How I Have Missed You

Last Friday, I posted a new fanfiction to my favorite site, AO3, called His Abandoned Omega. I have not posted a new work for quite some time. I began writing a story last fall, but it failed spectacularly. This story, however, has caught the eye of many readers and is doing very well so far. (My writing does include erotica and m/m relationships, if this bothers you, don’t read it!)

I love to write. Plain and simple. When I found the world of fanfiction, it opened me up to posting my own works and having people actually read them instead of staying private, for my eyes only. Slowly, I grew a reader base and the confidence that grew within me was filled with gratitude for those readers and their kind words. I never used to post reviews to stories until I started writing and receiving my own reviews. I realized just how vital those words are to me. How dare I hold back that kind of gift to writers that I enjoy! (Granted, if I do not like the story, I generally do not review. If you can’t say anything nice…)

The active support and community you receive from writing and getting comments and reviews is humbling and energizing, and feeds the level of creativity flowing through me. I want to write more, I want to get those chapters out faster. I want to include this or that detail that the readers would love to see. I have missed this energy exchange so very much. Unlock My Heart was finished almost exactly a year ago. It has been that long since I have enjoyed the exchange. Now, I want to keep it going, keep writing, keep putting things out there that people might enjoy.

To the readers, reviewers, subscribers, followers, bookmarkers, I have to thank you. You inspire me, encourage me, push me, challenge me, and make my day every time I see another sign that someone has read. I celebrate every follow, review, bookmark, etc. So, thank you from the bottom of my heart. I can’t wait to continue this journey with you.


Kelly / xcaellachx

My writing can also be found on

On a completely different subject, yet still tying in to missing something, or someone, Jeff Walker would have turned 46 today. Remembering him is still so bittersweet. I loved him so very much. I thought we would marry and be together forever. His sudden death was the biggest shock of my life. He died at the too-young age of 29, I was 22. We were engaged. We thought his heart problem was under control, though him having a heart problem at his age was hard to accept. His mother had the same disease – hypertrophic cardiomyopathy – and died near the same age. Jeff had confessed to me not long before he passed that he was trying to get me pregnant. I knew we were not using protection, but actually trying had not occurred to me. I regret not getting pregnant, yet part of me is okay with it. I could not imagine my own child having heart disease and dying way too young. Jeff’s death devastated me. A grown child’s death would destroy me.

Jeff was a wonderful man. I realized only in the last few months that, though it was never acknowledged, and probably not even consciously known, that Jeff was a dominant man. I know it never occurred to me. But looking back at his characteristics, how he treated me, took care of me, and even corrected me, he was definitely a dominant man. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if he had discovered the lifestyle. There’s no use wondering, though.

I loved him well and I always will.

Happy Birthday, Jeff, wherever you are.


NaNoWriMo 2015 is Here!!


The NaNo season is upon us! In less than 12 short hours, NaNoWriMo 2015 will commence. Novel madness! Literary Abandon! These are the words I live for each year. My life was changed with this event and each year, I vow to pass along my story in the hopes of inspiring another writer to finally take that step and write a novel. I feel bad that I haven’t written this post sooner, but life has been very busy. My beta projects have filled nearly every day of the week now. (I am still working to find a balance of not taking on too much.)

In 2007, I decided to start a blog. I found the support and community of blog writers warm and inviting. It was a new world for me and I loved every post I read and each new blogger I found. One day, I was reading a favorite blog and he quoted one of his favorite blogs. My life changed with that first link. I clicked it and was entertained by the new writer’s humor and self-deprecating mien. He spoke about participating in a writing challenge that he hoped to finally complete. There it was, the next link, the final one really, to lead me to my destiny. NaNoWriMo. What was this mysterious moniker? Where would it take me? What kind of writing challenge was it? I clicked quickly and almost lost my breath. I know this sounds dramatic and I did that on purpose. But I do not kid about what finding that site meant to me. It changed my life.

National Novel Writing Month. NaNoWriMo.


