Goddagens alla wrimos och icke-wrimos! (har jag sagt detta förut?) Det är nu dag 21 på mitt uppdrag som heter NaNoWriMo och jag ligger faktiskt lite efter i mitt wordcount. Lite synd, eftersom jag har varit helt ikapp hittills om inte legat före. Men men, jag jobbar på. Det flyter liksom på och jag planerar att lägga till citat i början av mina kapitel om det slutar flyta. JAG TROR DETTA KOMMER GÅ VÄGEN. Eller det måste ju liksom gå vägen, eftersom det är mitt projektarbete. Känner pressen lix.
Om det nu finns nån annan wrimo som läser detta, sökandes efter gemenskap i detta skitväder det hela tiden kan tyckas vara i November månad, så har jag med mig ett tips till er!
KOLLA IN DETTA! Det heter "Blurb" och detta företag kan man använda sig av för att få ut sin egen bok i faktisk bokform utan att behöva gå genom ett förlag. Jag tror att jag ska göra detta, som en kul grej. Jag har råkat hört ett rykte om att skolan ska tillhandahålla 500 kr till projektarbetet om så behövs och då skulle jag kunna lägga mina egna pengar på godis och chips! Hoppas det stämmer. Om inte så får jag väl lägga mina egna pengar på det, det är inte farligt dyrt, liksom bara värt det. Kanske man skulle ta tag i föregående års historier också, editera och skaffa en egen liten Felicia-kollektion av litteratur. Det vore liksom RÄTT SÅ KUL tänker jag mig. Lovar alla som också skriver håller med??
Nedan följer även ett utdrag ur min bok, det är bara att hoppa över nästa stycke. Det är en sidohistoria om en mindre bikaraktär som jag fyllt ett kapitel med för att ge ett antal nya nyanser och tankar igång. Jag tycker att det är jättelätt att glömma att varje ansikte vi nånsin ser också har ett helt liv bakom och framför sig, för att inte tala om sin absolut egna verklighet. Därför skrev jag ett sånt kapitel. Det är på engelska, så BEWARE and enjoy. (Eller liksom, ni behöver ju inte, ni får om ni vill.)
Good Day to you my fellow wrimos and non-wrimos! (Is that phrase getting old?) It's now Day 21 of NaNoWriMo and I'm a bit behind on my wordcount. A bit of a disappointment since I've been ahead many times this far. I'm working hard though, I'm in kind of a flow and I'm planning on adding a couple of quotes to the beginning of my chapters. I BELIEVE I CAN DO THIS. Or, more like I have to, since I made it my final project in school. Oh the pressure.
If I HAVE other wrimos reading this, searching for companionship in this rough time of the year, I have a tip for you!
RIGHT HERE! It's called "Blurb" and it allows you to print your own novel so that you can have a copy of your very own book without having to depend on a publishing company. I think that I'll do it. I've heard a promising rumour about my school owing me a small subsidy for my project, that could pay for the printing, should the rumour have some basis. If not, I'll just pay for it myself. I'm thinking of actually getting around to editing my previous novels as well, to be able to get them printed as well. It would just be SO. MUCH. FUN. I bet all who are writing this november agrees with me, there's something very appealing about it.
Also, I've added a chapter filled with stories of smaller characters, giving substance to the people around us that we may never give enough credit. Many often forget that every face we see in our lifetime also has an entire life behind and ahead of them. That's why I wrote this chapter. So I'm adding one of these short stories below. Enjoy! (Or not, you don't have to.)
Back in Russia he had shot many people. He was good at it too. He wasn’t called Alezandr Novokov by the freedom group, instead they called him just Nova, meaning he was new - in this case they meant he was the bringer of the new. He still thought of himself always as Alexandr, becasuse he knew his name meant ‘defender of man’ and he thought that that was exactly what he was doing. And he did it good, did the thigns others couldn’t. In his region he was thought the one who would finish it all, that which had started so long ago, that was the measure of his success. His success in getting rid of difficult targets. Many government officials, uprising conservatives for the party, big sponsors. He remembered all of their faces, still. At first he hadn’t done that, he’d abrely remembered them the day after blowing their heads off. He didn’t need to. But then, he got an assignment, that turned out to be his last. He was to go to the girls’ private school just on the outskirts of Moscow. There he was to walk from bed to bed and shoot all the girls. The movement had threatened some important officials, but they didn’t take them seriously enough. They didn’t know that all the killings was the doing of them, they had some fantasy about many small independent groups being responsible. They simply thought that organazing such deeds would be impossible with the surveillance they had on the population since countless years back.
They were wrong though. They should have taken the threats seriously. Because now “the New” came running, off to kill their daughters to get the message across. He really thought he could do it too, they were just people even if they were miniature ones. So he walked from bed to bed, killing them all with lethal injections, as even a silent gun could have woken them up. It was all ok, he was fine, they looked as if they were still just sleeping, dreaming peacefully. But then he came to the last bed and the girl sat up and looked right at him. She obviously hadn’t heard what he’d done or she should have been terrified. She just sat there and kept looking at him, straight in the eye. She had the biggest eyes he’d ever seen on a child, or maybe they were just so observant making them look big. Now he had to kill her, he knew that. But this time it was different. She didn’t know to be afraid of him, didn’t know how much blood he’d had on his hands and in his hair and on his clothes, so she started talking like he was a friend of hers since way back. He remembered every word she’d said.
“I just had a nightmare, so good you’re here so I don’t have to be alone.” she started. He didn’t know why, but he just sat down quietly on the end of her bed and waited for her to tell him about her dream. He didn’t mean to, it just happened. He was actually really intent on killing her right away so that she wouldn’t have a face. But it was already too late. She had a face all right. Big shiny eyes and round cheeks.
“You see my parents left me here, and I really didn’t want to come here I just wanted to be at home, we eat porridge every day because they say it’s healthy. It’s really just gross. Since they left me here I haven’t slept properly for a night, I have bad dreams all the time. Tonight I dreamt that my parents died and they couldn’t get me, because they were in heaven. Still they called me every week to tell me that they were very disappointed that I never came home to visit, and that my teddy missed me and that mom had made cookies waiting for me. But they were dead so nobody would come get me. And then all the kids were swimming away from me, in a lake, and I got stuck and lived there forever - like the algae does.”
He just nodded and felt the injection hidden in his big hand. He thought that maybe he’d have to use some chloroform that he’d brought just in case. She interrupted those thoughts of his with her puny little voice.
“I’m Yana, who are you?” she asked the strange man. He felt a stab to his heart. Yana means “God is gracious” but this girl would have to die.
“I’m Alexandr. What a beautiful name you have, that was my mother’s name” he said to her, trying to smile a little but not sure if he managed. He was no longer comfortable with his role. Wasn’t he the defender? Then why didn’t he defend Yana? No, he put her down in bed again and sang a little lullaby, told her a little about his home and his mother, also reassuring her that not only does algae not live forever but that she was sure to return home very soon, that someone would come for her. When she then finally fell asleep he injected her with the poison, kissed her forhead and left.
Soon, the next day, he’d fled the country, saying nothing more to his superiors than that he’d completed the mission without fail. He had gone down to the slavic countries and from there made his way to Greece, where he by chance stumbled upon a man called Rafael. The old man heard his story, which he told in a moment of desperation when he was looking for someone to kill him, but Rafael didn’t even flinch. He just nodded and sighed a couple of times. He told Alexandr that it was of the past and that all he could do was live, as Yana never had the chance to. And he then said, this time he was talking to the new Alexandr;
“Yana is with God. And God is gracious.”
