Did you hear the one about the part-time working mum who thought she’d try writing a novel in the month for NaNoWriMo, but only made it to 5,600 words? Ha, that’s me! The moral of this story is:

  • Have a well thought out plan/plot beforehand (who would have guessed!!?)
  • Cancel all social events in November. In fact, cancel talking to people, even your own family members
  • Go away for a weekend on your own, just to write (if you want to make more than 5.600 words) and hire a live-in maid. Ha ha ha ha ha.
  • Trying was still loads of fun and I’m hoping to try again next year
  • wonderwebby should read more fiction
  • wonderwebby is out of creative writing practice and needs to learn to write good

Considering the few hours I spent, I may as well share a bit :)

“Violet held her fist to her cheek and closed her eyes. The orb hummed and was warm from her firm grip. She rarely wore the necklace as the others did. She always felt constricted wearing things around her neck, she was not particularly fond of trinkets and decorations and such – and it was much more comforting to hold it in her hand. Suddenly, as if somebody had slapped her out of her predicament, she opened her eyes, smacked her lips with a loud pop and sprung up, slipped the orb into her pocket and zipped it up tightly before deciding to head down to the port. ”

“…The port had become an intersection of cultures, trades and destinations. Hopes and dreams landed here, some took root – and others had been lost beneath a girth of affluenza. Nowadays, it was a meeting place. Traders still enjoyed selling an array of technical knick knacks and curios from their portable stalls. Violet came here occasionally, sometimes to meet friends, or run errands for her mother. Sometimes her younger brother would beg her for an excursion to the far end of the port, where colourful kites powered by miniature rockets would sail through the air, turning and spinning in spectacular style before crashing down into the waves. Evenings here were always magical. You never knew quite what to expect. And so Violet found herself drifting along the carousel footpath, patting her pocket occasionally, eyes looking into the distance in a way that is not quite looking, and not quite asleep, but adrift in a mood that had overtaken her.”

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