…and was much better than the other one. I started writing this one, according to the “Last Modified” info bit on my computer in May 2009. Then when I heard about NaNoWriMo, decided to carry it on. After adding a hundred or so words, and changing a few bits and pieces, I got a bit bored, so I started the other one. Then I got bored of that one too and was struggling to find a way to (ironically) connect the two stories into one big one. Then it was late November, with a total of 1,200 words out of 50,000, so I gave up completely. Maybe next year, eh? Anyway, here it is:

The bunk bed had been put together and left against the window. They had only moved in earlier that day, and they had no where else to sleep until the house was unpacked. The room was quite small; and looked even smaller with the stacks of boxes everywhere. It had a faded blue carpet and dirty off-white walls, no door in the frame and the windows were in a bad way.

Two teenage brothers were laid in the each of the beds. Neither of them were asleep though.

On the bottom bunk was Tom. A light flicked on in the hallway. Tom quickly closed his eyes and pretended to be sleep. A shadow passed the doorway, there was another flick, the master bedroom door opened and closed, and darkness and silence surrounded them once more.

Tom opened his eyes.

“You still awake?” he asked into the dark.
“Of course I am. How do you expect me to sleep in this dump?” replied a voice.

The voice belonged to Matt. He was laid on his side, looking out the window from the top bunk. He was watching the activity out on the main road. Suburban London traffic building up at the lights a little way down the road; a group of drunken people making they’re way somewhere or other; a police car and ambulance with lights and sirens on heading into the city.

It wasn’t particularly busy for a Saturday night, but there was enough to keep him from being distracted by the spider making a new home in the corner above him.

“What are you doing?” Tom asked,
“Nothing; just laying here” He said, “You?”
“On my back, arms behind my head, thinking…”
“About?” Matt questioned, still looking out the window.
“I dunno. Everything; Anything; This house; Mum and Dave; Lauren”
“I thought you two broke up?” Matt asked.
“We did. But I still think about her” Tom finished.
“Fair enough, I suppose. Well I’m gunna try and sleep now.”

Matt moved about a bit so as to seem like he was getting comfortable, but really, he stayed in the same position; He had no intentions of sleeping yet. He had too much on his mind. His university degree was going tits up; he didn’t get on with any of his course-mates, his grades were slipping and he had since decided he didn’t want to work in the television production industry anyway! He now wanted to work in radio. But this worried him; this was his third future-career change in as many years. How long before he decided radio wasn’t for him and moved on to something else.

He was battling so hard with his sexuality, too. His best mates – known as The Power Eight – all knew of his struggle, but outside of them, not one person knew for sure. He was fairly confident that lots of the people he associated with on a daily basis think that they know the truth. But no one had actual proof. And that was exactly how Matt wanted it to stay. His mum, a Christian, was neither against nor pro homosexuality, but did not deny its existence. His stepdad was very anti-gay. He did not associate with them. He would not knowingly allow one inside his house. You were a freak of nature, in his eyes. And his mum had decided to move in with him.

He was lucky he didn’t live at home full time anymore. Term time he lived in a shared student house with two other housemates; both lesbians; but not with each other. He mainly kept himself to himself, rarely actually communicating with them. It was a forced living arrangement. He couldn’t live at home. It was too far for to commute everyday. And as he didn’t get on with any of his course-mates, they weren’t an option to live with. In the end, desperately, he found these two looking for a third housemate to move in with them. The rent was cheap, and was close to the Uni, so he took it.

Five weeks into the first semester, his mum rang him to say she and Dave had found a house and were in the final stages of the process, and would be moving in soon. She wanted to know if Matt would help with the move. Tom would be there.

At 23, Tom was two years older than Matt, and doing his Masters degree at a University in Scotland. He came home for one week at Christmas, Easter and at the beginning and end of the summer; but other than that, had set up his life in Scotland, and remained there to study and work.

Matt and Tom were really close. They were always on the phone or online to each other. It was so good to see him. Matt missed him so much. He always said he planned to make a long-term visit to Scotland when he finished his degree.

And with every day that passed, Matt couldn’t wait until the degree was over, so he could do so. He couldn’t wait to get away.

Here, for your eyes, is one of the two failed NaNoWriMo’s I started:

He was laid on his back in bed with his new Apple MacBook laptop resting on his raised knees. Time slowly ticking (not that he had a real clock) away, except it seemed to go much faster than usual. It was 2:30am. He had been staring at the screen for over an hour. Hoping the words would write themselves. But nothing appeared. Not even when he tried some telekinesis.

He needed to complete the essay by the morning: 10,000 words on the rise and fall of reality television. He’d chosen his subjects carefully. ‘Big brother’ shortly coming to the end of it’s 10 year run because of a decline in audience, and ‘The X Factor’, a show with increasing viewing figures week on week. And those blasted ‘Jedward’ twins should have made for lots of quality material on both the publics power and strong backlash against Simon Cowell. But the words just didn’t flow.

So far he had literally written the date, title and his name. Something was stopping him from continuing. The constant coughing from the room above him didn’t help. But it wasn’t just that. There was something else.

Throughout his GCSE and A Level years, he always maintained that the more someone pushed and nagged at him to do something, like exam revision, the less likely he was to do it. And that was how he explained his mediocre grades so far. But now he was in his final year of university, there was no one behind him nagging at him to complete his work. So what was stopping him?

Maybe the constant nagging to revise actually worked in the way it was designed and he was destined for a mediocre life and career? Or was it because he was studying for a degree linked to an industry he didn’t want to work in any more?

Both, he thought.

But a combination of working 12 hours every week in a supermarket, another 10 in a Pub, 11 hours worth of lectures and workshops, and his laziness stopped him from finding a job in his real passion and ideal career area.

That and the fact he was so close to finishing his degree (essay completion pending) it would have been a waste of the last two and a half years, not to mention the £13,000 in debt from student loan and tuition fees.

He began to type. He wasn’t really paying attention to the words appearing on the screen. But he had to write something, even if it was complete bollocks.

“The reality television programme in the UK, really took off with the launch of ‘Big Brother’, in 2000.” He began. “This new format, not seen on British television, gripped audiences as the newest form of “social experiment” panned out.” He continued. “The concept was simple. Throw X amount of people in a purpose-built house, give them tasks, film them and see what happens”.

He hit a wall. It should have been really easy to continue writing the introduction, but he just stopped.

He resisted the urge to look up some information on Wikipedia. He’d been caught out there once before, in his first year.