Here, take an excerpt

Have an excerpt from my NaNoWriMo.  I’ll try to find a swear-free one.

Here’s one:

“I glanced at my bed.  KitCat, my giant, grey tabby cat, was sleeping there.  “Bye,” I whispered before grabbing my skates from where they hung by their laces on a wall.  I flicked off the light before I left.

‘Mom!’ I called down the stairs.  ‘I’m going skating!’

‘Okay, honey!’ she yelled back.  I heard her fingers darting across the keyboard.  Clack, clack, clack.  ‘I need to finish this column by tomorrow.  Don’t die!’

‘Bye!’  I grabbed my backpack from next to the front door and laced up my shoes.  Red converse with mud stains splattered up both sides.  Eh, better than blood stains.  I kicked open the screen with my left foot and stepped out onto the porch.  A timid night breeze swept my hair up.  Ugh.  I wondered how disheveled it would be by the time I got to the rink.”

And… maybe another?

Okay, this one isn’t exactly G-rated, but there aren’t any cusses… and I guess I warned you.

The streets were dimly lit and boisterous that night.  Other teenagers huddled on corners, reeking of weed and tobacco and whatever else they were smoking.  Broken glass filled the gutters.  The stars were dimmed by the orange, artificial light of the streetlamps and businesses lining the streets.

The rink was glowing with early Christmas lights that lit up the old vending machines on either side of the open double doors.  I walked across the gross, mulch-covered landscape to the doors and headed down the dingy, multi-purpose carpeted hallway to the skate rental and payment counter.  Some college kid sat behind an old-fashioned cash register, casually chewing a wad of bubblegum and looking bored.  Bored in a cool way.  Almost a hot way.  Ew.”

‘Hey,’ he said when I set my skates on the counter.

I didn’t respond, but pulled a ten dollar bill out of my sweatshirt pocket.  He took it and smiled.  I shivered when he handed me the change and a wristband, then quickly grabbed my skates and went through the doorless entryway that led to the actual rink.

The actual rink wasn’t very big.  There were a couple rows of benches in front of it, a bathroom to the left, and some strobe-light thingies.

I pulled on my skates and tightened the laces.  Why did I ever come here on Fridays?  The place was packed.  Stoned high schoolers on rollerblades aren’t the best company.

Once my skates were on, I managed to get across the industrial carpeting without having my own wheels lock.  I made it to the shiny, smooth wood of the rink.  Lights from the strobe-light thingies glided across the shiny surface.  I gently propelled my feet into motion.

There is no feeling quite the same as roller skating on a smooth surface.  Seriously.  It’s like flying.  If you skate for too long, or too often, you realize how rudimentary and inconvenient walking is.  You bounce and trip and have to steady yourself.  You’re much too close to the ground.  You can’t go very long distances without starting to pant and sweat.  Not with skating.

When you skate, you’re gliding and flying and you can feel the wind whistling in your ears.  Unless you suck at skating.  Then it’s even worse than walking.

I maneuvered my way through several idiotic inline skaters, who kept bumping into each other and falling over.  They smelled horrible.

Just when I was almost to the open track again, a huge, hulking idiot on rollerblades came out of nowhere and smashed into me.  I fell over.  I tried to land on my knees and elbows, but there were people behind me and I ended up landing on my butt.  Well, on one of my skates.  Okay, actually, my butt kind of landed on top of the skate.

If you’ve never had your foot (with a skate on) smack into the ground, then have your butt fall on top of it… it’s not exactly pleasant.  The impact is really shocking, and, oh, God, it hurts really bad.”

And maybe one more?

I sat in front of the TV for half an hour.  I clicked a random button on the remote.

Click. “Luscious, golden locks can only be achieved with–”

Click.  “And he’s right on number seven’s tail as–”

Click.  “Lo que quiero decir es… estoy embarasado… y  no es–”

Click.  “And, Debby, do you have any idea how much your grandfather payed for this painting?”

Click. “Celebrity Dating World will be right back after these messages–”

I turned off the TV right as Jen appeared on the topmost step.  Her hair, short and blond, was messy, and her purple t-shirt was crumpled.  She had a backpack on.  Good.  She would be staying for a while.

‘Hi,’ she said quietly, flopping down onto the couch next to me.  She let her backpack slide off her slim shoulders and drop onto the floor.

‘Hey,’ I said, brushing the hair out of my eyes.  “Do you want some food?”

She shook her head.  ‘I’m not hungry.’

My mom came in carrying two plates of half-revived pizza.  ‘Here you go,’ she said, handing Jen a plate and a glass of milk.  Jen’s hands were shaking so hard the plate rattled.  She quickly set them down on the coffee table.”

That’s all!  Thanks for reading! 🙂

—Changuita o(•—• )o

Ten Things to Write



Yes– another list.  Ah well, lists are fun.

Here are ten things that I want to accomplish (and have accomplished) as a writer:

1.  Write an entire short story in future tense.

2. Write a story about someone transgender. (I even posted this one, that’s

Non-Sequitor One: Unfixable)

3.  Co-write a story (if you wanna help with this one, comment!!!).

4. Write an epic.

5. ACTUALLY complete a graphic novel.

6. Write a book that’s at least 200 pages long (I seem to lose interest at around 140 or so).

7. Illustrate someone else’s book.

8. Build a book like a town, populate it, make some drama, and KILL OFF NEARLY EVERYONE!!! (to help stress)

9. Write a holy text or a collection of myths for an invented religion.

10. Finish this list.

If you want to help out with any of the above, especially the co-writing or illustrating stuff, (keep in mind that I’m twelve, though 😉 ), then comment! 😀