First off, a little background information.
As a writer, I'm still very much in the infant stages of what I hope will one day resemble a career. I'm not merely talking skill level or number of publications, but also in terms of maturity and level of commitment. I'm hovering at the edge of trying to make time for writing on a full-time basis, reluctantly holding back for fear of financial obligations and practicality.
Cherry Estates was a challenge for me to attempt to write (more or less) every day. In addition, I wanted to try something I'd never really done before: to write something scary.
With regards to writing every day, this was actually pretty successful. In terms of volume, it clocked in at just under 15,000 words. With this taking about 35 days to finish, that makes just under 500 words per day (just shy of 2 double-spaced pages). For comparison's sake, NaNoWriMo, or National Novel Writing Month, demands a goal of 50,000 words over 30 days (about 1,666 words per day). Stephen King claims to write 2,000 words per day, saying that "only under dire circumstances do I allow myself to shut down before I get my 2,000 words".
As a writer, I'm still very much in the infant stages of what I hope will one day resemble a career. I'm not merely talking skill level or number of publications, but also in terms of maturity and level of commitment. I'm hovering at the edge of trying to make time for writing on a full-time basis, reluctantly holding back for fear of financial obligations and practicality.
Cherry Estates was a challenge for me to attempt to write (more or less) every day. In addition, I wanted to try something I'd never really done before: to write something scary.
With regards to writing every day, this was actually pretty successful. In terms of volume, it clocked in at just under 15,000 words. With this taking about 35 days to finish, that makes just under 500 words per day (just shy of 2 double-spaced pages). For comparison's sake, NaNoWriMo, or National Novel Writing Month, demands a goal of 50,000 words over 30 days (about 1,666 words per day). Stephen King claims to write 2,000 words per day, saying that "only under dire circumstances do I allow myself to shut down before I get my 2,000 words".
(click here for previous part)
Ashley didn't know what she expected to find up there. Monsters? Witches? A portal into Hell itself? But there could be no going back at this point. She could feel the insidious presence that had corrupted the minds of the other residents eating away at her mind. Lord only knew what effect it was having on her two companions. Pat looked shifty; flashlight in one hand, wrench in the other, and Travis' eyes flatly refused to meet hers. Perhaps he was still in shock from the sudden, horrible loss of Catherine. Ashley sincerely hoped that was all their was to Travis' sullen silence.
Abruptly, the flashlight started to flicker. Pat swore and tapped it against his leg. "I thought you kept that thing charged all the time," Ashley said.
Blackout at Cherry Estates: Part VIII
It was darker up there, impossibly so. Everything natural would say that it should be no more or less pitch black than the rest of the building, yet somehow the third floor conveyed an altogether unsettling feeling that threw nature right out the door.Ashley didn't know what she expected to find up there. Monsters? Witches? A portal into Hell itself? But there could be no going back at this point. She could feel the insidious presence that had corrupted the minds of the other residents eating away at her mind. Lord only knew what effect it was having on her two companions. Pat looked shifty; flashlight in one hand, wrench in the other, and Travis' eyes flatly refused to meet hers. Perhaps he was still in shock from the sudden, horrible loss of Catherine. Ashley sincerely hoped that was all their was to Travis' sullen silence.
Abruptly, the flashlight started to flicker. Pat swore and tapped it against his leg. "I thought you kept that thing charged all the time," Ashley said.
(click here for previous part)
Ashley worriedly regarded Catherine as they bundled into the tight entryway. She had turned mute, arms limp at her sides. Grief would likely come later, but right now she was just numb. Ashley rubbed her shoulder, but Catherine didn't even glance up from her laconic stare.
"So what the fuck's going on?" Travis demanded. "You all seem to know more than I do."
Ashley took a moment to take in Travis' apartment. It was in a state of colossal disarray. His coffee table had been shattered, the safety glass neatly distributed in a thin layer of round beads across the carpet. A bookshelf on the far wall from the entrance was overturned. One of the trendy paintings that lined the walls had fallen, jarred from its hook by a tremendous force.
Blackout at Cherry Estates: Part VII
"Make yourselves at home," Travis said, quietly shutting the door behind them. His apartment was right at the end of the hall on the second floor, outside the staircase where they had found the stretched layer of material that Ashley sincerely hoped wasn't flesh. Where they had lost Michael.Ashley worriedly regarded Catherine as they bundled into the tight entryway. She had turned mute, arms limp at her sides. Grief would likely come later, but right now she was just numb. Ashley rubbed her shoulder, but Catherine didn't even glance up from her laconic stare.
"So what the fuck's going on?" Travis demanded. "You all seem to know more than I do."
Ashley took a moment to take in Travis' apartment. It was in a state of colossal disarray. His coffee table had been shattered, the safety glass neatly distributed in a thin layer of round beads across the carpet. A bookshelf on the far wall from the entrance was overturned. One of the trendy paintings that lined the walls had fallen, jarred from its hook by a tremendous force.