I don’t have long to write this right now, so, if I don’t make it to the end of what I want to say; I’ll top it up later. However, I am now six days into my NaNo project and at my last count I was at 21k words. I haven’t done any today – I’ve been doing my hair – but I’ll probably do some later. Its not late at the moment.
Anyway, point being, that the point of the project, as you should know by now, is to write 50k words in 30 days. I am almost 43% through. I have been sitting down every night and spitting out an average of 3.5k words each time I do. It feels wonderful!!! Clearly, somewhere in the middle of the editing process of Silk Over Razor Blades I had forgotten how great it feels to just write. To just put the words down on the page and tell a story.
Picked up on Monday 8 November 2010
Okay. Now I’m eight days into the project and at 25,488 words. That’s the half way mark beat in the space of a week. Its been a wonderfully liberating week. I haven’t written like this since my university days and the story is sliding out of my fingers with a speed to match a river in spate. I’m fascinated by the fact that I can still do it and that even now, my head is filled with ideas and plot hooks and character development ideas to keep the novel rolling on. I wonder, when its over, if I’ll be able to keep it up. What I don’t want to happen, is that I get to a point with the NaNo that its done and then I go back to Silk Over Razor Blades and forget how much fun that feeling is. I need to carry this feeling over into that project to ensure it gets the love, attention and care it needs to be ready to present to agents and publishers. That, after all, is what this blog is about.
Anyways, for now, here is an exert of the NaNoWriMo project Clash Of The Animal Kings
Michelle sat down, once more lifting Jumble out of her t-shirt pocket to let him run free. He had to be male, she decided as she watched. Only a male would be able to find such pleasure in chasing a piece of paper up and down the street.
The persistent wind rolled dust, slush and litter along the pavement and Jumble would always find a piece to play with that was much larger than he. Leaping high, he tackled a burger box from above, somehow working his way right into the middle and tearing it to shreds with his paws.
Pieces of managed box sailed up the street but Jumbled followed them only a short way before turning back. He never seemed to go far.
Every time Michelle was concerned he would wander off, he returned and settled himself in her lap, a comforting ball of furry, black warmth against her legs. She stroked him gently, passing the time, occasionally trying her luck and picking up some change.
Suddenly Jumble hissed and dived into the makeshift pocket about Michelle’s waist. She squealed and tried to catch the tiny creature, but the kitten was spry, wriggling around through the gap until he was nestled into the curve of her spine.
“Jumble!” Michelle prepared to stand up, half way to her feet when a great shadow seemed to block the watery light of the winter sun. She looked up, straight into the eyes of a tall, fair haired man in a crisp black suit. A deep purple tie showed through the gap where his shirt lay, which was buttoned right up to the neck. He smiled.
“Hi.”
“Hi.” Warily, Michelle sat back down again, trying to ignore the wriggle of the kitten tucked into her back. “Spare any change, Sir?”
“Why, yes.” The man reached into his trouser pockets, pulling out a handful of small change. He picked out four pound coins, putting the rest back and holding them out. “Here.”
Slowly Michelle held out her hand, unfurling her fingers.
The stranger dumped the change into her palm, stepping even closer until he seemed to loom above her like some blond, charitable giant.
“Thank you.”
The man smiled. “You’re welcome. Anything I can do to help a fellow soul in need, though you don’t look as though you need it.”
Nonplussed, Michelle looked about herself. “What do you mean? Sorry to be rude, but I don’t sit out here in the snow for fun you know.”
That made the stranger laugh. It was a big, deep laugh, perhaps a little too much for a joke that was, in truth, just a hair’s breadth short of rude. “No, I guess not, but you don’t look like you need to be. I can still see the price tag on your boots for instance; are they new?”
Then, in a flash, Michelle understood the reason for the strange looks she had received all through the course of the day. Cursing herself for not realising it sooner, she tucked her hands into her pockets. “The hostel,” she lied easily, thinking fast, “had a new donation come through yesterday. I was one of the lucky ones to get there first.” She shrugged. “I got some new clothes out of it.”
The man nodded as through the explanation made perfect sense. “I thought the hostels were only for those who had been on the streets for a while. You look too fresh to be a veteran.”
