Welcome to the Fifteen Minute Novel. Each morning I spend fifteen minutes writing on a singular story line. Each morning starts with the last line of the previous day. The goal is to get a (very) rough draft out of the simple story idea and to avoid letting the story idea languish in limbo forever, actually writing it out. This is the third year I have done this writing experiment and each year I learn just a little bit about myself and the way I write as well as creating a framework for the story. But without further ado…
Day 129: Gwen smiled.
Gwen smiled. “I will,” Gwen told him. When dinner was complete, her cookies were brought out as desert.
“These are very good,” George declared. “I very much approve of this class. I can’t wait until you get into cakes and pies.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Blackberry is my favorite.”
“George,” Margaret said. She was smiling as she shook her head.
“What?” He said. I thought she should know. In case it was an option. I wanted her to know blackberry options would be well received.”
“Has there ever been a sweet you didn’t receive well?” Margaret asked.
“There was a Jello thing once. With canned fruit inside. Mrs. Howard served it with cottage cheese for some reason I will never understand.”
“Mrs. Howard?” Margaret asked. Her forehead crinkled in thought. “We don’t know a Mrs. Howard.”
“Oh it was a long time ago. I was younger than Gwen. She was a neighbor who was friends with my mother. She brought it to a dinner party. She created some sort of tower thing. She was quite proud of it and everyone complemented her on it. And it did look rather spectacular. Like an alien slime monster with canned cherries for eyes attacking a snow covered mountain. Tasted dreadful. And I had nightmares about aliens for weeks. Still can’t eat cottage cheese.”
He looked at Gwen. “If there is an option to skip anything with cottage cheese, go for anything but the cottage cheese. I’m still traumatized.”
“I’ll make sure to skip the cottage cheese and go for the blackberries,” Gwen promised.
“Excellent,” George said. “Do you have baking classes tomorrow?” He asked hopefully.
“Every morning on the weekdays until the class is through,” she told him. But tomorrow afternoon I have the regular cooking class. Those alternate days. But there is no art class tomorrow.”
“Well I’ll start making a list of my favorite foods in case you bring anything home from that class as well,” he told her.
“I suspect she’ll need more at home practice than she would be bringing home meals,” Margaret said. “But if you do, let me know and we’ll adjust so no food goes to waste. And also let me know about groceries so you can practice. We’ll have to make a list and send out for things.”
Gwen nodded. That was something that had been bothering her. She hadn’t seen a grocery store anywhere nearby and knew her grandparents ate out or brought in take out for most dinners. She knew the eggs and other breakfast foods had to come from somewhere though.
“We might want to take a trip to the market this weekend though, just so you can see what is available,” Margaret added.
Ten til Midnight 