I’m writing this Thursday evening, with a word count of 28,255. I’m about 2 days ahead of schedule, a am cruising.
I think it’s because I have such a good idea of what happening in the story right now and how I want the next six months of the story to play out. There are definitely parts that I’m going to do some serious chopping off, but I’m pleased with so much of what I’ve written.
This is my word count graph (again as of Thursday evening). Can you tell which day I was sick?
So, a little bit about my story, in case you’re unfamiliar. I’ve been writing a historical fiction novel about John Laurens and Alexander Hamilton. It has a slow burn romance, some living in very small rooms, and some American Revolution. I’m not good at writing war parts, but I think it’s getting better. This week I wrote the Battle of Monmouth which is a huge plot point in this story because of how the fallout this battle effects the remainder of John and Alexander’s relationship.
Historically, John Laurens was pretty terribly wounded at Monmouth, so most of what I’ve been writing this week has been John recovering. It’s thrilling stuff. (hashtag sarcasm).
The piece I want to share today is Lafayette telling John what happened after John was shot. I didn’t want it to be all Lafayette speaking, partly because of how I write Lafayette’s dialogue. If you are so willing I would like feedback if you think this works in the narrative.
The last thing John remembered before his world went dark was the ungodly scream of his own name echoing through the valley, that was, predictably, Alexander. The moment John hit the ground, Alexander ripped off his uniform jacket and pressed it into the wound on John’s side trying to stem the bleeding whilst screaming for a medic.
When the doctor arrived, and Hamilton stepped away, he was covered in blood. He pulled his hand over his face as he stepped back, and his face, too, bore red streaks. It was everywhere. In his hair, soaking through his clothes, it was as if Hamilton had been shot instead of John. It took four men to carry John into the courthouse, which had turned into a make shift hospital. Both sides were tending to the wounded inside.
Hamilton paced the inside of the makeshift hospital.
“As I paced the halls of our home while I waited for Adrienne to give birth,” Lafayette explained. “It was terrible to watch. It broke my heart to pieces.”
Once John was stable, and they waited for someone with surgical experience to come and fix his insides, Meade and Tilghman forced Alexander to go back outside, rejoin the lines.
“Monsieur Laurens,” Lafayette said flatly. “I have never been so afraid of what someone was going to do.”
Hamilton’s eyes were feral. He picked up a discarded musket and charged the front line of British without command. He stabbed as many Red Coats as he could get within his reach with a skilled proficiency—as if this task was the only thing he’d been up on this earth to accomplish. It took three men to pull him away. To stop him from trying to take the whole British Army by himself. He had to be dragged back to the safe area near General Washington. He was forced to sit, back against the courthouse, still covered from head to foot in John’s blood, sweat and tears mixing with what remained on his face.
“He leaned back, head tilted to the sky and let out the most anguished cry I have ever in my life heard,” Lafayette continued. “It was the noise of a wounded animal. I was at a loss of what to do. I could not comfort my friend because I would have to leave my post, but I knew there was nothing I could say.”
Twice Alexander tried to get back to his feet. Twice Alexander was bodily shoved back down to the ground by other soldiers.
“He sat against that wall and shook, crying, his whole body convulsed,” Lafayette said. “I cannot explain it, Jack.”
I’m very proud of what I’ve been able to write so far. I think I’ve pulled some good words out of me. We’ll see what it turns into at the end of this whole thing.
I wish you all luck with your own NaNo journies. Keep writing, you’re doing amazing!
Until next time Internet,