I FINISHED MY NOVEL // nano is done + snippets

I legit did it. Not only did I accomplish 30k words in November, but.... I FINISHED MY NOVEL. It happened. I was just writing, and I was like "this is it. It's done." Then I felt like crying *laughs* THE FEELS ARE SO REAL THO.

(also guys i died and made this collage for you. You're welcome)

AND even though I reaallllllly want to show you all my book cover... I can't. IDK WHY NOT BUT I FEEL LIKE I NEED TO KEEP IT AS A SURPRISE FOR NOW *shields myself from rotten tomatoes* 

I finished "FOR WHO HE WAS" at 80,067 words!!!!!!!!!!!!!! *still is in shock* I'm planning on a sequel for it...but at this moment, I want to try to write something new. I'm SURE you all understand. I mean, I've been stuck in western 1800's for a while now and am like "I CANT EVEN GIVE MY CHARACTERS ICE CREAM this is sad." #yesimweird

now...for a snippet or two.

 -----

     “Doc. She’s gone.” 

    Grant looked up, seeing Eric holding a bucket that was rusted and beaten, but wet. He stood up, shaking his head slowly. Eric was somehow right. They quiet way he spoke the words penetrated through Grant’s near panic. His blood started to rage. Adrenaline raced through his entire being. 

     “I have to save these kids.” 

    Grant went one by one, checking pulses, temperatures. He tried to give them sips of water, but in their angered fevers, they couldn’t swallow. He feared that their throats had nearly closed tight; by the way each child seemed to gasp for air. 

       “What is it? They are bad.” 

   Grant didn’t reply. He didn’t know what it was. And, Eric was right. They were in bad shape.

-----

The stage coach driver slowed his horses to a halt in North Platte, Nebraska. The whole place seemed similar to the other towns he passed through, but different. It was his business to know who was getting out at what stop, and this, was Eleanor Demmings stop.  

“Alright Miss Eleanor, this is your town.” 

Eleanor felt it odd for the driver to say it was her town, because it wasn’t. After all, she was just a new stranger. She quickly assessed the coach in which she sat, looking for any missed place items. 

There sat Alan Goodridge with his young son beside them. He had a smart, dark mustache which seemed to curl at the ends. His young face was dirty, just as all the other weary travelers were, but he even more tired looking. Alan Goodridge had told Eleanor of his wife’s recent passing and how he was going out West with his son, as far West as they could go. Eleanor figured he would never be able to run as far as he wanted to. 

-------

“I – I’m not sure what to do. I think I need all the sick in one place so I can tend to them.” 

Aaron stood up suddenly. “Jake,” His eyes pressed urgency. “My ranch, they haven’t sent the signal, right?” 

Jake wanted to say no. His stomach tightened.  “It was one of the firsts.” 

Aaron sat back down, yanking his hat off and dropping it on the ground. He started to run his hands through his hair over and over again. Grant glanced down at his friend, who seemed to already be in the state of mourning.  “It’s alright. God is going to help us.” 

Aaron didn’t reply. Grant knew that Aaron wouldn’t, but at least he was still listening. He turned his attention back to the waiting man.

did you finish nanowrimo?

what do you think of the snippets??