Sunday, July 13, 2014

Write-a-thon: Week 3 Update

Hi, readers and sponsors.

Halfway through the write-a-thon... and the six-week workshop.

It's been incredibly exciting to be so closely involved with the day-to-day operations of the workshop and to see the students develop, both as writers and as a group. It's also been challenging to find time to write every day, but thus far, I'm still fulfilling all of my write-a-thon goals.

I wrote 2653 words during the third week of the write-a-thon, for a daily average of 379 (down a bit from last week), and my slimmest day was 261 words. Again, I worked on both the previously-mentioned bead story and on revisions of my novel.

Also, I've gained a couple more sponsors, but I'm still $227 shy of my $600 goal... so if you know any readers who might want to chip in and support Clarion West (and encourage me in my writing), spread the word!

Finally, here's your weekly sample of my work (from the bead story):

I walked until I got to the place where only the foam edge of the bravest waves could reach, after all of their power was used up and they were tired and ready to fall back into the big water behind. I dropped to my knees, set the pail aside, and started digging. I piled the sand that I took out of the beach to one side of me. The pile grew faster than the hole, because the bottom of the hole was full of water and every time a wave came, it washed more sand into the hole.

I kept digging, though. I wanted to see if I could get to the other side of the world that Dorothea had told me about. I knew that Earth was a ball and I’d never really be able to dig all the way through it, but I was pretty sure that Dorothea knew that too, so I don’t think that when she talked about making holes through to the other side of the world, she was really talking about the Earth as a planet, but some other type of world, and I knew that it was stupid of me to even dream of digging my way there with a plastic shovel. Still, I didn’t stop digging.

The wind had been blowing in hard little gusts when we arrived at the beach, but it got stronger and more steady the longer I dug, so I started thinking about going back and getting Mama to help me launch a kite. But then my shovel hit something that wasn’t sand. I set the shovel down and reached down into the hole with my hand—down through the water in the hole—and felt for what I’d struck.

Thanks for reading, and if you would like to sponsor me, you may do so by visiting my Write-a-thon page.

[My Clarion West Write-a-thon Page]

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