(The WRI is pronounced WRY… not WREE as some say it and it irritates the hell out of me!!!!! Ok, I’m over it.)

NaNoWriMo, a yearly challenge to write a 50,000 word novel in the thirty days of November. From midnight November 1st to 11:59pm on November 30th. It equals to 1,667 words per day. This challenge began in 1999 with around 20 people participating. Now, 14 years later, there are around 300,000 writers world wide. I have met people from Australia, Greenland, England, Italy, China, and many other countries.

The website was different back then, but right there on the front page, it said “The end of the ‘one day’ writer”. You know how that is. “One day I’ll write a novel.” or “One day I’ll finish that book I started.” This challenge does just that. You sign up, fill in your novel info if and when you have it, and you get ready. The forums are an amazing place to find support, information, advice, anything. There are the craziest things on that forum. There are threads dedicated to offering “adoptables”. Need a plot, subplot, character, name? You can find them there. Threads exist to answer your questions. How does the voting system work? How does a combustible engine run? How many elephants can sit on the tongue of a blue whale? (About five.) How do you say hello in Arabic? All of these things can be found there. Post your question and it will be answered.

NaNo encourages you to let go of your Inner Editor and just write. Don’t worry about grammar and spelling, editing, all the things that can hold you back. Just write! Let your creative energy flow unimpeded for thirty whole days. It is so very freeing. If you want to really dive into the heart and history of NaNo along with advice and ideas from those who have gone through this to help you succeed, I suggest reading No Plot? No Problem! by NaNoWriMo creator, Chris Baty. It is a wonderful book, full of everything you need to win. It is $14.95, so it isn’t too expensive. (You can get it cheaper elsewhere, including the Kindle version, I just like to point to the NaNo store to help support the program.)

The money donated to NaNo goes to support the site and to educate children about creative writing. I believe the program was sent to around 2,000 classrooms last year. It is a really good charity.

I’m getting off track. Sorry, I am very passionate about this topic.

In 2007, I read for maybe three minutes and signed up. It was October 23, 2007. I had a week to come up with a plot for a 50k novel. There had been this idea in the back of my head for years based on a dream I’d had. So I went with it. My family got behind me and cheered me on. At midnight on November 1st, I was ready, my Word document open, notes laid out around me, coffee hot and waiting. They counted me down (as they have every year since), and I began writing. On November 21st, I crossed the finish line and four days later, after validating my word count, I received my first winner’s certificate. I kept writing and the novel ended up being around 65k. I had written a novel. Me.

Up to this point in my writing life, I didn’t have the patience or self discipline to write a novel. I would get twenty or thirty pages in and lose my drive. Now, with the aid of a community of writers and a deadline (the most important part, in my opinion), I had my novel.

I was sold.

I have participated in NaNo every year since and Camp NaNo twice. (Camp NaNo is held during the summer, usually July and August.) One year, I even wrote 100k. That gave me some sore hands.

So here I am, 8 years later with 10 wins and 10 novels. It astounds me every time I think about it.

Since I have written this so close to the start time, I know some will have to wait for Camp NaNo or for next year, but if you believe in flying by the seat of your pants, do it, sign up today! CLICKING THIS LINK COULD CHANGE YOUR LIFE!

Let me know if you participate, ok? I would love to support you through it. I can be found on there under the username kellyjene.

Happy writing!!

Favorite Writing Quotes to Inspire and Amuse

I always find myself inspired by the words of writers great and small. I like to surround myself with them on index cards or sticky notes. Reminders of the greatness I want to achieve or to take a moment and not take myself so seriously. From Anais Nin saying to cry out in writing to Mark Twain who wanted nothing more than to beat Jane Austen with her own shin bone. (My jaw actually dropped when I read that one!) Enjoy these words and maybe you’ll find a little inspiration along the way.

