November 25, 2001
I wrote over 7,000 words
I wrote over 7,000 words today. I'm a little awed by that. Not only am I now caught up, but I'm about a thousand words ahead of schedule. This is a good thing, because starting tomorrow I'm working ten hour days. The scary thing is to realize that in another 7,000 words, the amount I wrote today, I'll have reached 50,000! Sara and A.J. met each other tonight, and what an eventful meeting it was! I couldn't type fast enough to keep up with them. Of course, now my fingers feel like they're going to fall off. Here's an excerpt from earlier today, Sara again. She's just more interesting to excerpt than anyone else, apparently.
Once back in her room, Sara fell into a deep sleep almost immediately, a combined result of the long day and the beer she'd had. For the first time since leaving the Institute she dreamed of the crying baby that always showed up in her pictures. She was washing dishes at the truck stop, and above the noise of the cooks and truckers outside, she heard the sound of a baby. At first she just figured it was one of the customers' children, but the sound went on and on, and grew in intensity until the cries were drilling into her skull. Sara stopped washing dishes and started looking for the child. When she looked into the dining room, there were no children to be seen at all, and the sound seemed to get fainter, coming from behind her.
Turning back to the kitchen, the angry cries grew louder, as if the child was impatient for Sara to find it. In the confused manner of dreams, Sara began looking in the cupboards, pushing aside institutional-sized cans of green beans and tomatoes. Part of her mind went back to her drawings of the infant and his often surreal surroundings. Finally after looking in all of the cupboards and under all of the sinks, Sara made her way back to the walk-in refrigerator on the other side of the kitchen. She swung open the door, expecting a cold rush of air to wash over her in a wave of white frost.
Instead the scent of loam and green life filled her nostrils. Sara looked closer, and where shelves of salad vegetables and defrosting meat and open cans of ketchup and mayonnaise should be was instead a deep, growing forest framed by the stainless steel doorway. From the depths of the forest, she could hear the infant crying louder, as if letting her know she was getting closer.
"Sara, Sara, Sara," Eochaid's cold voice sounded behind her, gently reproachful. "There's nothing there for you."
Sara whirled to find her surroundings changed once more. Instead of the truck stop of her dream, she was standing in the white room with Eochaid towering before her. She glanced behind her, but the doorway to the forest was gone.
Posted by Lisa at November 25, 2001 10:40 PMWeird! My NaNo-novel's main character had dreams about trying to find crying babies too... Is it that common a dream? Do you have any idea?
Posted by: marrije at November 26, 2001 05:46 AMI think it might be, actually. I know I've had it before. :)
Posted by: Lisa Nichols at November 26, 2001 06:31 AMAnd I always thought it was just me... When the novel is done I must do some research into it, perhaps pick up Jung at the library. Or some new age book. What does it mean? Will find out, as soon as I am allowed in a library again.
Posted by: marrije at November 26, 2001 11:02 AMHi This site is great
Posted by: Fetish at May 24, 2006 03:24 PM