We are coming to the end of NaNoWriMo. I’d surprise myself immensely if I manage the full 50,000 words by Monday midnight. The experience, though, has been fruitful if not completely successful. I’ve gotten a few story starts, anecdotes, character filling out and understanding of what it is I am trying to say in my novel. There are decisions to be made. Directions have to be chosen, because when you are writing about three generations there are too many distractions and side roads to wander and take you far away from the point, the point, that is, that you think you are trying to make. Since I usually write works that are shorter than a novel, much shorter, my learning curve has been steep.
Here is one fictional scene of what developed during my exercise of NaNo:
The side board in the dining room has rings. Concentric circles from sweated glasses left there, bare bottomed or through flimsy coasters that couldn’t do the job.
