So I joined a gang last week. Nothing too hard core. A writing gang. It's official now cos we each have these awesome post-it notes that are shaped like typewriters. And we're on a mission.
Madcap number one emailed us on Thursday about a writing competition he was going to enter. Scratch that, that we're all going to enter!
Minimum of 25,000 words. A complete story/novel/book. For children or young adults. I think those are the specs anyway, we've hit the ground running so fast that I haven't really checked. It's gotta be submitted by the beginning of June, see. In Australia. And you can't email it. So I figure we have five weeks.
Which, hey, is more time than NaNoWriMo which I've done and won twice now. It even gives me an extra week. Which will be needed for editing.
Is trying to do this all in five weeks madness? Completely. But hey, why not? It'll be fun, and I'll end up with another manuscript, regardless of whether anything actually comes of it. And it's good practice. And there has been mention of coffee. And did I mention the awesome post-it notes?
Apparently anything you submit to the competition can't be published anywhere else, so blog pickings may be slim for a few weeks. But in the spirit of speed-writing, here's an example of what happens when I write at a breakneck speed.
(Don't judge it too harshly. It's still a zero draft, and has not been touched at all since it was written during NaNo '11, most likely during a series of word sprints.)
"Maxwell!"
I
opened one eye sleepily. My alarm clock told me it was already half past eight.
And it's a school day. Crap.
"You're
already late for school, if you don't hurry up you're going to be even
later!"
"I
know, I'm coming!"
When
I came downstairs ten minutes later, Mum was waiting for me in the doorway,
hands on hips. "Honestly, Max, this is the third time this week."
"I'd
like mornings a whole lot better if they started later," I grumbled. If
Mum heard me, she didn't show it. She merely shoved my backpack into my arms,
and pointed to the front door.
"School!
Go! Now!"
"I'm
going, I'm going." I don't now why it matters, I'm only going to miss Form
Time. Nothing important.
Twenty
minutes later I arrived at school, and debated whether I should just go to
class right away, or if I should go and get my late slip from the office like
we're supposed to. I had English, with Ms Tyler, so the decision was pretty
easy.
"I
need a late slip", I told the woman in the office.
"Again,
Mr Walden?" she asked, peering down her pointed nose at me. Crap. She knew
my name. This couldn't be good. She continued, "You are aware that school
begins at quarter to eight, are you not?"
"Yes,
ma'am."
"Then
why have you turned up after nine o'clock three times this week?"
"Well,
you know, it's difficult turning up on time when you have to travel to get
here." I smiled, in what I hoped was a charming way.
She
grumbled, turning her attention towards the computer. The keys tapped loudly
and slowly, then the printer started whining.
"Yes,
Mr Walden, I imagine it must be very difficult to get to school on time when
you live a short walk away. What happened? Snowed in? Car wouldn't start?"
Blooming
administrators, thinking they have some sort of power. Wanna-be teachers, I
reckon, though who'd want to do that either.
"Look,
can I go to class? I'd hate to miss anything ... important." Ms Tyler
always took half the lesson to get to anything important. The rest of the time
was spent playing stupid games and trying to "develop us as people"
or some rubbish. Nothing that was going to help any of us pass the class.
She
harrumphed. "Here you are then. Do try to make it to school on time
tomorrow, won't you."
"Sure
thing, whatever you say." I flashed my teeth at her before I left, and wandered
down the hallways to my English class. The thing about Ms Tyler's class is you
can hear it before you get there. I was still four doors away when I heard her
screeching.
"No,
no, no, class! Back to your seats, back to your seats, you're doing it wrong!"
Geeze, what was going on in there? And did I really want to find out? I
considered heading off down the field, but then decided I didn't really want a
detention, and kept walking towards the class. A ball of paper hit me square in
the face as I opened the door.
"That's
IT, Jason! Yellow slip! Now! Go!"
"I
can't go, Ms Tyler. You have to give me an actual yellow slip if you want to
yellow slip me."
"Out!"
she hollared, and Jason shrugged as he gathered his things. He grinned at me as
he squeezed past, probably going to go off down the field and smoke.
"Nice
of you to join us, Max."
"I
have a late slip, Ms Tyler", I said as I handed it to her.
She
grabbed it "Take your seat". I did, gladly.
"Late
again, mate?" Ian asked.
"Yup,
like everyone keeps reminding me. I figure I haven't missed much though."
"You've
missed absolutely nothing", Lauren interjected, as Lauren usually does.
Butting in to conversations that don't concern her. "You know Ms Tyler ...
I think we still have ten minutes before we're going to do anything
useful." She and Ian laughed. Cassidy looked like she wanted to laugh, but
pursed her lips instead. I don't think she approves of being rude to teachers,
even if they can't hear it.
"There
are those times we do nothing useful at all all period", Ian mused.
"I think today might be one of those days."
"How
can you tell?" Lauren asked.
"Ms
Tyler's got that look in her
eye."
"Ms
Tyler always has a look in her
eye."
"Yeah,
but this one is a very particular one. Her pupils glint sort of, as if she
thinks she's going to change the world. I bet you. Ten bucks. We're not going
to do anything remotely related to the English curriculum today. We're going to
do something to get to know each other, or talk about our feelings, or improve
ourselves. I bet you."
"You're
on." I figured it was too far into the year for her to do absolutely
nothing English-y for the entire lesson.
Ian
grinned. "Sweet, I'll be getting my lunch from the canteen today."
"Keep
dreaming."
"She's
got to do something, surely." Strangely, when Lauren agrees with me it
only makes me want to disagree with her. Which, unfortunately, doesn't work. I
can't disagree with myself, after all.
Ian
left class laughing, as he pocketed a ten dollar note. My wallet, meanwhile,
was somewhat lighter. "Yeah yeah, okay, you won. We all lose in the end
when we fail English because Ms Tyler didn't teach us anything."
"That's
ages away. Right now, I'm a winner."
"She
really should have taught us something, though." Lauren was struggling to
keep up with us.
"Lauren.
We may be forced to work and sit together in English, but class is over now.
You can leave us alone."
"But
we're all going to the same place. Science."
"Well,
you could go a different way."
"There
IS only one way to get to Science."
"You
don't need to talk to us, or walk with us though." She stopped walking,
and we continued on.
"I
don't know why you're so mean to her," Ian remarked. "She's nice
enough."
"Yeah,
I know you get on with her."
He
shrugged. "She's fun. Not too serious."
"How
do you know? You only see her in English."
"And
in Geography, and PE. Classes you don't take."
"Oo-ooh!"
I squealed, shoving him. "Geography and
PE. Do you love her, then?"
"Bugger
off, she's just okay to hang out with. Doesn't talk too much."
"She
talks all the freaking time."
"But
not about serious stuff. You know. Like most girls do. They want to be deep and
meaningful all the time. Or they don't talk at all. Like Cassidy," he
added as an afterthought.
"She
talks. You just have to prompt her a little bit."
"It's
like pulling teeth."
"Only because you have no
patience."
"And
you're Mr Sensitive, then."
I
sighed dramatically. "Oh, Ian. It's because your family is full of men.
You're socially undeveloped."
"Mum's
not a man", he objected.
"Yeah,
but she's your mum."
"Oh
so you have learnt all your social skills from your sister?'
"I've
learnt that you have to be more careful talking to girls than you are, if
that's something."
'It's
not much of anything, which I guess makes it a small something."
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