My Efforts at Writing a Novel

I signed up to write a novel during the month of November as a part of National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). I thought it would be an awesome way to spend November--cause I'm not opening a play or anything...

This is how far I got on Monday, November 1st.

The winds began to blow. To blow, what a funny idea. I picture an old man huffing and puffing at the top of the mountain. Then again, with the word “winds”—now I picture a group of people dressed in greek robes, dancing about blowing in long horns down the canyons—watching their handy breath zip through the trees. Whatever image this phrase conjures in your mind, just go with it. The fact remains, the winds began to blow.
When the winds blow the leaves fall. Here on this mountain, the leaves are dry and orange. Or rather, rust. In Virginia, the leaves suck up moisture throughout the summer and appear radiantly green, almost glowing. In Utah, the leaves cling to whatever shade of green nature and a sparse amount of water will confer on them. And in the fall, the Virginia leaves change to radiant shades of gold, red, orange, and violet. In Utah, the leaves turn to rust and then to dust. I enjoyed that little rhyme.
As the leaves fell across the driveway, I heard my grandmother scoot out the front door to tackle clearing the little invaders off of her clean white driveway. I threw on a bra and pair of shoes—(never you fear, the other clothes were happily hanging on my exhausted frame) and ran out to help her. Leaves are stubborn little monsters. They cling to the grass, the driveway, to the road.