Nanowrimo

Well, it is official, I have lost my mind. I have decided not to join the 30 day blog challenge. No. That would be too easy. Instead I am participating in the 30 day writing challenge called Nanowrimo. The challenge is to write 50,000 words in November. Hey, that's only 1667 words a day (give or take), how hard can it be?

I have often toyed with the idea of writing a novel (or short story) and it seemed I was getting messages from here, there, and everywhere to join in the 'fun'.

I have a couple of cheerleaders (both called Wendy), and my buddy Judy who is joining me in this challenge.

So it is official. We are both out of our minds.

I will be posting excerpts here from time to time.

Like this:

White Rabbit.
The first words passed her lips as she became aware of herself.
White Rabbit.
The clock glowed 8. 3. 4.
It was an auspicious moment. She was not superstitious. At least that is what she would tell anyone who cared to listen - but she did believe that uttering those two words on the first of a new month would protect her throughout the days to follow.
She first heard about White Rabbit when she was a young university student. At 19 she was sent on a practicum, every Tuesday, to a kindergarten on the campus of the university she was attending.
She remembered walking from the bus to the school through the rustling dried brown autumn leaves.
She remembered the outfit she was wearing - a diagonally striped a-line skirt with an over-sized aran sweater that tied with a belt about her waist.
She vaguely remembers the children, or the teacher - but she remembers her love of being there - in the classroom, surrounded my the little ones.
And she remembers White Rabbit.
The practicum had started on November 1. The young teacher had asked her if she had said white rabbit when she awoke, before uttering anything else.
What? This was a superstition she had never heard before. She knew about throwing salt over your left shoulder if you tipped over the salt shaker at the dinner table.
She knew about knocking on wood if you said something that was tempting fate. She knew about responding to a sneeze with God Bless You.
But White Rabbit was new to her, and although she first had heard of it forty years ago it still throbbed in her brain whenever she awoke on the first of a month.
Of course, it was rare she remembered.
Very rare.
And maybe that was the problem.

So stay tuned - 1702 words down, 48,298 to go