but I’ve got a word count quota
from NaNoWriMo writing today:
(I don’t mind posting this because I’m almost 100% sure I’ll be completely editing this)
I went somewhere and I ended up there. There were trees and people, but it was quiet (and the author has no idea what is happening but she think it’s better to say what could be happening but might not be in actual words rather than rjeah diea fiel siwhs fiew (i.e. random typing); grammar can and sentence clarity can be revised later, i.e. if a sentence as she’s writing it doesn’t sound right, it’s all right to leave it alone in its illogical confusion for later).
The mist (which isn’t there) dispersed as the sun rose over the forest. The golden rays fell over the tiles of the houses and warmed/lit up the courtyard (which isn’t what it is).
I went to the place where I find the person I’m going to talk to in the next section that’s been written a few spaces below. I don’t know where it is. It is inside, possibly dark-ish, small, quiet. I may talk to someone else first before I talk to Zemma. Somehow I end up talking to her. It is still morning. The space is small. There may be sunlight streaming through a window. The window is glass but there’s a crack it in (maybe?). The swaying (but there’s no wind is there?) golden orange red autumn trees.
I sit or talk and there’s (maybe) a conversation. Something something, the author doesn’t know what the tone of the scene is. The setting is crowded. There is old ropes piled up, maybe crates but still no idea where this place is. It is a very hazy place. Now I sit down. Zemma asks something. I say something back. There’s talk about Famina’s party. How she cares about appearances. And something else. I mention something, maybe the silverware because I don’t think I’d say right away that I talked to the ghost of her sister. Little trickles of information on her sister leak out. There is a silence (or not). And then: