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 157: “You’re welcome,” she said.
“You’re welcome,” she said. “It shouldn’t be too bad,” Margaret continued. “We have a concrete task to accomplish. I find her easier to deal with in those situations. Without a concrete task she tends to drift. With one she will focus to get it done and out of the way so that she can get on to more pleasant things. It is one of her better traits actually.”
“Well, I still appreciate it,” Gwen said.
She helped tidy from breakfast and then walked out of the door with her grandfather. George wished her well and Sebastian gave her a wave. Then they were off, the car pulling away from the curb and blending into traffic and Gwen began the walk to class.
It was a good morning. The sun had not yet had time to get warm and people were sluggish getting their day started so there were fewer people on the sidewalk with her. Gwen found she didn’t mind the crowds but enjoyed the quiet when they weren’t as packed as well.
She was the first to arrive for class and when she settled herself at her worktop, Gwen checked the clock. Sure enough she was fifteen minutes earlier than usual.
‘I guess the others missing really did affect the schedule.’
She took out her notebook and looked over her notes for class. She then looked over the notes she made for her applications. Slowly she began piecing her timeline together.
As she went over her list her cell phone buzzed. Normally the vibrations went unnoticed during class but with only her in the room they seemed really loud. Gwen picked up the phone and found out that as her instructor was sick, class was cancelled for the day. The message told her which lessons to study for the following class and told them there would be a makeup later.
‘Well, I guess that’s it,” Gwen said to herself. She gathered her things and put them in her bag. As she prepared to head back to the apartment, the door opened and a man dressed in baker’s whites stick his head in.
“You are hear for the class?” he asked.
“Yes, but I just got the text saying it was cancelled.”
He nodded. “It was. We could use a hand in the bakery if you have no where to be. This far through the class you should have some basic skills.”
“Okay,” Gwen said. He nodded and Gwen put her bag away and followed him out of the classroom, through the connecting corridor and into the bakery.
Ten til Midnight 