GUYS! I AM OFFICIALLY TOO STUPID TO WRITE A 50,000 WORD NOVEL.
You’re all lovely people, so I am sure you will be full of words of encouragement, and whatnot – which is nice, but I can’t see how I am going to fit all of these pieces together…I am at 12,000 words now…not bad, huh? But the problem is I keep seeing it like a MOVIE in my head, not a novel…as in, I am picturing the big twist/reveal, in a very visual way…but it will take true skill (which I am lacking I feel) to make this gradually apparent. Authors out there, how…SERIOUSLY…HOW….HOW THE HELL DO YOU DO THIS?! Maybe I shouldn’t be going with such a crazy plot, that would certainly help.
Anyway, here’s a short excerpt, where my central character is hoping to meet up with someone who will shed more light on what is happening to him…
“As I blindly wheel myself around the corner I squint at my watch: 12:07. My desperation to meet him, far surpasses my need for petty breaths; but my legs feel like they may not be able to carry me any further…they’re weakened by a mixture of exhaustion, and groggy perspiration – but I mustn’t stop, I have to keep going. So I flit through the crowds in a zigzag motion, feeling like a pin-ball as I continually barge from right to left, to left to right.
As I shove past the Jesus man a stitch creeps into my lower abdomen, stabbing away in a ferocious flurry, punishing me for my urgency, sending a piercing shock-wave through my stomach, forcing my footsteps to stutter as I clutch a lump of flab through my shirt. As I slow down, the pain eases slightly.
I am fighting for air, but I will myself on – forcing my body to push past the agony…but as I lumber into another street, I nearly crash with a mound of man. He stands there stationary without a care in the world, puffing on a cheap cigarette, and relaying a story to the voice in his ear. His immense shoulders create a blockade of which I see no way around. He laughs, something about his mate, and he “couldn’t fucking believe it.”
“Errrr, erm, excuse me.”
“WHAT?!”
I do not offer a reply, instead I simply barge past the opening he has now made, slipping out to my freedom, hoping he is not giving any form of chase to my frail, worn out body.
Free from that monster I nip into a side street for the sake of a few precious seconds, but I’m greeted by a sea of shuffling bodies, aimlessly scuttling across the cobbles at a faltering speed, their dreary eyes fixed to the ankles in front of them. 12:09. I try to squirm my way free from this horrendous bottleneck but my efforts are in vain. I am reduced to one of the herd against my will, adopting the vacant stare and the half-arsed zombie walk of every other drone.
As I look down dejectedly I notice the odd socks of the man in front, as his slippers scuff the ground. Blue and green checks with yellow and red stripes? I wonder if it was on purpose, or maybe he’s colour blind, or…who knows? My mind wanders as I jar to another halt.
The monotonous crowd begins to wear on my sanity. My eyes flicker with rage as a hot wave flushes over me, overwhelming my entire body. I can’t take this much longer – I spy a small opening, and with impersonated athletic ability hop out in front of a mobility scooter, it’s far from graceful – and forces the lady to jam on the brakes, and curse my backside.. But I instinctively ignore her completely, avoiding eye contact, and skipping away as fast as I can possibly go.
As I come into a clearing, a riotous stream of cars and buses whirs and whizzes in front of me, their driver’s demonic stares fixed unrelentingly on the road. I flash my watch once more: 12:13. I press the button, and pray to anything that I will still make it. Surely he would wait? No one is on time…wait fifteen minutes, that’s the rule.
The red man is completely taking the piss, I mean…it certainly seems like forever as I stand here, just one of the masses, gawping with a blank stare at the light ahead, hypnotised by its uncompromising DON’T CROSS hue. I step out with impatience but a Land-Rover forces me off the road by way of a scream, and a shaking fist.
“Oh, fuck you!” I whisper halfheartedly, hoping he didn’t actually hear me.
I see him brandish his middle finger boldly, for the whole world to see…scarred with public embarrassment, I sink into myself.
The man flicks to green.”
(The novel has/is going in a VERY weird direction…I don’t want to share too much, and spoil it – so this is a pretty light-hearted bit I felt wouldn’t hurt to release!)
Good luck to the other Nanowrimo writers out there!
John Lee Taggart 
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