500 Going on Fail

So here it is, Day 4 of NaNoWriMo officially. Anyone wanna guess my word count? A staggering 511 words! w00t.

I have to admit though, I only wrote for about an hour on the 2nd...

But now I have the Jason Mraz playing and the creative juices--well, those are actually a bit stilted. I think I'm having trouble concentrating. I thought if I wrote something else first, this project would come easier. So I responded to some RPs to "flesh the crap out" as Christa would say. But as I stare at my dismal word document of a NaNo, I can't think of a single word.

Here's what I have so far (since I promised updates):

            Katie sat in the waiting room of her father’s office absent-mindly flipping through an outdated magazine. Someone had ripped out the pages for a picture of a hot celebrity or for an ad. Katie continued to thumb through it as the clock ticked away. She had been there for forty-five minutes already and would probably be there for another twenty minutes before her father was ready to bring her home to her mother. Every now and then she would look up at her father’s receptionist, Miss Stephanie. Stephanie tacked away at her keyboard barely paying attention to the fifteen year old girl waiting for her father.
            Perfectly manicured French tips danced across the keyboard of the receptionist’s computer. Katie watched as the little strips of white jumped like bugs on the lettered tiles. The beaded bracelet on her left arm shook with each new word. It was like an accidental symphony. There was no music in her father’s waiting room; just an awkward and heavy silence.  Save for the typing.
            The office was too sterile for Katie’s tastes. Her father had decorated the clinically white walls with pictures of landscapes. She didn’t know where these places were or who had painted the pictures, but they were boring. There were no people, no animals; just land. Miles and miles of land stretching from one end of the frame to the other. Apparently, her father thought this relaxed his patients before entering his office. Katie looked at the shut door on the other side of the waiting room. Her father’s name was printed in black lettering on a gold name plate: Dr. Michael Fellows, Psychologist. Katie looked at the clock again. She had been sitting for nearly an hour now. “So, how crazy is this one?”
            The typing stopped and the lady gave Katie a disapproving look. “None of your father’s patients are ‘crazy’,” she mimed quotes in the air. “And even if they were, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. Doctor –patient privilege.” She turned her head back towards her computer monitor and continued typing. Katie tossed the magazine back down with the others and sighed.
            She stared at a painting hanging on the opposite wall from her. The grass was dotted with wildflowers or daisies or something like that. It was a hilly pastoral scene lying under a blue sky. Katie thought the picture could have used a few houses or at least a barn. Maybe an abandoned tool shed so she’d have something to imagine about while she waited for her father. Not much came to mind staring at a field.
            The phone at Miss Stephanie’s desk beeped. She picked up the receiver and said sweetly, “Yes?” There was a pause. Katie instantly recognized the sound of her father’s voice from the other end. “Yes she is, Dr. Fellows.” The receptionist looked over in Katie’s direction then back at her monitor. “A little over an hour now.” There was another pause. “Alright, I’ll tell her. You’re welcome. Goodbye.”
            “He’s going to be a while, isn’t he?”
            Miss Stephanie nodded.


Not too shabby huh? Yeah, well, I'm proud of it. I guess. It's a start. It's very heavily weighted with back story and character establishment. I need to turn that filter off. The one that asks 'Why is this here?' or 'What does this say about that character?' I need the voice that says Fuck that, get the word count! Yeah, where's that voice? 

:~o*'Isianya'*o~:.