“Four years, Sir.” Michelle said softly, shaking her head slightly. “But I try not to count. Its depressing.”
“You must be sick of it by now.”
“Wouldn’t you be?!” With a grimace, Michelle reined herself in. She had no idea why this man so suddenly rattled her, but something about his questions put her on the defensive. She stared up at him, leaning back to get a better look at his face.
The man stepped forward.
She bit her lip. “Well, thank you anyway,” it was a poorly veiled attempt to say goodbye, “this money will find me a meal tonight. I really am grateful.”
A hard, rough chuckle slid out of the man’s mouth and he moved even closer again. “Good. I’m glad. Though, I can get you a meal if you’re hungry. Its no trouble. In fact, I have a little more money here, if you’re interested.”
Alarm bells ran in Michelle’s mind. She stiffened, suddenly frightened as the man reached into another pocket, this one on the inside of his jacket and pulled out an immense wad of fifty pound notes.
He counted them slowly, deliberately, with his hands held low directly in her field of vision. His soft voice counted through the notes one by one from fifty pounds to a hundred pounds. One hundred and fifty. Two hundred. Two hundred and fifty.
As he kept going, Michelle felt her mouth drop open, felt her eyes grow wider and wider as the pile of notes grew bigger and bigger and bigger.
At one thousand pounds, the stranger stopped counting and put the rest back, holding the counted notes before him and waving them like a fan. “There. That should be about enough, right?”
“E-enough for what?” Michelle spoke with effort, flicking her tongue over lips that were sore and dry. Her throat felt filled with sand.
“Enough to convince you to come home with me.”Chapter Two
Michelle felt fear send a line of cold rippling down her spine. She backed up, scrambling across the floor on her hands and feet, her face turned towards the stranger. She backed right into the library wall, stopping only when she heard the startled yelp of Jumble still pressed into her back.
The man frowned. “Not enough. Okay, let’s try again.” And then, he took the other pile of notes back out of his pocket and began to count again. His eyes remained trained on her face as he counted, his fingers feeling out the notes by touch alone. He reached two thousand pounds and held an even bigger fan forward before his face. “Come home with me.”
Frantic, with Louise and her words still strong in her mind, Michelle tried to look up and down the street. Bizarrely, it was empty! No cars in either direction or any other pedestrian within walking distance. Motion Road was utterly empty but for herself and this wild eyed stranger.
And his eyes most certainly were wild. He began counting again, ignoring Michelle as she frantically shook her head from side to side. He held out an incredible seven thousand pounds and waved it in front of her face, holding the notes beneath her nose like a bottle of smelling salts.
“This is a generous offer,” he murmured softly, a dark menace creeping into his eyes. It was like watching black rain clouds roll forward to cover the sun. “You would do well to rethink your answer.”
Michelle smeared herself into the wall, sighing in relief as Jumble finally freed himself from behind her back. He scrambled free of the clumsy pouch with such a look of reproach in his eyes that he almost looked human. Then he climbed into her lap and sat down, looking up at the stranger with his big, lamp-like eyes.
The man leaned back with a sudden jolt, backing off so fast that he seemed almost a blur. His lips thinned into a grim, angry line and his forehead furrowed as thick, pale eyebrows drew down to hood his dark eyes. “You have a pet.” He observed. “How… nice.” Surprise was in his voice, though it quickly seemed to give way to brisk, businesslike professionalism as he stuffed the money back into his pockets.
“Very well.” He fussed with his suit, needlessly straightening his tie and running both hands back through his cropped blonde hair. “I guess you’re not the one. You must truly enjoy living on the streets if you’d be willing to turn down such a large amount of money.”
Michelle merely watched, subtly leaning back on her hands, ready to kick out with both feet should he come any closer.
Backing off a further two steps, the man made it plain he intended to come no further. Indeed, he was glancing up the street now, checking his watch and making a great show of being on his way. “I hope you’re comfortable,” he said shortly, “and that you enjoy the meal my pocket money brings you. Have a good day.” With that, he walked off, vanishing into the crowd of passing pedestrians that suddenly seemed to appear out of nowhere.
Within seconds he was gone, vanished into the faceless crowds.
Writing: A Conversation Without Interruptions 