Camp Nano

I’ve signed up,it’s offical. For some reason I need not only a goal to make time for writing,but a public goal that could lead in humilation if not completed or something.
(I also think I need meaner friends though, because y’all were all way to easy on me when I didn’t complete Nanowrimo.)
I’m completely kidding on that last part,I’m a complete and utter weenie when it comes to meaness directed at myself.
But I still want concrit if it’s helpful,I promise you.
Ugh,that’s horrible- ignore all of that except the starting Camp nano part.
The story is something I thought of while working with my writing group and inspired by pinterest. Consequently  I’ve tried to stay off pinterest until I done more than with this project. The problem with me is not finding ideas to write, it’s the sticking it through and doinv something with the ideas.
Another problem is that I ramble in blog post,sorry.
The story is called Techie war and while I had written a start to that story I never went futher than that and have now decided to write a new beginning.
I’m told it’s a dystopian novel and even though I never knew what that meant before I was told that, I agree.

Several things have happened to make it a different world than we live in now. The first of these is a Hacker Bombing. A group of Hackers caused bombs to go off across the world but mainly in America, there was no real reason for them to do this besides wanting to prove that they could pull it off. There will be a twist concerning this at the end of the story but for now assume it was all ego-inflated Hackers. (I’ve probably said too much.) These bombings caused several groups who were already weary of how technologically reliant the world was becoming to separate from the majority and form their own community. Think Amish but not really religious- there will be religious people in this group, actually several types of religions, but the group itself just wants a return to a more natural lifestyle. They make their own clothing, they live off the land- they’ve formed communities off in parts of England and Ireland somewhere. (I’m calling them Waldorfs for now.)  The Techies are the majority and after the bombings they embraced technology more but with one exception, internet use is now highly controlled, regulated and watched. All media, art and even clothing have to be sanctioned. Most things in Techie world are manufactured and the separating of the two groups has led to Techies snubbing anything natural and instead only using mostly synthetic, manmade objects. The second thing that has happened most recently when this story takes place is a small (very small) uprising of college aged rebels trying to shut down the government’s main computer. This has led to even more regulations and distrust of anyone who has Waldorf sympathies or is artistic or nature loving. (As the techie and Waldorf communities have continued growing there are now grievances between how much land each should be allowed, obviously the Waldorfs want more land to grow their food and lifestock but the techies outnumber them and have begun wanting to take over the land that the Waldorfs own and refuse to sell.

Main Characters:

Diana Greaves- wife of Basil, mother to Cynthia and stepmother to Andrew. She is American and was a well-known artist before the techie wars

Basil Greaves- multi billionaire head of GlobalTech, a technology empire which has grown substantially since the start of the techie wars (Techie wars; name given to what led to the bombings and the separation and disputes between the Waldorfs and the Techies, think cold war- it’s not an actual ongoing battle or anything) He is English, extremely controlling and a little cold but always polite.

Andrew Greaves-Basil’s 13 year son from a former marriage

Cynthia Greaves- Basil and Diana’s 6 year old daughter

Arthur Burke- longtime friend and associate of Basil, good friend of Diana

Tessa Miller-Green- Diana’s mother, a seamstress and artist who works in fabrics

Simon Green- leader of the Waldorf community, Diana’s stepfather

All I truly hope from Camp Nano is to get writing done on a more regular basis and to get this story started, I know what I end up with may be a hot mess but I’m hoping to be able to gleam something from it.

Will you be doing Camp Nano this year?


The summer when I was ten years old my sister came home from the mental hospital. She had been in there for eight months already and my mother wanted her home with us. So she had her discharged against doctor’s orders.

It wasn’t a big deal- this is what I was told. In fact the whole happenstance of my sister even having been in a mental hospital was treated in the same way. She had been resting, that’s all, she’s not crazy, and her blank, glazed over eyes and slack mouth which refused to form words were just something to ignore.

I had hated that place and our Sunday visits to it. My mom would leave me in the common room where patients who were better off would roam freely and she and my dad would go fetch my sister for a visit. It wasn’t a visit though really, they’d wheel her out in a chair and she’s stare at us or rather through us while my mother talked on and on about what we had been up to that week. Mom would glare at me if I didn’t try to talk to my sister too. So I’d mumble something about my week and then I was allowed to go back to looking out the windows that faced the parking lot and dare someone to see me. They never did, the windows were the kind that let you look out but don’t allow anyone see you- but I’d try anyway. I thought that if I could focus on the guy crossing the street hard enough maybe he would look up or if that failed maybe I could make him trip or something.

I didn’t really want anyone tearing up their legs on pavement, mind you, it was just a diversion, and it was an escape. I hated the way everything around me felt sterile and yet dirty. The whole place smelt of Clorox and underlying sickness and sometimes I held my breath until the point where I had to gasp for air which only made the smell flood through my nose all at once.

But the summer my sister came home wasn’t that much better. She was off all of the drugs that kept her in a permanent stupor but the wordlessness had given way to the speech of a five year old. She even took to calling me big sister and following my mother wherever she went, holding on the end of her skirt. She was afraid of the dark now and shrieked through the night until she was finally able to go sleep. And I was made to play dolls with her when my mother needed a rest.

My mother found us a big tub of Barbie dolls at a garage sale for our play dates. It was so bizarre to be forced to sit in a room with this stranger, this eighteen year old in pig tails who giggled and then stomped if I didn’t giggle back. It was surreal and even the ten year old me knew it wrong.   But my mother seemed so happy about it all, happy to see the two us playing together. She was so happy to have her daughter home again so we all pretended that all of it was normal. And I hoped that it would pass soon so that I could go back to really being a normal kid again. That hope was like something that shimmered from afar, something to cling to for someone who just felt very scared and alone in the whole situation, someone who felt like her feelings must be strange when everyone else seemed like all was alright.

But I was never really able to feel normal again.