1,000 Daily Challenge: Day One

This is not me, but I rather wish it was.

I made it!... for today at least.  One thousand, one hundred and twenty words have been added to The Rochesters, and today's theme was "write now, edit later."  I'm not tremendously pleased with what I've written, but I keep reminding myself to just keep swimming and wait to revise 'til it's all finished.

We'll have to wait and see how well THAT goes.  They don't call me "Miss Compulsive Tweaker" for nothing.  Oh, wait, they don't call me that at all...

...well, they should.

I didn't get up early to write today, nor did I do anything special.  I just sat down at the computer at three different intervals throughout the day and pecked out a few hundred words.  It wasn't really that hard... which is why I'm going to make myself do 1500 tomorrow.  I'm still calling this the 1,000 Daily Challenge for two reasons: a) because I don't like changing the names of things unless I have to (it tends to confuse people) and b) because just in case I don't make 1500 tomorrow, I'll still have the 1,000 to fall back on and won't feel quite as guilty.

Ahem moving on.  Snippets from today's work, here we come!  (All of these hail from The Rochesters.)

“Actually, Lemmins is spelled with two M’s and an I. L-e-m-m-i-n-s.”

“Really?” The girl at the counter wrinkled her nose. “I’ve never heard it spelled that way… are you sure?”

Sylvia was tempted to say, “Oh, yes of course. It’s actually Lemons. How silly of me, not to be able to spell my own name,” but she reflected that this might be considered rude and decided not to make remarks.

Alice reached out a dreamy hand for a butter knife, slit the envelope, and ever-so-slowly pulled the letter out. She was evidently enjoying the drama of the moment.

Francie appeared in the doorway. “Why’d it get so quiet down here all of a sudden? Is anyone dead?”

“It’s a letter from Aunt Maria,” said Celia in hollow tones.

“Oooooh.” Francie flew across the scratched linoleum to peer over Alice’s shoulder.

Alice read very fast, mouthing words to herself occasionally as the others waited with held breath. Sylvia still had only a vague idea of what was going on, but the melodramatic excitement in the air was contagious. She was going to start sneezing with the jitters in a minute, she just knew it.

Alice let out a huff. “Okay, well, [Mark] says he won’t be a groomsman. Period.”

“Then don’t make him be one,” said Celia. “Let him sit unnoticed in one of the pews with a paper bag over his head if he wants to. Case closed. I’m going back to—”

Alice caught the hem of Celia’s skirt and dragged her back to the bed. “It’s not that simple.”

It sounded simple enough to Sylvia. Besides which, permitting Mark to sit in church with a paper bag over his head sounded entertaining, but she was keeping her mouth shut.