Oct. 7 - 100 words

One hundred words is especially hard tonight. I can’t focus. I can’t concentrate. I spent some time at my grandparents’ today. My grandfather isn’t doing too well. The possibilities have me distracted. More than distracted, actually.

I’m supposed to be doing research for National Novel Writing Month. I’m also supposed to be researching Ophelia’s butterflies. There’s also research that needs to be done on a sniper’s rifle, and a compound bow that needs to be picked out. There’s more to research. So much more. I can’t concentrate on any of it.

Maybe it’s time for me to go to bed.

Oct. 6 - 100 words

“Oops.”

Lexie looked over her shoulder at Max. “Oops?”

He didn’t look up from the laptop balanced on his knees when he grunted at her.

Lexie waited for him to elaborate. He didn’t. “Max! What do you mean ‘oops’?”

“Nothing. Nothing.” The sound of his fingers on the keyboard filled the tight space of the car.

“Maximillian! You can’t say ‘oops’, follow it with ‘nothing’ and expect me to belie-“

“Shut up.”

Lexie glared at him in the rearview mirror. “I swear by all that’s holy and not, Max, I’m going to come over this seat and kill you myself.”

Oct. 5 - 100 words

She’s out there somewhere. I know she is. I dream about her every night. I remember her face like it was yesterday. Those blue eyes, that blond hair. She was something. I had to hunt her for months before I got my chance and in the end it was her that came looking for me. Sometimes I cum in my sleep dreaming about how I choked her and bashed her head against the wall.

She could’ve killed me but she didn’t. She made sure I lived.

She should’ve killed me when she had the chance.

I’m gonna kill that bitch.

Oct. 4 - 100 words

“So, this is the great Devon Bates’ private inner sanctum.” Sara turned a slow circle in the middle of the bare room, her eyes wide. “What exactly do you do here?”

Devon enjoyed Sara’s obvious bewilderment – and her beauty -- for a moment. “I –“

Wilson’s dull monotone came from the door. “Master Bates.”

Sara’s wild laughter filled the room and Devon grew hot. He glared at Wilson. “What do you want??”

Wilson cleared his throat. “My apologies for the intrusion, sir. There’s a gentleman on the telephone claiming to be able to help you with the problem you advertised.”

Oct. 3 - 100 words

So if I’m to understand everything I’ve read this morning (as well as the last few months) I can create the “outline” of my book by, basically, writing it. The short version of it, at any rate. The “you HAVE to read this book it’s all about…” version of it. Nifty. I think I can do that. If I can’t do that, well, then maybe I should rethink this whole writing business.

Wow. Grammar check is all over my ass today. Something about fragmented sentences this time around. It was something else earlier, but damned if I remember what now.

Oct. 2 - 100 words

I’m seriously considering participating in NaNoWriMo. It’s an insane consideration at best, but it’s the rare occasion when I claim any measure of sanity.

I registered with the site this morning. I’d like to claim sleep deprivation as the responsible culprit, but I don’t think I can make it stick.

Besides the serious time constraints that always come with the month of November, the biggest issue I face is the lack of an idea. I have several works in progress, but the rules say I can’t work on them even though one of them has less than 2000 words written.

Oct. 1 - 100 words

I have the energy of a five-year-old today. By that I mean that I’m an unstoppable blur of energy and motion for two or three solid hours then crash hard for a few hours, then make with the Tasmanian Devil/Flash Gordon imitation again.

Unfortunately, I also have the attention span of a gnat today. And by that I mean that I’m getting distracted by every noise I hear and every thing I see, unable to concentrate on any of it for more than five minutes at a time.

It takes too long to write one hundred words. At least today…