Some of you may know this already, but this year I’m
doing attempting to do Camp NaNoWriMo. NaNoWriMo being National Novel Writing Month, requiring one to write one 50k+ novel, and taking place in November, CAMP NaNo is far more lowkey, flexible, and takes place in April and July.
Being the indecisive human being that I am, I didn’t decide to do this until April 1. I had 2% of an outline and an extensive aesthetic list, plus a Sherlock wall-
-to work off of, but no character names, a vague idea that maybe the friend-who-shows-up-randomly should be female, and a large hot chocolate to drown my sorrows and bad decisions in.
Fast forward half the month (HALF THE MONTH OK I DIDN’T REALIZE THAT UNTIL NOW SOMEONE PLS HELP), it’s…. I honestly don’t know what’s going on. I’ve gotten about 7k towards that story in particular but made huge leaps and bounds for the Lost Isle. No editing, as I told myself April would be for. *staring hard at self and coughing not-so-discreetly*. I DO have 20k words so far, so I’m on track for 40,000 thank goodness. (After realizing how much Life I have to deal with this month, I decided against a full 50k)
In the coming few days, there’ll probably be a few posts revolving around this particular WIP- The Reasons I Stay Indoors– so keep an eye out!
When Anya Mattson breaks into her old friend Hope’s apartment after solo traveling the world for three years, she is taken aback by the frosty reception- but has no choice but to stay there for a while.
Hope Walsh doesn’t like people. And being a semi-famous internet artist, she doesn’t normally have to interact with them face-to-face. But when her old -and very outgoing- friend Anya shows up unexpectedly, her world is flipped upside down.
I probably shouldn’t have gone to Japan.
I mean, it’s notorious for being expensive in the budget-travel world, but I had so much fun. I might have had to buy an emergency one-piece swimsuit once I had been… made aware that tattoos were not acceptable in some public pools, but all in all, it had quickly become one of my favorite locations. I’d met up with some other travelers- few girls, few guys, and this really sweet newlywed couple- at a bar, and we’d all hit it off. I got to know one of the girls especially well, but she’d left for Tanzania a week before I’d realized exactly how screwed my bank account was. I’d only had enough to get me a plane here, and a taxi a little farther. I might not have seen Hope in years, but with any luck, she wouldn’t call the cops on me.
Not that my track record with luck was all that great.
I’d knocked on her door and rang the doorbell, but with the faint sound of singing and a shower running, she likely wasn’t in a position to answer. So I moved next door to ask the neighbor if I could use the balcony. I’d always known that bouldering had been a handy class to take. Hope hadn’t locked the back door, thankfully, so I slid it open as quietly as possible, and settled myself on the couch to wait and pray that she didn’t try to kill me.
In the meantime, I looked around and tried to surmise what kind of person she’d become. I remembered her to have been the quiet kid, always carrying some new massive book and doodling on her jeans. It was kind of a miracle that we’d been friends, but we were both outcasts for our various reasons. That, in a way, pushed us together. We sat together at lunch every day- she read, I talked. I don’t know if she even ever listened to me, but if she did- I shuddered to think of what she might remember.
There wasn’t any television, but there was a computer on a desk by the window. The screensaver was running, and a stoneware plate, decorated with scone crumbs, sat off to the side. The smell of said scone hung in the air, and the scone itself rested on a cooling rack on the counter. A baker, then.
Above the desk, sketches were taped up. As in, good sketches. I mean, she’d been good back when we were in school, but this was ridiculous. Some of them were colored, others weren’t, but that didn’t change anything. I recognized a few of the fanart from my Tumblr dashboard, and realized that she must have been the artist. Well then. So she was internet famous.
A massive built-in bookshelf dominated the wall across from me, the fact that it was over-filled the smallest surprise of all. Hope had had a new book to read every day. She’d barely passed Algebra because she’d read in class- a sixty-three percent, if I remembered correctly. Her parents had been furious, and for weeks after that, she’d always had red eyes. Hope hadn’t been the greatest with managing stress, but I got it. Some things in life were more important than academic merit, and some people didn’t understand that.
Of course, that was before I’d bought a plane ticket and started paying tuition for online classes. The plane ticket had won out, the at-your-own pace classes very quickly took the back burner, and the financial situation became dire.
Not that I noticed until I was broke. Funny, how everything seems perfect when you’re thousands of miles from home and living the life you dreamed of when you were seven years old.
The shower turned off, and the singing stopped. I craned my neck to try and catch a glimpse of myself in the reflection of the window, and I brushed a strand of hair out of my face. I re-situated myself, propping my backpack up against the couch.
And then the door was opening, and Hope Walsh stepped out.
Her eyes widened as she noticed me, and when I offered a tentative wave, her mouth opened into a perfect ‘o’. A silent scream. She was wrapped in a towel, still wet from the shower, so I guess I understood why she might be a bit perturbed- not to mention that I had literally broken into her apartment. It was obviously not the greatest idea I’d ever had but, come on, I was desperate. “Um… hi?”
Hope edged across the hallway, her expression unchanging, before dropping it, dashing into another room- her bedroom- and slammed the door.