Tag Archives: writing challenges

Camp NaNoWriMo, Week 4

It’s the final countdown (80’s synth sounds go here)!

I crushed it last weekend with a 5K day and a 3K day to put me over the top and into winner land. Unfortunately, since then I’ve kind of let the story languish. I really need to finish it, though. I have a book to edit, an entirely different book to write before November (!!!) and I really need to re-edit my Spring 2019 book.

I had a great weekend last weekend and while I won’t hit 40K, I still did the thing. I’ll write a debriefing on August 1st and hopefully have some fun news this week!


Camp NaNoWrimo, Week Two


This week was so much better. Now that I’ve started writing Absence instead of forcing myself to edit, I’m flying through the words. Last night I hit 10K words and I’m planning on spending the weekend getting back on track. It’s such a relief, especially after not completing the April session of Camp, and I’m really enjoying writing it.

My very first NaNoWriMo was that was from the start. I loved the characters, partially because one of them was a character from my journal, and even though the story was terrible I had fun and showed myself that I could really write a whole novel in a month. I have every confidence that I’ll be able to finish in November. In fact, I’m looking forward to it.

I also started putting Absence on Wattpad and, unsurprisingly, it hasn’t gotten many reads. I don’t think I was really expecting anything else, as the majority of people who hang out on Wattpad are teens, but it’s there.

Now, back to Emily and Hunter!

Camp NaNoWrimo, Week One


This week was an abject failure. I’m not ashamed to say it, we’ve all lived the struggle. Nothing seemed right this week and it was all just kind of off because of the holiday, craziness at work. Historically, when I get stressed I start writing fanfiction as a way to de-stress. Since my current two fandoms are Gotham and The Flash, nothing felt right again. I tried a writing prompt, big ol’ goose egg.

Then, inspiration struck.

As I posted yesterday, I started writing something that has so far flowed from my fingertips beautifully. I went to the Camp site, changed my project to a novella with a goal of 30K, and started The Absence of Intellect.

Currently, I’ve only got about 2000 words but I think I can get this finished by the end of the month! And as an added bonus, you’ll end up reading a complete novella for free. Everybody wins!

I also slapped together a little banner for Absence so the posts don’t look so plain. Please don’t make fun of it, I made it in about an hour and I am definitely not a graphic designer.


Pack Up The Tent


As of about ten minutes ago, I am officially a Camp NaNoWriMo 2016  winner! My validated total is 43, 683 and a big part of me feels like I should have set it for the full 50,000 words but when I started this month I planned to have it help me finish a novella. Now it’s helped me almost finish a novel.

I donated $25 this session after donating $10 in November, so I get a couple of swanky stickers to add to my November sticker on my computer. It’s funny, I was so against putting stickers on my computer before, now I’m plastering them all over. Only the writing related ones, though.

I still have a little ways to go on this one but I can definitely see it hitting the full 50K by the time the sun sets on April. There are three big plot points that need to be wrapped up and it’ll be at least two or three more chapters. My characters, Chelsea and Marc, have been through a rough time and things are finally looking up for them. For now.

This is definitely going to be my next book for Booktrope and I hope everyone enjoys it as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it. Now what the heck am I going to write in November?

It’s Camping Time!

CNW_ParticipantI am super excited to tell you that I am participating in Camp NaNoWriMo this year! I had so much fun last year in November that I thought this would be a great opportunity for me to get a project finished that I can’t get out of my head.

You can set your own word goal for Camp so I went with a nice 20,000 word goal, thinking that the project I’m working on would be about 30-40,000 words, and I already had about 15,000 written. Unfortunately (or fortunately!) this project looks like it’s going to be a full-length novel so I bumped up my goal to a slightly more ambitious 30,000 words.

Once again, I’m having a ton of fun. I’ve met new people and participated in the first night of the NaNoHouseCup, representing Ravenclaw of course! The project is coming along nicely – I’m at 10% of my goal already – and hopefully I’ll have it finished by the end of April so I can focus on finishing the pirate project that I am woefully behind on.

I’ll keep you updated on both projects as I write them and maybe have a little bit of an excerpt in the coming weeks. For now, I’m heading back to the word mines to see if I can get a little more writing in!


Tasha wasn’t expecting a client, so when the door to her office opened her head snapped up from her work. She was just about to snarl at whoever had disturbed her when she saw it was her assistant. He knew better, so if he had opened the door it had to have been important. Before she could ask what he needed, her most notorious client stepped into the office and shot her the smile that had charmed thousands of moviegoers and one carefully curated jury.

“I brought you a gift,” Taylor said, holding up a bulging paper sack. Tasha held back a sigh. Whenever a client brought her a gift there was a decent chance it was going to be unimaginative. At best.


“Even better.” With a flourish, he pulled a plastic bag out of the paper one. It was a little over halfway filled with water and contained a single jewel-bright fish. Its rounded body was made slightly pointed by its fins and it stared at Tasha with a crafty orange eye.

“You brought me a fish.”

“I brought you a cichlid,” Taylor corrected maddeningly. Tasha narrowed her eyes at him, a moment away from telling him that she knew what a cichlid looked like, something that should have been obvious from the decoration in her office. “He wasn’t cheap, either.”

“They rarely are,” Tasha said, accepting the fish from him before he dropped the damn thing. She wasn’t about to admit it but she didn’t want to see even a single fish harmed. Clients had been offended when she refused to accompany them to extravagant sushi restaurants but she couldn’t think of anything more upsetting than sitting beside a beautifully aquascaped tank and eating fish. She turned the bag around and examined the fish. “You are aware this is a semi aggressive fish, right?”

