Officially at 13,000 words (give or take a few!) One quarter of the way through!
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Afterward, I dreamed that my dad yelled that I had written the story all wrong and that the aftermath of the collapse on Duluth, MN would look nothing like I’d written it. I fled to the bathroom, and tried to put makeup on for some high school banquet I was about to be late for. I had put on skin correctors of different colors for different parts of my face, except they were glossy and glittery in patriotic red and blue and would not smooth in.
I walked into my room, and clicked the mouse on my computer, reading the notes I had taken when I interviewed a Texas secessionist for my story. I remembered standing on the loading dock as he stood there, semiautomatic rifle slung across his back, explaining that the patriots needed to get the country back from the foreigners. I wrote down the words, sickened.
I tried to dress as quickly as possible, sensing that I would never arrive at the banquet that I would be honored at.
I woke up, reminding myself that the words are important and wondering if I was ever going to get them out in an order that would compel people to read them.
Words Like Me 