Concussions and NaNoWriMo

I'm perfectly fine.

Seriously.

A little bump on the head made me loopy *whee* for a short while, gave me 2 weeks of headaches. I never knew how painful sunlight could be. The plus side is that I got to spend a lot of time in books to hide from my pain.

It was a hit and run accident. He bumped my car from behind and left me concussed on the side of the road.

And ruined my NaNoWriMo goals! The jerk.

I didn't even bother trying to catch up, but I'm really happy with my 18K words. *sniffs, sniffs* I'll be all right. I'm only 32K short. *sniffs*

Being a writer / publisher / marketer is a hell of a lot of work. Clearing the time to just write felt so soothing to my soul.

But here's for you:  another excerpt from the first chapter of Wendy Amazing and the Girl's School for Mad Science. Here's where the plot kicks in and her happy world goes to Hades.

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Papa clears his throat. “What news have you of the band living west of the city?”

Indians living just outside our city walls? They might raid us in the middle of the night. I shiver with excitement.

Uncle Nathaniel nods solemnly. “I got what you were wanting. I’ll show it to you after dinner when we go down to your lab.”

Mama glances at me and then frowns at Papa. “Boys, not at the dinner table. Little ears and all that.”

“My ears are not little. I can understand—”

“My point exactly. You are too young to get involved in something dangerous, and too old to not keep your nose out of it.” She scoops mashed potatoes onto her plate and pours gravy (from the antique gravy boat that she inherited from her disapproving grandmother, along with our old house. If my great-grandmother could see the refurbishments—like our solarium in the library, the stairs that were torn out for a room that moves up and down, and the pantry which organizes itself, which is why we can’t ever find anything—she’d rise from her grave and scream like a banshee.)

Mama gives me that glare that says this-conversation-is-over, but I’m even more determined to not be left out.

“You always leave me out. I’m old enough—”

A pounding at the door, so loud I think it will break our door in half, and Mama shoots to her feet, her hand over her mouth, and stares at Papa.

“The police. Open up.”

Papa, lips pressed into a thin line, stands and sets his napkin by his plate. “Sit down, Mary. Nathaniel, take Wendy and Molly through the secret passage.”

Chewing his lip, Nathaniel glances at me and then at the door. Then he nods.

“No, I’m not—”

In one step, he is at my chair and has slung me over his shoulder. Molly scurries behind us.

My last view of my parents is upside down as Papa calmly goes to open the door and as Mother wipes the worry from her face and steadies her shaking hands.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

What about you? How is your project going? Just 4.5 days left!