“You mean it’s going to kill the other fish?” The look of surprise on Taylor’s face told her that she’d caught him completely off guard, and the balance in her office was immediately restored. Tasha raised an eyebrow at him.

“Does that bother you?”

“Not really. Everything has to die sometime.” It was exactly what she’d expected from him, and there was no point in commenting on it. He turned away from her and examined the tanks, his blue eyes stopping on each of the fish. Some of them stared petulantly back at him while others, mostly the small schooling fish, dove for cover in the rocks and plants. “Are you just going to dump it into one of the tanks and hope for the best?”

“I suppose you’ll be starting production on the new movie soon.” Tasha took the fish to her desk and set it down, careful not to shake the bag. She doubted Taylor had been quite so gentle on the trip over. He grinned at her and she sighed, though she didn’t think he noticed. It wasn’t surprising. Guys like him rarely paid attention to anything that didn’t involve themselves.

“Everybody’s favorite superhero is back in business,” he replied with a thumbs up. “I’m on my way to have lunch with my co-star, as a matter of fact. Just wanted to stop by and drop off that little guy.” His cocky smile turned genuine for a moment and he extended a hand to Tasha. “Thanks for getting me off.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, shaking his hand. It was the last time she would see him, and she was relieved. It was always irritating when clients decided they wanted to get chummy. Taylor went to the door, then paused for a moment.

“How did you make that guy have a breakdown?”

“Enjoy your lunch.” Tasha turned her back on him and waited until she heard the door close, then pushed the button on the intercom. “Troy,” she said before her assistant could speak. “Don’t let anyone else in.” It wasn’t a request, and she took her finger off the button without waiting for a reply. A moment later, she pressed it again. “Wait half an hour and call my tank guy.”

She locked herself in with the soothing glow and hum of the tanks that surrounded the room, her eyes on the fish suspended in his plastic prison. He’d be out soon enough. Tasha let a rare smile tug at her lips, then she unbuttoned her jacket and took off her shoes.

There was just enough time for a dip.


“It’s too dangerous,” the doctor said, shaking his head. “He’s had a psychotic break. Admittedly it was a minor one, but I can’t in good conscience let you put him under any more stress.”

“How bad was it?” Detective Massey kept his voice low, though the man in the recliner didn’t seem to be able to hear him. “Is he okay?”

“Martin is convinced his wife has been replaced by a doppelganger. When the paramedics got here he had a knife in his hand and was screaming that he wouldn’t let her hurt his children.” The doctor glanced over at his patient. “It took a few minutes for them to calm him down and determine that the red mess splashed all over the floor was spaghetti sauce.”

“Huh.” Detective Massey looked at the last great hope of their case and saw the conviction spiraling down the drain with every jerk of Martin’s head as he checked the corners of the room, looking less like a man and more like a chicken.

“Pardon me,” Martin’s wife said as she walked toward the doctor and the detective with two steaming mugs. “I’m going to see if he wants some tea. He actually considered taking some from me after you started him on the new medication.” The doctor nodded and Detective Massey watched the slim blonde woman approach Martin with well-deserved caution. He couldn’t hear what they were saying but he could see her smiling at her husband, trying to coax him into taking the mug from her.

To the detective’s surprise and relief, Martin took the mug and looked into it. The doctor exhaled slowly and Detective Massey realized he had been holding his breath as well. His wife smiled and took a sip of her tea, as if she was trying to convince him it was safe to do the same. It reminded Detective Massey of how his own wife would act with the children when they didn’t want to try some new food.

Martin stared into the mug while she sipped her tea, still bathed in silence. The smile never left his wife’s face, even as she drank. She looked up at him and said something, just a couple of words made of a collection of syllables, and Martin recoiled. His wife looked confused and Detective Massey heard her ask him if he was all right just before he threw the tea, mug and all, at his wife’s head.

She dodged the majority of it, getting only a few spots of tea on her sweater, and the plastic mug bounced off the floor as the rest of the tea spilled out in a fan. It hadn’t even come to a complete halt before two large men in scrubs pushed past Detective Massey and moved forward to restrain Martin.

“Who are you?” He was screaming at the top of his lungs as he fought the orderlies, his eyes locked on his now-sobbing wife. “Who are you? What did you do with my wife? Where did you take her?” A nurse came running in with a syringe in her hand, uncapped it, and stabbed it into Martin’s arm, depressing the plunger with a speed that made Detective Massey’s upper arm twinge in sympathy.

“You see what I mean?” The doctor led him out of the room while Martin continued to fight. “I’m beginning to think we should keep his wife from coming at all. In any case, we won’t be letting him out for at least a month. Even then, the pressures of a trial…” His words trailed away as Martin’s struggles became weaker and Detective Massey focused on the syringe cap that the nurse had dropped in her haste to get to Martin. It was right beside the chair. If one of the orderlies stepped the wrong way, he could slip on it. Detective Massey wondered if they had the equipment there to deal with a broken leg or if they’d have to send him to the hospital.

Without another word to the doctor, the detective turned and walked out. He couldn’t stand to see Martin, his near-hysterical wife, or the ruin of his case for even one second more. It was over, that much was true. They might still have the trial, but without a witness it would be nearly impossible to convict.

Dammit, Detective Massey thought. I need a cigarette.