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It is the wee small hours of the morning on Day 14 of my great novel-writing experiment. I did crack the halfway point yesterday but I did not get as far today as I had hoped. I found myself sketching characters and falling asleep on the sofa this evening rather than writing. I really need to get cracking tomorrow.
I thought I would give you a couple of excerpts that introduce my two main characters. The heroine has been strapped with the responsibility of taking care of a group of refugees who are hiding out from the “bad guys”, the technological sophisticates who want to enslave these people. The hero is the local nobleman who has come to lead them all to a safe place. The hero and heroine first meet in chapter 1 when he catches her siphoning off energy from his stash. They knock the snot out of each other (literally). Not the best way to start off a relationship.
So in this first excerpt, the hero has come to evacuate the refugees. They officially meet but this too disintegrates into a cat-and-dog encounter. The heroine stomps off in a huff and he comes after her. Here is what happens next:
Ailen rode up beside her. His face was stern. Anihinda said, “As you can see, we are mostly packed. They just need to load up their hearth stones.”
Ailen nodded. “Uh-huh.”
“As I said before, we do need some help moving the altar stone.”
Ailen dismounted and ordered four of his men to start loading the stone into one of the wagons.
“Anything else, Madame?” he said with a tinge of sarcasm.
“Lord Timeron –“
“You can call me Ailen.”
“Ailen…look, I’m sor— well, what I mean is, we’re very grate—“ She stopped again. He was looking at her with bemusement forming on his face.
“What I mean to say is —“
“I know what you’re trying to say: ‘Ailen, you were right and I was wrong and I’m very thankful you are here to save us.’”
Anihinda slid off of Syren. “You’re an insufferable ass.”
“You’ve determined this after just ten minutes? It takes most people about fifteen.” He was broadly grinning.
Anihinda shook her head and fought back a smile of her own.
***
The hero and heroine do actually stop sniping at each other long enough to start appreciating each other. In this second excerpt, the heroine who has the ability to heal with her hands (think Reiki on steroids) assists a refugee:
They came to a small cart. A woman knelt next to it cradling an elderly man who was propped up against the wheel. The man’s face was pale, and his breathing was rough and uneven. The woman said, “Lady, he started feeling poorly a couple of hours ago. He seems worse now. Are you able help him?” Her face was knitted with concern.
Anihinda knelt down next to the man and laid her hand on his forehead. He was not hot with fever; in fact, he was cold and clammy. She closed her eyes and began to feel for his life force, a small orange ball that rested behind the navel. Scanning with her mind, she found it. It was diminished, common for a man of advanced age, but it held a steady glow. Her mind engaged it and she imagined the ball getting stronger and brighter. She began to breathe deeply, and after a moment, the old man’s breathing fell in sync with hers. His breath lost its raggedness and became deep and relaxed. She picked up his wrist and felt his pulse. It was strong and steady. A moment later, he relaxed and drifted to sleep.
Anihinda let go of his hand and opened her eyes. “He’ll be fine now. He’s just tired. This was a pretty rough day for someone his age.”
The woman took Ahihinda’s hand, “Thank you, Lady, thank you. Marahinda said you would be able to help him.”
“You’re welcome.” She was a little uneasy the reputation Marahinda was building for her among the people. She said to the woman, “Now, you need to get yourself something to eat and some rest as well. It has been a hard day for all of us.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The woman gently laid the old man’s head down and slid a cushion behind it. She pulled a pot from the bundle of her cart and headed off to the creek to get some water.
Anihinda stood up and looked around for Ailen. He had moved off and was leaning against the adjacent cart. He had a look on his face that she could not determine.
“What?” she asked.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to stare. I’ve never seen a healer actually work before. Aunt Nula usually chases us out when she is with a patient.”
“I’m not a healer.”
***
Okay, so it’s not going to win a Pulitzer, at least not yet. It’s a rough draft and needs a lot of revision.
I’m at a point where the plot has settled into place. I hope I can reach my 50,000 mark by the end of the month, but I figure even if I don’t reach the word count, I will have come out of this with more of a novel than if I had never tried.
Thanks for all you kind words of support.
Lori
These excerpts and the names and characters mentioned therein are copyrighted by Lori Gloyd (c) 2009 and may not be used without permission.
Sketch: “Anihinda”, Pencil on paper. L Gloyd (c) 2009
Today is Day 6 of National Novel Writing Month and as I type this I stand at 10,319 words. In a nutshell, I am writing a science fiction novel, with the science part being somewhat spurious. This first draft is chock-full of every cliche’ imaginable from t.v. shows and action/adventure movies. I’ve got the headstrong woman who clashes with the insufferable, yet oh-so-cute, leading man, who looks amazingly like the character Ardeth Bey from the Mummy movies. 
I guess you would call the novel an allegory. The working title is Timeron and it is the story of a once-upon-a-time technologically sophisticated society in an alternate earth time-line. Its infrastructure is powered by the earth’s electro-magnetic energy which can only be channelled by individuals sensitive to this earth energy. So what happens when this society has a shortage of such gifted individuals who can access this energy and there are no longer technicians who can repair the technology fueled by this energy? That society falls apart and leaves groups of haves and have-nots who suddenly engage each other in terrible ways. It leaves a society where science was once revered and now is feared by some as “magick.” (I really hope no one has ever written a story like this before — if so, someone please let me know!)
Does that sound a little bit like something right out of the front-page news? Fuel shortages, infrastructure collapse, social and political instability? I did not intend for that to happen. I really have no plot as I write the novel, but the characters have taken off in that direction and I’m just along for the ride.
I don’t know if I am going to finish this story. It is labor intensive. I write about 4 hours to achieve about 2000 words a day. I don’t want to get behind because I know I will stay behind if I do.
I want to say that if it had not been for the discipline of a daily writing habit that I developed over the past three years working with the abundance of writing prompts and inspiration at Heather Blakey’s Soul Food Cafe (http://www.dailywriting.net/), I would not have even considered engaging in this project.
Check back here for regularly progress reports.
Thanks for all the support.
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