Anyhow, so I was in the frame of mind for writing a novel when I woke up that is akin to waking up on the day of your exams to realise that the night before instead of studying for the exam you went out partying in a little premature celebration. This did not seem a good way to start.
And yet somehow I dragged myself up to the keyboard and start writing. I saved myself the pain of attempting to create a witty and possibly profound opening by starting with Chapter Two. I'll get around to doing the first chapter later. Or not. It may be complete rubbish, but I managed 1,500 words, and I plan to have another go later and try to knock it up to 2,000. I reckon if I aim for 2,000 a day then I stand a good chance of reaching 50,000 by the end of the month even allowing for moderate disasters.
Here's a sample of the story in progress.
“Platform eleven and four ninths? What the hell do they mean, platform eleven and four ninths? That’s just stupid.”
Candy looked around to see if she could catch sight of a platform sign that included fractions, and was contemplating asking someone why the station wasn’t in decimal, but then she looked again and realised that it wasn’t platform eleven and four ninths, it was platform eleven on the fourth of the ninth. Today. Phew. She had narrowly avoided making herself look like a complete tool. She stuffed the letter back in her pocket and rebalanced her bags and moved on, looking around for the platform numbers. The one ahead was nine, so she was going in the right direction after all.
. . .
The letter had specified a school uniform. The only place to buy this uniform, along with a list of very odd supplies that she was required to bring, including some text books with the oddest titles, like “Woggart’s History of Illusionary Species” and “Old Fimble’s Introduction to Alchemical Grammar” seemed to be some obscure part of London. Candy had looked it up on her A – Z but it didn’t seem to be listed. In the end she’d managed to get most of the stuff on ebay.
Only another 48,500 words to go.