NaNoWriMo #4

Excuse me
conceited
egotistical
little girl
sit back down and shut your mouth

I was taught to despise myself

raised by hate as much as by my parents
ten years old
too loud too smart too large
too much

gripping the fat on my hips that wasn’t even there
pulling and tugging and hating
head between my knees with sobs vibrating out of my lips
praying to god to make me beautiful enough
thick skin and all
for the same boys that spat harsh words at me,
so that one day someone could love me enough for the both of us
because that was what really mattered right?

i didn’t realize that the only love i needed was my own

too caught up in reshaping myself to fit into the predetermined figure
sucking in my stomach to zip up jeans
two sizes too small
burning and starving and rearranging the skin that I’d learned to hate
just to be able to say that I am pretty

the platform that all girls are raised upon
pretty and quiet and pretty and soft
pretty and skinny
pretty

replayed on a loop in our heads so not to forget
whispered behind our backs so not to believe
to make sure we play our parts but don’t live them
conditioning us to torture and groom the same skin we are conditioned to reject

and growing up in this world makes it so easy to do so
every magazine book movie condemning those who
dare to insinuate that they are beautiful for themselves
and hand-feed the rest of us our insecurities like we need them to survive

because heaven forbid we actually love ourselves
how dare we say that we like us for the way we laugh
for our knowledge for our talents
for anything
how dare we pretend that we are worth more than our weight or the way we dress
or the color of our eyes or the color of our skin

how dare we try to make ourselves into more than just the paper dolls we are.

but i think i speak for all of us when i say that i did not sign up to be held to the expectations of a madman
that i was not placed on this earth to live in the background of those of a luckier chromosome
or to starve my body to look like the girls you hold me against
i don’t remember entering a competition so i don’t know why you keep insisting it is one
because i’m realizing that embracing the way your lips fold over different syllables
and the way you hold anothers hand
and the way your laugh booms across streets
and the way your love can extend to all branches of this earth
is more important than trying to run the race that no one can win

because the size of your waist does not determine your worth
and your worth is not determined by the boys who want you
you are a thunderstorm
you are magic in your own right
a piece of the universe given this body
this beautiful skin that you should handle with care
a body that houses every thought emotion dream raging inside of you
skin meant to be loved recklessly and freely
and not cut out into the shapes that society deems acceptable

excuse me
conceited
egotistical
little girl
sit back down and shut your mouth,
stop taking up so much space.

****

     Friday I worked with Tia on my poem, and it was really helpful. She gave all of us really good tips and advice, and she was the sweetest person ever.
     The poetry slam went really well, and it was really cool to speak my piece and hear others do theirs.
     In relation to NaNoWriMo, I am up to 20,000 words right now, and have another 10,000 words to go before the end of the month. Hopefully with the coming days off, I'll be able to get it done (I really want to win NaNoWriMo, I wont lie).
     I wish I could say that my writing has become a full on novel, but like before, it's still just a bunch of random scenes that I have written that still need filler scenes in between them to get from point A to point B. So maybe for my last 10,000 words I'll go back and fill in the scenes I need. Maybe then I'll be able to actually see it as a whole novel??
    I think I'm making it sound worse than it actually is. You can still follow and understand what is happening, but at this point I'm just hitting the main scenes that I know I can write quickly. There is just some things I need to add to really advance the plot and the character development.
    All in all, I'm so so close to meeting my goal and it's got me very excited, and hopefully for my last blog I'll be able to share a big excerpt from my climax!
    Like I said, I'm just very very excited.
----
Abbey Nichole
 

