Nanowrimo 2019 Update

 When I first began participating in Nanowrimo, I was what they call a pantser. I went in to the month with an idea of a story and an idea of how it should end. And I wrote by the seat of my pants. After doing this for several years, I now am more of a combination pantser and planner, or what they refer to as a plantser. I have a rough outline with various scenes I've pictured in my head and I refer back to it as needed, but much of my writing is still whatever comes out when I set down at the computer.
​This year, I honestly wasn't sure how things were going to go. Sure, I've done this enough to know it's doable, but this year adding in a job two days a week and having kids who have decided they don't always need as much nap as in the past (some days my five-year-old decides she needs NONE), it definitely cuts into my writing time. After over a week of doing this, though, it's going well. The words are flowing easily. The story seems to be coming together in a way that makes sense, always a plus. And I'm growing to love these characters. So far, this year, I am averaging around 2600 words/day.
For those curious about what I'm writing, here's a sneak peek of the ROUGH draft of the beginning of my story. (Also, for the record, I'm usually the kind of girl who doesn't do anything Christmas until after Thanksgiving, so writing a story set in the Christmas season, titled My Mama Dated Santa, is new territory for me, and messing me up in all sorts of ways. I've been singing Christmas songs already!)

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     It was hard to make a Christmas tree look gaudy, what with all the folderol that normally adorned the branches of the holiday emblem. And yet, the one in the middle of Russos’ Toy Emporium stopped Trudy McNamara in her tracks. The artificial pine was the type where each branch went on a different slot and from the odd angles of several, it was obvious not all were in the correct spot. Three different kinds of lights wound in and out of the greenery—two-thirds of which flashed on and off, but at conflicting rhythms.
     Tinsel, right up there with glitter, Easter grass, and confetti in her opinion—in other words, the lowest of the low—dripped in clumps from various branches. Old Styrofoam balls whose silk thread had frayed and left gaps in the color covering the orbs, dangled from all the limbs that didn’t already hold a plastic snowflake, and quite a few of those were missing points.
At the top, slightly leaning to the right, an old star, four of its five edges still covered in silvery-blue garland, stood with as much state as possible. Several of the lights in the center of the topper had been replaced with bulbs not quite the same as the originals. One didn’t shine at all. And from somewhere in the monstrosity, a tinny tune played, adding to the general cacophony of the toy store and conflicting with the “Jingle Bells” blaring from the speakers overhead.
     None of this bothered Santa. He sat in a green winged back chair to the left of the tree, chuckling as he handed a squalling baby back to her mother. This was what everyone in town had told her sister was a must-do? This was the best Waco, Texas could offer?
     “Aunt Tootie, aren’t we going to go see Santa?” Mark tugged Trudy’s hand, pulling her from her shocked stupor.
     “Of course, Mark. Sorry.” Before Trudy could take a step, the door bumped her from behind as other customers tried to come through. She hadn’t realized she’d stopped so suddenly upon entering.
     Any other day, she would have been able to keep her equilibrium and a nudge at her back wouldn’t have been a problem. Today, she was holding the hand of her four-year-old nephew and wearing new boots. On this slick linoleum floor, it turned out a rotten combination. Her widened step to keep from falling on Mark aimed her shoulder directly for the arm of a man coming from the other direction, his focus completely on the clipboard in his hands.
     “Oof.”
     “I’m so sorry.” Trudy quickly straightened once more and stepped back, untangling her scarf from the pen that had been in the man’s hand. “I seem to have caused a bit of a traffic hold-up.”
     “More like traffic accident.” Her jerked the pen from her fingers, pushed his glasses straight on his nose, and marched off without another word.