Weekend Write-In Story Collection

NaNo Writers

In 500 words, tell the tale of an unwanted interference. Written for the Weekend Write-In prompt themed "Meddle", 13-15 November 2015.

Two writers who are participating in the National Novel Writing Month take a coffee break

The Coffee Break

"Hey, Michael. How's your NaNo novel coming along?"

"Slowed a lot a few days ago... I was moving along well... Just over twenty-four thousand at the end of day seven. Now I'm down to half that speed."

"Wow! twenty-four thousand the first week. That's burning along. And you have to retype everything a few times with your dyslexia. You'd be approaching a hundred thousand without that.

"Nah... It doesn't flow out of my mind that quickly, just a bit faster than my hunt-and-peck." They both laughed.

"But twenty-four the first week, that's really good."

"Yeah, I thought so too. I was pleased with the progress to that point. Before it slowed. How's yours coming?

"Disappointingly slow. Today's the end of the second week. I'm still below par... Not far. I've pulled up to needing just over seventeen hundred words per day."

"That should be no problem for you."

"Yeah, just a bit more push each day. Where's your count now — end of the second week."

"I poked through thirty-eight thousand last night before I quit for the day, hoping to hit forty thousand by the end of today, the end of day fourteen."

"And you're complaining? Wish I had your problem."

"Careful what you wish for," Michael chuckled. I've buggered my finger and have a big plot hole that needs repair. I need a break. Join me at Starbucks for coffee?"

"That's why I phoned you — twenty minutes?"

"See you there."

David and Michael have been friends for years, encouraging and heckling each other as they write. They're both pantsers, not planners and they've been mutual beta readers from the beginning. This year they decided to participate in NaNoWriMo, the National Novel Writing Month. The aim is to encourage writers to write fifty thousand words in thirty days.

They met outside the Starbucks door and went in to join the line. "Place is always busy," Michael said as they waited. "Have you discovered where your story's going yet?"

"It's sideswiped me several times now. I started out with the fellow in a Napoleonic War setting. Somehow the plot seemed more appropriate to World War One, so I followed it there, rewriting the beginning. Still have a lot of patching up to do. Same area in Belgium, but a century later."

"Why don't you do a timeless omniscient looking down on the same setting over the ages? That corner of the planet has been a major battleground for centuries."

"Wow! You're always so spot on... Wonderful idea. I still have the first version... I can paste it in... Wow!" They placed their orders, paid and moved to the pick-up counter. "Your story still doing the restaurant reviewer thing?"

"Mostly, but it's gone a bit strange. Something dark out of the blue. I'll keep following it, though."

David looked at Michael's hand as he reached for his cup. "Cut your finger?"

"No, broke it three days ago. Awkward splint. Ever try hunting and pecking with a splinted middle finger meddling and interfering?"