NaNoWriMo #4

  *

If there was truly evil in the world, it takes the shape of grocery stores, Greer thought angrily as she rolled the cart through the throngs of people loitering in the cereal aisle.
She managed to push her way through, finally getting out of the mass with a box of Lucky Charms in hand and temper slightly decreased. She huffed again, looking back over her shoulder as a small kid wailed at being denied some sugar-filled box.
      She was turning back around, ready to continue her shopping when she felt her body slam against someone elses. A hand curled around her waist, steadying her as they tumbled together.
     “Oops,” the smooth voice currently wrapped up around her said, apologetic tone seeping into the one syllable.
      She chuckled a little bit, as she felt the warmth of the strangers body up against hers, closer than she had originally thought.
     Too close, she realized suddenly, practically yanking their bodies apart. There. Some distance is better, at least from here I can’t scald him.
     The stranger coughed slightly, uncomfortable, and she looked up at that, seeing the amusement and the confusion clear on his face.
     His almost familiar face.
     His almost familiar very attractive face.
    Big green eyes and full cherry lips stood out against pale skin, nose red with the cold air; dark hair curled down and framed his face, reaching towards his shoulders; he stood tall, limbs long and lanky, legs fit into skin tight jeans and a loose sweater hanging off his shoulder slightly. Tattoos peaked out from his chest, and Greer averted her eyes back to his face.
     “Hi, uh sorry bout that, was is a rush and wasn’t paying any attention,” Greer rushed out quickly, not wanting to seem rude or insane (even though she was, some days).
     “No no, it’s not a problem, I don’t really have any bodily control, that was probably my fault,” the stranger said, a strange smile creeping onto his face. He still looked eerily familiar, the long curly hair and green eyes pulling themselves out of the back of her mind.
     She really couldn’t place where she knew him from though.
    “I’m sorry, this is going to sound really strange, but do I know you?”
    At that, the boy let out a loud laugh, slapping his hand over his mouth as soon as it spilled out. He nodded a bit, before smiling, “Yeah Greer right? We met once, I delivered you flowers? You had like mountains of them on your counter, yeah?”
     Greer’s mind suddenly clicked at the memory, going back over that night she had gotten spectacularly wasted and had tried to sleep it off but only managed to sob into her pillows. The doorbell had rang so many times, she recalls, it had killed her head. So many people brought in flowers. This boy had been one of them.
     She nodded, feeling a blush rise high on her cheeks, “Sorry yeah, forgot about that..”
    “Henley,” the boy, Henley, offered.
    “Henley,” Greer repeated, pulling her best smirk, “sorry for running into you, and for whatever I might’ve said the other night.”
Henley opened his mouth like he was about to comment on her last statement, and it took no time for her to decide she probably didn't want to hear it, so quickly turning on her heel, Greer darted from the aisle.
She finished her shopping relatively quickly, the majority of the food being bought being for Finn anyways, even though he has his own flat with his own food, because he always seems to complain when Greer doesn’t have anything for him to snack on.
        He’s probably just worried she’s not eating again. He can fuck off honestly.
       After checking out, she took her bags in hand, and set out on her trek back to her flat, where she could curl up in bed and try her best to keep her mind blank.
        Stepping outside though, the smell of wet pavement flooded her senses and she groaned when she heard the steady pounding of rain on concrete.

*

   I'm halfway to my goal, which is insane. I've never stuck to a project for this long, but with all of my friends and everyone urging me on it's been going really well. My sister actually yells at me when its been too long since I had writen.
     I'm really excited about everything so far, and while it is a bit hard to get into the headspace to write from a male point of veiw, I'm slowly learning to slip into it easily. It helps though, that it switches points of veiw and if I get too stuck on something happening in Henley's perspective, I can just switch over to a different scene with Greer and go back to the first later.
    My realization that I don't have to get everything perfect the first time around came to me during this last round-table, where I got a lot of positive feedback from people. I had been so nervous about it not making sense or being awful because I hadn't really gone back and edited it, that it was such a relief to have people tell me they really enjoyed it.
    The moments of relief kind of sparked that realization that, oh right, I can write, and that's why I'm here, and over-editing things isn't always what needs to be done, sometimes it just needs to get written. So I'm very thankful for a lot of the comments.
     The excerpt from above is from pretty early on in my book, and it's the second meeting of my two main characters, and what really leads into them becoming friends then becoming more. When Greer gets stuck waiting out the rain, Henley walks out, groceries in one hand and umbrella in the other, and offers to walk her back to her flat under the safety of his umbrella. It all goes from there honestly.
     ---
Abbey Nichole
   

Nanowrimo #3

    I'm about eight thousand words into my novel at this point, and I'm slowly accepting that the entire thing is going to take place along a single street in Boston.
    I'm okay with it, mainly because it makes me think of my book like a sad, supernatural version of Friends, which is weird and only makes sense in my head, but yeah.
    I think the only problem writing lately is that I've been jumping around so much. I keep straying from one scene to another without adding stuff in between to tie them together, mainly because I want to write as much as I can and by writing like this, I go faster. The problem though, is that right now any outside reader would be confused. Very confused.
    I'm refraining from editing though, as suggested, and am just going to continue on as I am.
    Other than that, writing has been going really well and I really love my characters and how they are developing.
    ---
Abbey Nichole