“If you do not breathe through writing, if you do not cry out in writing, or sing in writing, then don’t write, because our culture has no use for it.” 
― Anaïs Nin

“If you want to write, if you want to create, you must be the most sublime fool that God ever turned out and sent rambling. You must write every single day of your life. You must read dreadful dumb books and glorious books, and let them wrestle in beautiful fights inside your head, vulgar one moment, brilliant the next. You must lurk in libraries and climb the stacks like ladders to sniff books like perfumes and wear books like hats upon your crazy heads. I wish you a wrestling match with your Creative Muse that will last a lifetime. I wish craziness and foolishness and madness upon you. May you live with hysteria, and out of it make fine stories — science fiction or otherwise. Which finally means, may you be in love every day for the next 20,000 days. And out of that love, remake a world.” 
― Ray Bradbury

“I love deadlines. I love the whooshing noise they make as they go by.” 
― Douglas Adams

“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” 
― Ernest Hemingway

“If you don’t have time to read, you don’t have the time (or the tools) to write. Simple as that.” 
― Stephen King

“We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect.” 
― Anaïs Nin

“You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.” 
― Ray Bradbury

“I haven’t any right to criticize books, and I don’t do it except when I hate them. I often want to criticize Jane Austen, but her books madden me so that I can’t conceal my frenzy from the reader; and therefore I have to stop every time I begin. Every time I read Pride and Prejudice I want to dig her up and beat her over the skull with her own shin-bone.” 

― Mark Twain

“The road to hell is paved with adverbs.” 

― Stephen King

“Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia.”
― E.L. Doctorow

“The first draft of anything is shit.” 
― Ernest Hemingway

“I write to give myself strength. I write to be the characters that I am not. I write to explore all the things I’m afraid of. ” 
― Joss Whedon

“Writing is like sex. First you do it for love, then you do it for your friends, and then you do it for money.” 
― Virginia Woolf

“A short story is a different thing all together – a short story is like a kiss in the dark from a stranger.” 
― Stephen King

“So what? All writers are lunatics!” 
― Cornelia Funke

“People love a happy ending. So every episode, I will explain once again that I don’t like people. And then Mal will shoot someone. Someone we like. And their puppy.” 
― Joss Whedon

“The role of a writer is not to say what we can all say, but what we are unable to say.” 
― Anaïs Nin

“You know, it’s hard work to write a book. I can’t tell you how many times I really get going on an idea, then my quill breaks. Or I spill ink all over my writing tunic.” 
― Ellen DeGeneres

“Ideas are like rabbits. You get a couple and learn how to handle them, and pretty soon you have a dozen.” 
― John Steinbeck

“A book is made from a tree. It is an assemblage of flat, flexible parts (still called “leaves”) imprinted with dark pigmented squiggles. One glance at it and you hear the voice of another person, perhaps someone dead for thousands of years. Across the millennia, the author is speaking, clearly and silently, inside your head, directly to you. Writing is perhaps the greatest of human inventions, binding together people, citizens of distant epochs, who never knew one another. Books break the shackles of time ― proof that humans can work magic.” 
― Carl Sagan

“If my doctor told me I had only six minutes to live, I wouldn’t brood. I’d type a little faster.” 
― Isaac Asimov

My favorite quote, tattooed on my arm, that sums up my heart for writing…

“I write for the same reason I breathe – because if I didn’t, I would die.” 
― Isaac Asimov

I hope you enjoyed this!!!!

I Lost… Goodbye Mom, Find Peace

This is the account of what happened on July 8, 2015, the day my mother died. In this stream of consciousness post, there is graphic talk of death. If that is a trigger for you, please do not read any further.

