NaNoWriMo

AKA

National Novel Writing Month

AKA

November

AKA

This is going down in 2.5 days.

Basically, yours truly will be writing (or, trying to write) a 50,000 word novel in thirty days.

AKA

Approximately 1,700 words a day.

Which means late nights, extra coffee, and no time for writer's block.

Sounds fun, right?

It also means, though, that you will be seeing less of me in the coming month, although I'll probably still try to post weekly, and possibly snippets of my story...but no promises.

For now, here is something that I wrote today for the writing program I'm in.

I peek around the corner, curious about what in the world is going on in room 203. I hear hushed voices and feet scuffling, but nothing more. I’m about to walk away but I hear one clear word. My name. I shuffle closer to the door, hoping to hear more, but I realize that they weren't just saying my name. They were calling me.

            I slowly walk into the room. I survey the large space, which is filled with tables, which are covered with intricate layouts of the building. What is going on in here?  I think to myself. As if he could read my thoughts, the boy nearest to me clears his throat and says, “I’m sure you’re wondering what we’re doing in here.”

            I nod, and as I do so, I catch sight of my best friend, Kim, her cheeks flushed red. I send her a questioning look that says what are you hiding from me? She only looks towards the floor, with the slightest shake of her head. Now I’m more than curious. I feel betrayed. Betrayed that my best friend, of all people, would keep a secret from me.

            I turn to leave, as the boy has yet to give me an answer, when I hear Kim’s soft voice. “Wait.”

            I consider walking out, but turn around anyway.

            The same boy from before steps forward again. “You really have no clue what this is?”

            I shake my head.

            The boy sighs and pulls something out of his pocket. He hands it to me, and I recognize it as  a brochure for the school. Exasperated, I prepare to walk out again, but I realize something different about it. Instead of saying “school for the gifted”, it reads “school for spies”. I look up, confused, and see a slow grin spread across every face in the room.

The End! 

 I like writing about spies, by the way, just in case you hadn't caught on to that yet...