It’s Saturday at the Confabulator Cafe. If’ you’ve been following things here during the month of November, you know that many of our writers are participating in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). Without further ado (although, really, can you ever have too much ado?), we’re posting this week’s standings. Congrats to all our writers for doing so amazing!
As of last night at midnight, here are our standings:
Jessi Levine (47,710 up from 28,016 words)
Paul Swearingen (47,599 up from 26,826 words)
Jason Arnett (36,805 up from 22,267 words)
A subsonic hum rose slowly all around them, holding them close, hugging them in the near-darkness. The entire room shuddered causing them all to take a step backward. Lily plastered herself to Albert. Marion made some arcane-looking gestures, trailing light from her fingertips as she did so.
What’s going on?
Yinmenmic is taking the city airborne.
R.L. Naquin (35,546 up from 25,572 words)
“Sara,” I said, looking over my computer at her. “If you ever accept another job from her, I will publicly humiliate you with the story about the Easter Bunny and the edible panties.”
Riley perked up. “What? I want to know this story. I want it very much.” He leaned against the doorframe with his arms folded, waiting.
Sara threw her empty paper cup at him. “You’ll get nothing, and you’ll like it.”
Ashley M. Poland (34,239 up from 19,407 words)
JQ wakes up to Rod leaning over him. He’s drinking a cup of coffee and still wearing his pajamas. “The household is on lock down,” he says. “The press is having a field day with you, sir. There’s footage of you leaping out of the windshield of a busted QR-2340 while holding a baby. People can’t decide if you’re a hero, or if Doctor P is a negligent cow for allowing a racer in her midst.”
Christie Holland (33,473 up from 22,501 words) — Municipal Liaison
Ted Boone (28,061 up from 16,941 words)
New title: A Swiftness Beyond Night
Aspen Junge (25,630 up from 14,850 words)
Sara Lundberg (24,053 up from 12,602 words) — Municipal Liaison
Only in hell would they keep giving you hope that there is more to life than monotony, more to love than heartbreak, more to the future than broken dreams…then crush it utterly just when you feel you’re on the brink of something good. Hope was Hell, so what was the point of an entire realm dedicated to constant torture?
Larry Jenkins (23,716 up from 14,524 words)
I turned my head and found the business end of a hunting rifle pointed at my face. So this is what it feels like to piss yourself, I thought.
Kevin Wohler (21,948 up from 13,163 words)
The magazine stories and newspapers didn’t do him justice. Max Fortune rippled with energy. Not just magic, but raw, sexual energy. Looking at him made me want to trade in my college degree for a small cottage in the English countryside where I could give birth to several masculine children and spend my days ironing his puffy purple shirts. If DNA from Errol Flynn, Clark Gable, and Cary Grant had been genetically combined into a super baby, it might have looked like Max’s uglier little brother.
Jack Campbell, Jr. (12,430 up from 9,000 words)
Leave a Reply