The Fifteen Minute Novel: Day 182

The Fifteen Minute Novel is a novel written fifteen minutes at a time with each week day’s section starting with the sentence from the previous day. At least it is attempting to be a novel. For now I am just aiming at one continuous story, worked on for fifteen minutes each day. Started Friday January 1st, 2021 (in case you want to search for the beginning. I can’t wait to see where it ends up. It could be good, or it could be a mess. We’ll have to see. For now, here is today’s fifteen minutes.

Day 182: After moving the clothes, he went back downstairs to start another episode.

After moving the clothes, he went back downstairs to start another episode. Three more episodes later and James was yawning.  He was also confused as a new character was introduced.  He wasn’t entirely certain why and thought that either he missed some vital plot point or the writers hadn’t made the reason clear.  

“At least it will be something to ask abiut at lunch.” He thought.  While the others liked talking about the show, James very quickly picked up on the fact that they loved explaining the nuances and details he may have missed.  For many of them not only were several seasons ahead of him, but watched each season repeatedly.  He was certain that if nothing else the question would be good for an entire lunch time’s worth of conversation.

“At least it isn’t talking about sports,” James thought as he locked down the house for the night and went upstairs to bed.  When he was working his way up through the office ranks, office bonding conversations centered around sports, both local and national. While he had to pick a team to follow and remember game details, there were a lot of people in the company who had children playing various sports as well and he often heard about those sports as well. Following one or even a few television programs was easier and didn’t require as much attention.

“Although Lawrence loved to explain game play as much as Wendy likes subtle plot details,” James told himself. 

Upstairs James got ready for bed and set his alarm earlier than usual.  He felt a frision of excitement.  He timed his drive to and from the club as well as adding in the time for swimming and the time he thought he would need to change from swimming togs to workwear. In the morning he would see if his plan was successful.

James crawled into bed and slept.  When he woke the next morning, it was startled out of his library dream by the sound of the alarm clock.  The books were the same and there were still floors he couldn’t visit, but his grandfather was no longer present.

“Not sure if that is a good sign or not,” he muttered, voice still thick with sleep.  He blinked at the clock face and for a moment couldn’t remember why he was awake so early.  “Swimming.” His brain finally caught up with him. 

Through the drowsiness, he felt a bubble of excitement as he sli out of bed and paid his morning visit to the bathroom.  A shower would come later, but he combed his hair and threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.  He had forgotten to pick up a gym bag so he picked up one of the reusable shopping bags and added his swim trunks and goggles to it.  He then took one of the longer bath towels and rolled it up and added it to the bag.

“Apparently I missed a few purchases,” James said as he added his cell phone and wallet to the mix and reached for his keys. Swimming at home required less of a supply gathering from what he remembered. “But putting in a pool isn’t really an option right now.”

James shrugged it off and began compiling a mental list of things he’d need to pick up after work as he climbed into the Studebaker.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s