our SACREMENT ofsalmon and IrishBeer.

So, I stumbled upon http://www.creativewritingprompts.com/ , and decided that I'd use it to pick and choose a daily writing prompt to sharpen me up before NaNo. Which reminds me that there's a fanfiction I need to finish, oh well.
Also, I've found myself doing online typing tests, both to up my WPM, and also to try that 'ditch the inner-editor' thing.

prompt #124:
Roy wasn't even aware that he was pacing. He was barely aware of the slight anger bubbling in the pit
of his stomach. Stupid teenagers, he thought, can't follow the most basic direction.

"Hurry up, Jack. Where the hell are you?" Roy's mumbling drew almost no attention from the
surrounding crowd, as most of them were muttering worriedly as well. "When I said three o'clock sharp
I meant it Jack!"

Stupid Evenlyn, no, not stupid. Roy mentally berated himself for even started to refer to anything
about his now two-month-deceased wife. Although, it had been her idea to allow their fifteen-year-old
son Jack to run off to some music program half-way around the world for the whole summer. Well, not
the whole summer, since the program sent Jack home for three days to attend his mother's funeral, but
then requested his presence back, and left his father to grieve alone.

"Excuse me," the voice over the loudspeaker, was, for once, that of a live human, "there's some rather
urgent news I have to relay regarding Flight 348 from Chicago." Roy barely registered that that was
Jack's flight. "The plane crashed down in Ohio." It was audible that the woman lending her voice was
choking back tears, however, Roy was failing miserably at the same task.

"There was only one survivor, a teenaged boy they've identified as J--," it was a miracle that Roy had
survived holding his breath this long, "--ack Davids. We're sorry for your losses."

In the course of one summer, Roy Daniels had lost everything that he loved.

you little SPIES.

So, it's now mid-October. One of the things on one of my to-do lists is being accomplished as I type.
The list demanded that I establish a blog to use for venting, squee-ing, and angst-ing during my first ever attempt at the insanity of NaNoWriMo. Which, essentially, is the Mount Everest for writers.
Thankfully, my plot is visciously secure, and came early, fell into place, and shouted its title in my ear repeatedly.
'The City By The Sea' will be a hybrid between a romance novel and the tale of a civilization's rise and fall. So, it's safe to say that I'm excited.

Two weeks && six days before the commencement of NaNoWriMo.
--Lyze