I'm at 7273 words as of 10pm tonight. I'm still a little behind, but managed to write a lot more than I thought I would. Especially considering that Mikey is sick and has been waking up a lot last night and tonight. I really want to be caught up by next week, I might talk the husband into letting me toddle off somewhere, sans l'enfant, to do some writing this weekend.
The story is really starting to write itself though. I have trouble with dialogue, it always sounds so ridiculously fake when I write it. But that's something that can be cleaned up post-November. For a story starting with no real plot, I've surprised myself with the way my main character has led me and what she's gotten herself into so far.
For those who are remotely interested, I wrote a kind of synopsis for it tonight. Drumroll Please.
My name is Danielle, but you don't need to remember that, it's not really all that important in the scheme of things. When I was nine years old, I was given a shadow box. It used to belong to my grandfather and his father before him. The frame was a dark wood and parts of it were beginning to crack with wear. Under the glass were 6 dead moths, neatly spaced and pinned to the black backing, with their Latin names written in scrawled handwriting on small, faded pieces of paper attached underneath each moth.
I had to sell the shadow box eventually, it was the only thing I had left that was worth anything and I was in trouble. Alex bought it back from the guy I'd sold it to and left it outside my apartment a few nights later, wrapped in gaudy paper, for me to find. I didn't want it as a gift from him, I couldn't accept anything from him or I'd end up like one of those moths. Lovingly placed under the glass and neatly pinned to the backing.