July 8, 2015

I got up earlier than normal as I had an appointment with the pain specialist. Roger was really tired when he got home and though I usually liked him to take me to my appointments, I could not ask him to do so when he was so tired. He could barely open his eyes when I tried to rouse him. I did not like going alone. Not just due to my anxiety, but as my teeth degenerate and my smile becomes more disgusting and shameful, I feel better when he is near me. He can protect me from people who might want to make fun of me. That may seem illogical or childish, but that is my reasoning. My husband is wonderful and will always be there to help me. The visit at the doctor went quicker than normal. I was so pleased to be able to share that we had gone hiking up on the Mountain Loop on the Fourth of July. He was always encouraging me to get out and exercise, move around, do not just sit around. Get stronger! So, I tell him this, so excited to hear praise and he lectures me about the dangers of being out in the heat we have been having lately. Really? I was irritated. I got my prescriptions and left. I went to Safeway in Marysville and turned in my prescriptions and got myself a coffee as I prepared to wait the thirty minutes for the medicine to be ready. I am about ninety percent certain I saw my father as I approached the Starbucks kiosk. I saw him out of the corner of my eye, but did not bother to turn my head the full way to give him my attention. I then heard keys jangling. It was so odd, but that certain sound was so familiar to me, I had heard it so many times as I grew up that I knew it was him. I did not care to make any kind of contact with him so I ignored him and got my coffee. I went out to the car and sat with the radio and air conditioning on as I read on my Kindle and waited. The half hour flew by and I went back in to get my meds. Standing in line always makes my back hurt and I was tired by the time I got home. By one or two that afternoon, I had convinced Roger to finally go lay down in bed instead of sleeping in his chair. Meanwhile, I changed into a tank top and my super comfy capris and settled in to read for a while.

Bub called me around three thirty that afternoon. He told me that he had bad news and that mom had passed away. I, of course, said What? He repeated that mom had passed away and that he was so sorry. I remember feeling a pit open in my stomach and I let out a couple of sobs. I asked what had happened. Bub had been trying to call her. Wednesday is grocery day. He was trying to call and see if she needed anything specific that she didn’t normally get. She did not answer his calls. After several attempts, he went to check on her. It had been since Sunday that he had spoken to her. I had not spoken to her since Friday. He walked into the house and heard the water running. He assumed she had gone on to the bathroom while the water ran.

She always had to have ice cold water with her. She seemed almost paranoid about drinking water that was dirty or rusty. It reminds me of the little girl in the movie “Signs” that always complained about water being contaminated. The habit irritated me most of my life when I had to deal with it. The water had to run at least fifteen minutes, if not a half hour. That apparently cleared the water out enough for it to be clean. Then you would fill her big insulated black cup with ice – after rinsing the cup thoroughly first – all the way to the top. The ice had been made with water that had been through the ‘cleaning’ process. Once the cup was filled to overflowing with the ice, it had to be rinsed. Yes, that is right. The ice cubes had to be rinsed. Three times. Fill the cup all the way to the top with water, hold your clean hand over the top to hold the ice in and dump the water out. Fill it up, dump it out. Three times. If you did not do it three times she would know and you would be accused of trying to make her sick. And it was not termed as ‘getting’ her a glass of water. It was ‘making’ her water. “Kelly, go make me some water,” she would say.  It was an insane habit, but one that never, ever changed.

Bub walked toward the bathroom, calling out to her so she would not get scared. When she did not answer once again, he wondered if she had fallen asleep while waiting. She tended to fall asleep at the drop of a hat those days. She always kept her bedroom dark so he had not seen her as he walked toward the bathroom. He turned back as you had to pass her room to go to the bathroom. He turned on the light and that was when he discovered her body.

She lay there, limbs twisted awkwardly, eyes closed, and body tinged blue. He knew that she was gone, but still rushed forward to check for a pulse that did not exist. My small niece and nephew were there and saw their grandma laying there on the ground. He hurried them out and called for help. The paramedic took one look at her and pronounced her dead, no need to even check for vital signs. This was when he called me. He kept apologizing to me and comforting me. Then he had to go as the police were there and would tell him what he needed to do next. The cops that showed up declared that there was no need for a medical examiner as there was no sign of foul play, so it was up to him/us to get her body moved.

