NaNoWriMo Barfed Up This...

So, I have been doing NaNoWriMo for like four year and this year I WON! I was really happy about this, and was also surprised that I didn't totally fail again-- especially because this is my first realistic fiction piece (I'm more of a fantasy-writing, world-building girl). I have copied the first page which has been edited, sort of. If you could give me constructive criticism, by which I mean not "this totally sucks. why do you poison this forum with your stupidity", I am open to brutal critiques. Also, at the bottom of this excerpt there is a request that I would love you to read and respond to...

Ashe was laid out on the fresh spring grass watching the clouds scud past, the clouds regularly letting a hint of robin-egg blue sky gain visibility. This was a common pose in her free time, sprawled in the fields, pondering the immensity of the universe and the paradox of human existence. The sun had been steadily crawling across the sky as the corner of her book pressed into her abdomen. This publication was one of Ashe’s favourites, but today was not a reading day for her so the book was closed beside her.

The perfect serenity of the scene relaxed Ashe in a way that no other thing could, happily without compromising her alertness and observance. She could feel every blade of emerald grass beneath her, pressing against her flannel shirt and jeans and probably creating an interesting pattern on her pale back.

Every perfect moment must end, however, or else there would be nothing to compare the perfection of the previous moment with. The ending to this perfect moment was the vexatious, but necessary, alarm on Ashe’s watch to remind her to get cracking. If Ashe were to eliminate the alarm, she would never leave the tranquil field, missing the daily ball game and possibly even supper. Responding as fast as she could was of the utmost importance for a reminder-alarm-- if she gave herself even two seconds of extra time to stay, the whole alarm system could be compromised. A little leniency every time creates a lot of leniency and eventually all of the alarm system’s effectiveness would be lost. It was a dramatic concept, but it worked. Ashe stood up quickly, and paused for 7 seconds to let the subsequent head rush clear before bolting towards the nearby conifer tree line on the outskirts of the fields. She ran down the pleasant hill on the edge the field, white and green sneakers getting soaked through to her mid-calf mismatched socks.

At the edge of the field lay an obviously historic (excluding the lilac paint color) two-story farm house. The house had a long and winding gravel drive, presumably going to the unseen road behind of the thicket of pines of the front yard. Ashe decreased her speed a slow jog as she approached the gravel, until she came to a brisk walk for the descent. Her 60% Dark Chocolate colored hair was in the usual single plait, but after the light jog, little strands of hair found their normal homes outside of the braid to produced a moderately mussed appearance. As Ashe reached the bottom of the drive, she turned right onto a dusty paved road toward a group of boys milling around an open field, similar to the one that Ashe had just left.

“Hey! Y’all almost ready?” Ashe questioned an taller blonde boy, employing only the slightest country accent.

A much thicker accent replied, this time coming from a well-built brown haired boy, “Kel’s here, but yer the onlee girls, as always--”

“Which is good your you, because if there were more girls your team’d be toast,” Ashe interjected.

“And,” the boy continued grinning and rolling his eyes, “Preston has just gone to get the ball, he forgot it like he forgets his head on most dees.” They both chuckled good naturedly, along with a few others who had drifted over to ask where the ball was. A boy pointed to the bottom of the wooded ridge on the opposite side of the road to a plum shaped boy with a glove encompassing one pudgy hand and a battered baseball clutched in the other. As he drew closer, people could see his red face and hear his mumbled apologies as he approached and slowed.

That concludes the first part. I have two things to say:
1. That is my work, so please don't steal it. I worked very hard on it. I don't think bad of y'all, but I'm just putting that out there.
2. I really need a title-- right now the title is "Together Only to Say Goodbye" which really sucks. I would really not want to read a book with that title and it makes the book sound really sappy and ugggg. The summary is posted below this because forum doesn't like such long posts. Short titles would be great... Your help would be appreciated, any suggestion would be great!!!

"You have to be odd to be number one." -- Dr. Seuss
Why do liquid metals (or nearly liquid ones, I still love you Gallium) never cease to interest me?
Would a dragon fruit be less fascinating if it was called by another name?


  • LunarEclipseLunarEclipse HogwartsPosts: 58
    And here is the summary that I promised if you read the whole thing...
    Ashe Skye Grey has always lived in rural Kentucky, soaking up the breeze on her father's farm and exploring the finer points of nuclear physics. After her parents divorced when she was four years old, her mother moved to Alaska. Ashe tried to continue corresponding with her mother, but her mother’s replies were dry and forced. When news arrive that her mother has pancreatic cancer and only months to live if she doesn't survive the treatment, Ashe finally decides to visit her mother. Upon arriving in Alaska, Ash doesn't know if she should spend time to get to know her mother and miss her more when she’s gone, especially after her mother shutting her out all of these years, or if she should keep herself from getting too attached and not have to suffer even more heartbreak upon death. Ashe knows which path is right, but she has already felt guilty and sad for years about not going with her mother after the divorce that it just hurts more to be with her distant mother. Racked with indecision as her mother fades, Ashe picks up one of the many books in her spare bedroom in Alaska to escape reality and finds her self reading an autobiographic piece created by her mother that explains. Everyone has a story to tell.
    "You have to be odd to be number one." -- Dr. Seuss
    Why do liquid metals (or nearly liquid ones, I still love you Gallium) never cease to interest me?
    Would a dragon fruit be less fascinating if it was called by another name?
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