I’m a Camp Nano participant – woohoo

In previous incarnations I’ve tried to be part of the Nanowrimo/Preptober crowd, posting tips and info that would be useful to writers and, more often than not, failing to do any actual writing. While I like the camaraderie and deadline of Nanowrimo, I don’t like the performative aspects of the writing community, especially around that time. I get it, but I don’t feel like myself if I take part in it. What the hell do I know about writing? Not much that would be helpful to anyone else – unless you’re a neurodivergent asshole hiding behind a pen name. (If that’s you, you’re my people.)

But I still want to use the power of Nano to get the juices flowing, so to speak. So, I’ll be joining Camp Nano for April, with the goal of writing a new drabble each day. I have a series of seven drabbles on this site right now, but they’re a continuous story that went out into the hall and then nowhere. I’ve toyed with the idea of taking them down, but I think I’ll leave them. I like the Drabble genre and I want to track how I evolve within it.

These 30 drabbles may have a shared world or setting, but I don’t want to connect the narrative at all, like some short story writing just chopping up his work to fit the format. I want each one to feel complete within its own 100-word capsule. That’s my goal: 30 self-contained stories. What I do with them in May will depend on me getting to April 30th.

Wish me luck.

My god, I have no idea what to do with this web site. It looks terrible. Blah.

A Drabble Story, part 7

You can start the journey here, at part 1.

As he stood up in the power position, one-by-one his classmates became aware of him. The thick kid from off-planet towered over his peers and while they hunched over their tests, scrawling answers that easily came out of their heads, he stood over them, a pencil seemingly piercing his brain, blood drenching his sleeve, now and dripping off his middle finger. “Teacher?” he said in the small voice that big body was burdened to bear. The teacher adjusted her glasses and made a mark on her notepad. “You have two minutes,” she said and (after a sigh) she turned away.

A Drabble Story, part 6

You can start the journey here, at part 1.

“There is no victory for you here,” he said, making his voice sound gravelly and worn. “You have done me a dishonor in my service and I will have to relieve you of your command.” Ben broke the pencil in two and stuck one half into each of  his ears. He was smart enough not to put the right one in point-first, but dumb enough to forget that the broken end was sharp too. With blood streaming down the side of his face and his scalp scraped raw, Ben stood up and asked if he could go to the boys room.

A Drabble Story, part 5

You can start the journey here, at part 1.

Ben crumpled. The girl turned away from him, just like the cars in the problem, turning and speeding away from each other, Harry to Mark, all leaving Ben at home and never returning because his thick brain remembered one thing and that thing was once you left home you were gone. The teacher sat back down being relieved at the girl’s response and jealous that no one called her “so pretty” and made a small notation to mark down the girl’s grade for causing a disturbance. Ben glared at his useless left hand and talked directly to his pencil.

A Drabble Story, part 4

You can start the journey here, at part 1.

A scent caught his attention and he turned to his left. Ben winced as the vision of beauty glowed so brightly that his heart exploded in metaphors he didn’t understand. The teacher stood (because she was short and standing when students sat made her feel powerful) and waved a hand at him, but his eyes and heart and his whole area swole with insecurity and rage. Nothing this beautiful should exist, Ben thought. With his useless left hand, still holding the useless pencil, Ben pointed at the girl seated next to him. “So pretty,” he whispered. 

“Fuck off,” she replied.