While on the phone with him, I saw Darik had been standing off to the side and I told him to go get Dad for me. Bub asked me to find prices for cremations and it was the last thing I ever wanted to do. How do you search for some company to ruin your mother’s body? To make it disappear so it is no longer her?

Roger arrived as I hung up the phone and comforted me as I cried quietly. I had expected it, to a degree, we all had. Her health has been so bad for so long, death seemed inevitable for her. She had just gotten out of the hospital last Friday from another bout of Congestive Heart Failure and had seemed to be doing pretty well. Now, it ran through my mind how I had not spent enough time with her. I had not seen her for nearly two years. The stress of caring for her and being around her had taken its toll and I had stepped back from being her prime caretaker. Luckily, thank god for Roger, he had pushed me to go with him to pick her up from the hospital on Friday and I finally agreed to go. I got to spend some time with her and see her smile when she saw me. After her heart attacks and other subsequent health problems, she sometimes seemed to have the mind of a child. She would get so excited to see people or talk to them on the phone. A single kind word would brighten her entire day. I am ashamed to say I did not give her many of those words. Bub and Roger were there for her in ways I had stopped. I am ashamed of that now, but I do not know if that knowledge would have pushed me into it before. Maybe I would have spent more time on the phone with her at least.

I cried to Roger questioning how the hell I was supposed to find a cremation service for my mother who just died. There was no time to take it in, it had to happen now. I got very lucky and as soon as I googled ‘Everett’ and ‘cremation’, the website for Washington Cremation Services popped up as the first choice. The price was very reasonable, $595 and I gave them a call. They were answering questions for me when I got a text from Bub saying that we needed to find a place that day. So I asked the people and they helped me arrange for their transport to go and pick her up. It was very easily done and for that I am very grateful.

I printed out the paperwork I needed for the cremation service and Roger quickly got ready and in no time we were on our way to Mom’s house. We got there and I hugged Bubba and he led me in to Mom’s room. I had no doubt that I wanted to see her. I had seen Jeff when he died and I was glad to have that chance. It solidified the knowledge that he was gone. You know of course, but after seeing a body, you knew. I walked into her room and was shocked that nobody had either straightened her body out nor put her on her bed. She was still there, splayed out, her limbs appearing as if at least one or two were broken. It was obvious she had been dead for some time as her blood had pooled, making her seem blue on the skin closest to the floor. I remember having that explained to me when I saw Jeff’s body. I think Bub did not move her because he was a little more upset by seeing her body than I was. He tried to escort me out, but I was fine, maybe numb? I do not know. But I was fine enough to gather a blanket to cover her. Roger had grabbed a sheet, but it was filthy, so I grabbed a lavender blanket she liked and draped it over her body. I remember it being kind of difficult since her limbs were splayed oddly. Later, when I went in there alone, I touched her wrist. The skin was so very cold and though she was not as stiff as I thought she would be, as Jeff had been, her limb was still very rigid. I had to wipe my fingers on my pants, it did not feel right touching her. Her skin had always been so very soft. Whether she was skinny from being sick or plump, her skin was always very fine and very soft. I liked that. When I was little, I liked to rub my fingers on her arm.

We had two hours to wait for the cremation transporters to get there. We spent a lot of time talking about the different things we needed to do, things to take care of, dealing with bills and her belongings. It was odd because several times we would get side tracked and talk about silly things and even laugh. It did not feel wrong or rude to do so, either. It was natural that if Bub, Roger, and I were together, we would find something to laugh about. We began looking through her bills and her purse, looking for various medical cards and on the lookout for her social security number. She refused to tell anyone what it was and had lost her social security card long ago. We needed it for several different things, including her death certificate.

