever I am with good people who make me laugh and who bounce off of my strange humor. Who tease me mercilessly about the stories I’ve told, who laugh when I roast them, who recognize boundaries and stop when they are still far away from even toeing the line.
I feel a little sappy, I guess, because this is my favorite time of year. It’s November 1st, the start of NaNoWriMo, the beginning of the re-enactments, the start of the holiday season. Because my heart is beating wildly and the joy is so incomprehensible.
Basically, today was great. ‘Cause work was awesome, and now I’m curled up in my bed with a big bowl of popcorn and a cup of my favorite tea with my NaNoWriMo document open and my favorite writing buddies messaging me in a group chat between writing sprints.
It’s the basically the best.
Also. I’m officially on track for word count,
granted it’s day one, so it’s not hard.