NanoWrimo is traditionally for the 30 days of November, but since the site and community dissolved this last year, I attempted something new. With a baby at home, organizing my first middle school drama show, and the craziness that comes with the holidays, I opted for a longer writing window.

With a goal of 30 days, the daily word count is a whopping 1666 words per day, which is the equivalent of 3+ pages, which often takes me 1-2 hours. By increasing to 50 days, it reduced my word count to an even 1000 words per day. Not only was the round number easier to keep track of, the lower requirements allowed me to finish most of my sessions in less than an hour.

More importantly, it was significantly easier to catch up when I fell behind. The only downside was that the 50 days seemed like an eternity. Still at this point, I plan to continue this same schedule next year because

I did it! Even with the baby and everything,
I wrote 50,000 words in 50 days!
I completed my goal.

This year, I wrote a Peter Pan retelling in which Peter and James Hook are brothers, shipwrecked on Neverland, and turned against each other on account of Peter dying and then being possessed by the spirit of Pan himself. It is quite dramatic and far from complete even with 50,000 words complete. In fact, with all the planning and notes I have made, I would guess that it is only about a third of the way to its desired conclusion. Whether we ever get there is impossible to know.

But I would like to share a bit here from when they first wake on the island.

…

I ran along the sand for a time, until my body could not stand it, which probably wasn’t for as long as it seemed. I searched bundles of canvas and seaweed, which both looked like bodies from a distance. As the sun rose into the sky, the island remained rooted in muted grays, and I began to cry. I cried for myself, at the pain in body, at the exhaustion and hunger that was now clawing at my limbs, at the loss of my father, my mother, my brother, and the hope of any happiness in the future.

Which was when Peter appeared again. “Oh, James, there you are!” he squealed.

It took me longer than I would have liked to stop crying and clear my eyes to see him, by which time he was at my side with a long stick in one hand. “Where have you been!” I yelled. I glanced around the beach, partly to see where he’d come from and partly to see if the other boys had followed us.

Peter recoiled and stared at the ground in shame. “You were sleeping, and I saw a bird, and I wanted to see the bird, and then I saw this stick and I wanted it, but it was stuck in the bush, and then I came right back, but I saw the bird again and then I remembered that I should come tell you about the bird. Do you like my stick? I’m going to beat those pirates with it.”

“Don’t ever leave my side again. It’s my job to protect you. I’m responsible for you, alright. So don’t go off and d– don’t go anywhere,” I pleaded.

“You’re going to need a bigger stick if you want to beat the pirates,” Nibs announced. He had closed the distance between us quicker than I anticipated. He clutched the bottom half of a barrel in his arms, filled with all kinds of tools and supplies from the shipwreck. “I have some great big sticks back home if you want to see.”

“Yeah!” Peter cried and threw his stick down with great bravado. “I don’t need this little thing. Let’s go, James.”

“Wait,” I said, grabbing Peter’s arm. “We don’t know if we can trust them.”

Peter frowned, and looked between Nibs and I in confusion. “What do you mean?”

I didn’t know how to answer him. We didn’t know these boys, but we also didn’t have much choice in the matter. My throat and stomach were already reminding me that we hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning, and I didn’t know the first thing about surviving on my own, let alone providing for two. “I mean, they might be pirates,” I decided half-heartedly.

Peter gasped and jumped back from Nibs. “Are you a pirate?”

Nibs laughed and set his bucket down so he could salute Peter with great enthusiasm. “No, sir. I’m not a pirate. Scout’s honor. My name is Nibs, and I’m a Lost Boy.”

“What’s a lost boy?” Peter asked, taking a look in his bucket and having already forgotten the potential danger.

“A lost boy is someone who doesn’t have a mother or father and fights pirates.”

“That’s it?”

“Well,” Nibs picked up the supplies again. “I suppose we look for buried treasure too.”

“Treasure! We’re lost boys too, James! Our father died, and we don’t have a mother.”

Nibs nodded in the direction of the trees and began the hike inland. “Then you should come with us.”