Working on Chapter Thirty-three today meant going back and adding to Chapter Thirty-one and I've placed a preview of some of this below. At 37,605 words, I'm over the hump and the story has once more settled back into itself. There have been a few lean days, a few days when creativity has ceded to the demands of life and I know, without the Nanowrimo challenge, I would have found it harder to pick up the pen and resume writing after these interruptions. I highly recommend it to any writer, beginning, emerging or established, because we can all do with a challenge now and then. I certainly can.
Sneak peek from Chapter Thirty-one
There was another lull in the storm, but he knew it wasn’t over yet. It didn’t rain in Yalkaro for years and when it did, it was as if it forgot to stop. He'd heard Carmel head toward the stairs and sat down near the children, ruffling heads in passing. A shriek of wind tapped against the windows, first one, then another and he remembered the stories of the old people. He’d loved the delicious terror he’d felt when listening to them, his old grandmother’s eyes crinkling in the firelight as she cocked her head to listen for the scream of the Banshee, that portent of death. He, tucked up in himself, scapula clutched in his closed fist. Playing it safe.This was a good night to tell tales, to pass on the tradition. He knew Carmel probably wouldn’t approve. He wasn’t even sure he approved himself, yet the sounds outside stirred some deeper instinct to pass the stories on.
‘Did I ever tell you about the Banshee, kids?’ They shook their heads. ‘Well listen quietly and you might hear it.’ And the wind obliged, screeching and rattling the frames.
‘S’only the wind.’
‘No, tis never just the wind.’ He’d gone back in time now. He was his grandmother and her mother before her. He was one of the old people passing the tales to the next generation.
‘I’m scared, Dad.’
‘Ah, don’t be being scared now. P’raps tis only the wind – this time. Best be good now to be safe.’
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