Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!
I knew it would be hard this year, but I had no idea HOW hard. My current NaNo word count: 2,523.
I’m fairly certain that I should be at about 15k by now, if I were keeping up to the daily targets. *sigh* It’s a very odd sensation, particularly since I can’t exactly blame the boys for how I feel. I just haven’t had the motivation to do much writing this past week. In fact the last time I sat at the keyboard and managed to write anything at all was Sunday. Not great.
I’m reminding myself that I have been ill, looking after the boys who keep changing up their schedules and handling multiple visits from various family members. All these does conspire to make it hard to write, but I’m not going to ‘blame’ those things. I’ll just say that this past week has been a little bit of a write off and that I need to do better.
Not with mounds of pressure though. I promised myself that I wouldn’t get stressed, and that I would take it easy, been as there are much more important things to be looking after. So far I have kept to that, though I must admit I do feel somewhat odd that I haven’t added any figures to the NaNo counter over the last few days. I remember the relish I felt in years passed at watching the numbers rise. We’ll see if I can catch up. If not, then any words I get down I should consider a win, considering my current circumstances.
Heh, check me out; being all reasonable and realistic and stuff! :p
Anyway, here’s a quick excerpt from what I have written. I want to keep you all in the loop since you were so kind as to pick the story for me. :p
“Put your leg over his shoulder. Yes, yes, like that. Now pout!”
The instructions, loud and crackling over the PA made Cerise’s lips twitch. She followed the order and extended her leg, pushing with her heel until the sole of her foot brushed passed the side of Malcolm’s head. He winked at her. “How are you?”
“Cramped.” She muttered.
“Not long now.”
Cerise shifted her bottom. “Can you move your hand?”
“I’m going to fall.”
Malcolm obligingly slid his left hand along her thigh. “Better?”
White flood lights chased shadows out of the warehouse and illuminated the furniture edges with a bright glow. Beneath it all lay Cerise, her body artfully draped over Malcolm’s. Both were naked but for a thin film of sweat, occasionally topped up by crew members with a sparing spritz from a clear spray bottle.
Make up crew swarmed like flies, adjusting lipstick, dusting with powder, smearing a dash of colour. One even went as far as to flick a soft, puffy brush at the underside of her breasts.
Cerise fought the urge to sneeze. “I’m getting a cramp.”
“Okay, we’re set!” Sam slid into place behind the camera. “Rehearsal!”
Grateful that this particular fantasy required no lines, Cerise concentrated on moving her body in a realistic manner. While rehearsals didn’t need any real penetration positioning was important. She rolled her hips around and tipped her head back, letting her hair fan across the pillows.
Malcolm grunted and buried his face in her neck, stroking her thighs and giving a little moan. “Are you sure you don’t want me to fix that tap?”
“No… its my plumbing that needs work.” The laugh bubbled up before she could snatch it back. Cerise snorted, peering at Malcolm through her lashes. “Do you have to say it like that? Noob!”
He pulled away, rolling off the bed and snapping his fingers to get the attention of his assistant. The woman ran over to him waving a dressing gown, helping him into it with her face averted.
Cerise watched him. “Sorry, sorry! Again?”
“No,” he snapped. “I need a break.” He stalked away.
She ran her fingers back through her hair, dragging the curly strands off her cheeks. “Damn.”
“Don’t worry about him,” one of the producers gave her a kind smile. “He’s had a rough day.”
“What about me?” Cerise gnawed her bottom lip. “I’m the one who has to pull all the acrobatic tricks.”
“Take five, hon.”
“Whatever.” She hopped off the bed, kicking aside the plunger and monkey wrench lying on the sheets and walking off the set.
Goosepimples broke out on her skin as she left the warmth of the lights. She shrugged into her own dressing gown, held out by a freckle faced assistant and helped herself to a pair of fluffy slippers.
“Have I got time to log in?” She asked.
The producer glanced at his watch. “Take half an hour. Why not.”
With that go ahead, Cerise aimed for her trailer.