Friday, 24 October 2014

Gearing up for Nano 2014

Here we go ... NaNoWriMo is almost here, otherwise known as National Novel Writing Month. Only a week to go! 
If you are not familiar, Nano is that yearly event where you are tasked with writing 50,000 words in 30 days. I've done it two years running and won both times -- but not without making a splendid mess, naturally. 
(Whispers) "it's OK first drafts are almost always terrible". 
I'm planing to continue with my Liberty (A Fragile empire) rewrite which is sitting at 50,130 words, I'm pretty certain I have another 50,000 words in it.
Here's what I have been working on... Yes the excerpt is rather first drafty and stuff, but heck, I had a tonne of fun writing it. Yes, Nano's a blast! Check it out, maybe even try it!

So, the excerpt below is from the first half, which I wrote during Camp NaNoWriMo. I'm looking forward to tackling the second half from November 1st, and hopefully by 30th November I'll be writing those wonderful words -- THE END. Then I'll have yet another first draft to clean up ... uh yeah, well...

Anyway, that aside, here's the excerpt from The fragile Empire.

 (Excerpt chapter 4) 

Ash cleared his throat, “Um, I could come back.”

“You’ve seen me practically naked now, no backsies from that, you might as well stay.”

Stay, that word definitely had a pervy undertone to it, Fleura. Are you hitting on him now?

She heard him chuckle. It was a deep sexy sound, like a purr from a motherfucking big cat. She turned clutching the front of her towel and looked at him speculatively. He looked nice, clean cut, his blond hair tufting up in long messy spikes of fun, thrown this way and that to give him a designer bed head, She gulped. His tee was classic black, with some retro design and white tube pants with grey trim. They made his legs look long, his hips narrow and his chest, just right, not broad but neither slim. Lean and trim, perfect. Her mind flew ahead of her, wrapping itself around him and throwing him into bed.

“So, get dressed, there’s something I wanted to show you,” he said breaking the spell with a genuine smile and a light conversational tone. All undertones of tension fizzled.

Fleura snapped back to friend zone reality with a cold hard thump. Her hand clutched the towel around her a little tighter. She turned and gathered some clothes — any clothes! The word idiot revolved around inside her head in garish neon red as she slid back into the bathroom cubby, frustration burning beneath her skin. Damn it.

Less than 5 minutes. Body fully covered, Face lightly painted, hair blown dry, she stalked back out into her room, feeling less than peppy. She had dressed in tights and a Mondrianesque tunic tight geometric fun. She stepped into her one pair of pretty boots. As the faux swede adjusted, shrinking around her feet and legs, she looked up at him, expectant.

He turned toward the door with a smile and she followed. He took her straight to the sliptube. She looked at it dubiously as he silently gestured for her to enter, a small annoyingly secretive smile on his lips. 
“Where are we going?” She asked. 
“Wait and see,” came the cryptic reply.
 In most circumstances she would begin to lose patience with this sort of behavior, but he was too damn intriguing to let go now. Intelligent, rebellious, chivalrous, charming — her internal perfecto meter spazzed glowingly. He took out a small cold colored metallic card and slipped it into a slot beneath the floor buttons. The doors hissed shut and then suddenly Mr Perfection blurred before her. It felt as if her stomach had dropped into the soles of her too-expensive boots. She grabbed at the closest thing, him, and hung pathetically off his arm until she gained some still-wobbly equilibrium.

He patted her hand reassuringly. She gave him a sheepish smile and disentangled herself, explaining “I wasn’t quite ready for that.”

He replied with that small chuckle, and a smile that reached his blue, oh-so-blue eyes.

She looked past him and out the transparent door. The dark blur suddenly disappeared and her gaze plummeted into a sea of stars. Her breath shuddered, as her brain — caught in a spiral of awe-panic — tried to work out whether inhaling or exhaling was more appropriate in the circumstance.

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