We had discussed money and Mom had had enough cash on her to cover the cremation, thank God. There wouldn’t be much left over to cover any extra bills, though, so now we have to rely on the honor of the Father, which leaves me in doubt. Mom had very, very unwisely, not cashed many of the checks he had given her for alimony, leaving us all under the impression that she was very close to being broke. Bub had found a pile of alimony checks that she had not cashed. Once I searched her purse, I found eight more checks which equaled well over five thousand dollars. We have no way to cash those checks now and Bub is hoping that the Father will be honorable enough to take the checks, redeem them, and then have that money available for any needs we have as we deal with Mom’s final expenses. (All of this, by the way, has made me more conscious of Roger’s and my own needs for life insurance and having all important information readily available.) We all doubt that he would show that much kindness, but we have to hope. It is not like any of us have any sort of extra money to deal with this kind of thing.

I was searching her desk where her record player was sitting and had the idea to play her a song. I was thinking of something by Elvis, but Bub chose an upbeat song about Rock ‘n’ Roll that she had loved. The title of which has left my mind right now. “Rock This Town” by the Stray Cats. There I remembered it. “We’re gonna rock this town, rock it inside out. We’re gonna rock this town, make it scream and shout…” It was nice to play her a song to escort her out of this life and into the next one that I dearly hope is there.

We discussed the splitting of her belongings, with Bub and I having first go at some of them. Brother II would only be interested in what he could sell, so we have no problem taking what we want first. We tend to look at the sentimental value where he only looks at the monetary value.

Brother II was already pissed at me because I was the one to tell my niece that her grandma was dead. I can see now how it was not my place as I would be upset if it had been my child. At the time, I had wanted to know if she had already heard the news and I was upset and I could not just hang up and tell her to wait until she heard from her parents. It was handled badly and Brother II lectured me in a text message. I wrote back and apologized. Bub had already explained that I had not been trying to do anything negative but Brother II had it stuck in his mind that I had some sort of negative intent and there was nothing either of us could do to change his opinion. Not that I care that much.

I found some of Brother II and Bub’s baby stuff and set them aside for them. It still upsets me that my parents did not create or keep any keepsakes from my infancy. Both of my brothers have baby books and blankets. I have neither.

I took some groceries, a couple blankets, some paper products, tablets, pens, a mini clipboard, that kind of thing. Mom and I both loved writing supplies. I took a couple of blankets, a teddy bear, and stuffed pig I had given her from the Pig ‘N Pancake restaurant in Oregon.

Most of all, I wanted her jewelry box. I have loved that box since I was a kid. It about ten inches tall, dark wood. It has two doors made of an almost mesh like material that open to show four small drawers. There is a larger drawer underneath the doors. There is a knob on the back of the jewelry box that winds up. When you open the large bottom drawer, it plays a song. I was so pleased to find several pieces of familiar jewelry inside that reminded me of her. Including several pieces of costume jewelry that I had played with and worn when I was a girl and some of my own earrings. I’d had my ears pierced a couple of times growing up until we gave up, realizing I was just too allergic to the metal to keep the earrings in. What I was overjoyed to find was her wedding set and her mother’s ring. The mother’s ring has a jewel representing each of us kids’ birthstones; an emerald, a ruby, and a garnet. The wonderful part is that both rings fit me. I won’t be able to wear them often, but I will love knowing I get to wear a piece of jewelry that she loved so much.

By a little after seven that evening, the cremation transporters arrived. They were very kind and very fast. They took the paperwork and had me sign more. Then they brought in a gurney, telling us that they had to put her in a body bag because it was the law. One odd thing that I noted was that they were both dressed very well and were handsome. Darker, more somber colors, but one wore a handsome vest and the other a lovely purple dress shirt. They closed the door to her bedroom as they loaded her into the bag and onto the gurney. When they came out, I was pleased to note a tasteful, discreet burgundy blanket had been placed on top of the body bag. I was tearful again, as had happened on and off throughout those hours, and asked them to please take care of her. It shocked me, in that moment that a life, vibrant life, had transformed into something that could be zipped in a bag and rolled out the door.

