Not dead yet

Just a bit off track. After last week’s election and other intruding life events I felt so tired I could barely keep my eyes open at night, resulting in a pitifully low word count over the weekend. But I’m back in the groove today – it’s well before my usual writing time and I’m already over 2,700 words, so I’ve hit 11k and am still going strong.

Characters are emerging and they all want to talk! It’s all very strange, but I’m trying to listen to what they have to say about the weird world they’re living in. Maybe once my human detective appears he’ll explain a little bit more about the murder of our beloved professor (of course, he thinks our heroine is responsible…but how can he track her down if she’s always hanging out in some alterna-London? Only time will tell…)

Monday blues

Phew, today was a struggle! I got started later in the evening and was a little distracted by household chores and other necessities I’m required to attend to. Still, I managed to squeeze out 2,173 words and the entire scene. My characters are slowly moving around the board to get in their places, and I’m starting to see what motivates them, and what the backstory is (there’s a murder but I haven’t quite figured out why). It’s coming, though, slowly but surely.

He took her hand in his. “That is why, Amelia, it was imperative that you come here, and that I speak to you. Even as you walked here tonight, someone was lying in wait for you. I surprised them and they escaped through the back door of the house, but it was no ordinary burglar.” He did not say how he knew this, but she assumed it was due to the trailing auras that everyone in this place seemed to emit.

“I followed your trail here, and was relieved to know that you had made it on your own. But when I came upon you, you were in some trouble already.”

Amelia blushed a little.

“You must stay with me, as only in my house will you be as safe as I can make you.,” Thornton went on. “You must go out as rarely as possible, and work to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible.”

This elicited a rude snort from nearby, where the blonde man was listening to their conversation.

“I don’t think that’s possible, my dear fellow,” said the man. Amelia glared at him, but Thornton merely glanced at him.

“The coach is waiting out back,” said the blonde main, turning back into the dark storeroom with a spin of his cape.

Still holding her hand, Thornton looked straight into Amelia’s eyes, dark, implacable brown gazing into warm, chocolate brown. “Above all,” he said, “you must trust me.”

“I will,” Amelia replied.

Nov. 2, Weekend Roundup

Although this weekend was a fairly busy one, I managed to churn out just over the minimum requirement yesterday, although part of it involved a description of a dream that I’m not sure how to incorporate yet.

Today was astonishingly productive though, even though I didn’t even sit down to write until the evening, and wrestled with distractions and forcing myself to write the whole time. I wrote an entire chapter from start to finish, with 3,203 words in total. It was difficult but I knew exactly what I wanted to happen next, and I wouldn’t let myself stop until it was all down on paper. (Or screen. Whatever.)

It is so completely freeing to not have to worry about whether or not it’s any good, too. I can see now that always trying to make everything perfect – or really, even just thinking too much about what I was writing beyond getting characters to where they needed to be – was holding me back from reaching any kind of conclusions. So with that in mind, I share this sample, which I know is terrible, and love deeply for it:

She was relieved to have found someone who recognized her and was willing to come to her aid, and more importantly, knew their way around this strange place. But this was equally disconcerting, as she had never been introduced to this man – she would have remembered such a handsome face – nor even heard of him. Mr. Thornton. A man who was recognized and respected by the local authorities and shopkeepers was not the sort of company she, as a maid, would have kept – nor even would the professor, who was loveably eccentric at the best of times.

He steered her to the front door of the red shop marked with the symbol of a key, and paused, looking at her expectantly. She gazed up into his face for a full minute before she realized he was waiting on her, and it took another pause before she thought of what exactly it was he needed her to do.

She slipped her hand under her cloak, into her pocket, and withdrew the strange key she had found tucked away in the professor’s lounge. She wrapped the ribbon around her hand, and steadily she placed it in the lock in the bright red front door, and turned it, hearing the tumbler fall with an extremely satisfying click. She turned to Thornton, smiling, and froze again when he looked down at her to smile back, revealing two very white, perfectly formed fangs.

Ahhhhhh…a sigh of relief at a job finished for the day, and freedom from self-imposed restraint.

Nov 1, midnight and onward

I got home late last night after spending time with my young nephew (who was dressed as a lamb for Halloween, I’ll add) – and waited anxiously til midnight arrived. I couldn’t think of how my novel would start but I could clearly visualize one scene and so just sat down to churn that out, managing a fairly respectable 947 words before the eye strain convinced me it was time for sleep. The words came a lot easier than I ever expected, though I do still fuss about and delay and get distracted.

A sample (unedited, so please look on it with a forgiving eye):

Amelia’s eyes widened. This was it! Her whole life had been a series of events which had combined to form the path that led directly to this point. She drew the key from her pocket, hand trembling a little with excitement and anticipation. Leaning over to he wrapped the ribbon around her hand and moved the key toward the lock, inch by inch, holding her breath – which was promptly knocked out of her as the door flew open and knocked her flat on her butt.

Now it’s daytime on Nov. 1 and I’m to 600 (out of 720, to hit the total 1,667) and it’s slow-going as now there are people to speak to and things to do, but I intend to keep going far beyond 1,667 to build myself a cushion for the rest of the month. I had a dream last night about a mechanical man, a dog, and a small adventure they had, so I’m writing it down with the intent to work it into the novel. It’s nice when your brain provides characters cut from whole cloth!

Getting started

At Daisy’s encouragement, I’ve started a NaNoWriMo journal to document the process of spewing out 50,000 written words in the course of a month. I’ll use this space to take notes, share experiences and post totals, but I am going to try to channel all my regular bloggy chattiness into the novel instead of here.