Bub left soon after. The day had taken its toll on him. He had made the important phone calls telling all the main relatives, including Mom’s sister, Linda. He needed to rest and think of something else. Oh and we finally found her social security number. I had been thinking I would ask Carolyn, my doctor, as we have a good relationship and Mom used to be her patient. Then I remembered tax returns, you have to list your social security number on those. Bub was so proud of me and knew exactly where her most recent tax return papers were and we found the number.

After Bub left, Roger got me some rubber gloves and I stripped the bed. It just seemed morbid to leave it all made up. I think she had been sitting and died like that. The way her body was positioned looked like she had had no control over her body. She hadn’t fallen and then laid there and died. She’s fallen before and been able to at least put her body in the right positioning. I think her heart just stopped. Her phone had not been touched, nothing else was out of order. Her television was on. Everything was as it should have been. She just died.

I gathered up some more keepsakes, including some of her personal writing projects. I have never read anything she wrote other than poetry she felt like sharing, so I am looking forward to seeing what kind of writer she was. I also grabbed her old, very old, suitcase so I could read through the contents. The suitcase has many of her oldest memories. Letters to her brother, her diploma, a doll, blanket, and things like that. I fully intend on bringing it back to be shared with my siblings, I just wanted to read them in my own home, not there.

We came home after stopping to deposit the money for the cremation into the bank and getting some fast food for the kids. After arriving and unloading the car, we watched the movie “Evolution” that I had bought for Roger. It was nice to laugh with the kids. I did not tell them details like seeing her body or the  way she was laying. I only told them some humorous things. Oh and I finally told Bub that Mom had been suspicious of Constance. That she had overheard Constance commenting that Mom ‘would never die’ and was then worried that Constance had nefarious plans for her. Bub thought it was funny.

Anyway, I took a little nap during Evolution, then ended up staying awake most of the night. When I finally fell asleep, I slept most of the day and woke up with only twenty minutes to spare to pay for the cremation services. That would have ended badly. I explained things to Bub and he was not upset, thank God. Bub and Brother II decided Mom was too private to post any RIP’s on Facebook which really upsets me. Writing is how I communicate. How am I supposed to ask for comfort or share my grief if I’m barred from doing so? Oh well.

So that is how I spent the day of Wednesday, July, 8, 2015.

Writing, writing, writing … It’s Camp NaNoWriMo Time!


This is only my second time participating in Camp NaNoWriMo, but I was excited to do so as I have a story I’ve been wanting to write for months. NaNoWriMo, for those who don’t know, is National Novel Writing Month. It is a challenge to write a 50,000 word novel in the 30 days of November. Camp NaNo is an open challenge. You set your own goals. I am continuing with the 50k goal and I have a feeling it will be even longer. I’m excited about it.

Yes, it’s fanfiction. Ugh. Yes. But, I have every intention of rewriting it, if it gets good reviews, into a regular fiction. I actually love writing fanfiction. It’s like a writing tutorial because you are given characters, an environment, scenarios, all sorts of things and you get to just fill in the blanks. Twist it and turn it into whatever you want. I fell in love with a couple of characters from the show Glee. When I discovered the world of fanfiction, I was in shock at what people wrote. Well, needless to say, I got over it. I’ve written over 20 fanfictions and have ideas for several more.

The one I am writing now for Camp NaNo is a world of magic. Kurt was born a druid, but like all magic people, his powers are somewhat stunted until he turns 18 and participates in the Ceremony of Awakening, where his specific types of magic will be revealed and opened to him.

I have the first chapter written. I desperately need to edit it. The one thing about NaNo and editing is it is a big NO NO! They want you to put away your ‘inner editor’ for the month so you simply concentrate on the writing, the creation instead of things like spelling and grammar. So, when I have time, I will edit the first chapter and then I will post it. Here’s hoping for good reviews!!!

To complete Camp NaNo, I need to keep the pace of 1,613 words per day. So far, I’m at 5,870 words. I’m ahead and that is where I like to stay. If I build up a ‘cushion’ at the beginning, if I have an off day or don’t want to write then I won’t fall behind.

Have a great day, world!