Nanowrimo 2013 day Seven.

Day seven has been a very slim day. Just over a thousand words but I think I did turn a corner in my understanding of the main character and the tone. Sounds stupid as I'm already 17,000 words in but sometimes it takes time to really find the voice.

Here's today's small offering...

     I was beginning to build a picture of the events surrounding the attack on the resort and to be honest it made no sense at all. It was like a picture of the postman drawn by a four year old. There was a triangle type shape that could have been a body, a weird, uneven circle for the head, the eyes were uneven and different shapes , the arms and legs were sticks that came out at strange angles and the bag the postman carried looked like a two dimensional red toilet cistern. 

More tomorrow I hope... Much more.

Nanowrimo 2013, Day Six.

Good morning session but honestly, the music is driving me spare. It's not that I hate it, but it really isn't what I'd ever normally listen to and once the session is over I wander the house humming it. Erg.

Must find some alternative stuff asap or I'm going to turn into a rainbow-filled serial killer.

Here are the words...

     I tried to way up the odds. If I told her, Beefy and Python who she was that increased their chances of being killed for ‘knowing too much,’ and yet they hadn’t been executed on the spot so they were obviously not high on a kill list. In fact, they must have been on another list all together, because the catchment team was well set up in the hut out there, well away from the resort.

     Hum. I considered pulling on an orange sweater and platted knee high skirt and proclaim that there was a mystery, but that would be silly and so I logged that ‘clue’ in the back of my head and spilled the beans.

‘She is a member of an elite British intelligence kill team, certainly not the most senior member but she is still incredibly well set up. They go around killing people that they deem to be a threat to Great Britain,’ I said as I watched the snow fall, trying hard not to have one of those shit internal memory sequences. ‘I’ve met her several times and worked with her on a piece of work. She’s about as dangerous as they come at my level.’

More tomorrow folks. :-)

Nanowrimo 2013, Day Five.

Yesterday wasn't good. In the last entry I moaned about the mistakes I've made but by the time I went to bed last night I had convinced myself that it was an option to scrap the project and start form scratch, taking the four days loss on the chin.

This, I think, would have been a massive over reaction.

This morning I had a few fresh ideas. I decided I'd highlight the bad section in red and leave it in, so as not to lose the word count, and track from the place it went wrong. Start that area a fresh, so to speak. I did that and felt it went okay and then started a new chapter and flew along merrily for the time I had and it was much easier going today.

Phew.

So, I have another session booked in for the evening I figured I'd chuck this up now and then steam on ahead.

     On the bed sat Britney Usher and her two bodyguards, they were all in their underwear. Britney’s was incredibly well supported on her top half and her knickers were as tiny as the bra was supportive. They were honestly the smallest pair of knickers I’d ever seen.

     They made the pair Sigourney Weaver wears at the end of Alien look like a parachute.

     The two bodyguards were in their boxers and I have to say they were all in great shape. The big guy was carrying too much muscle and it probably did affect his ability to move swiftly, but when you’re a bodyguard sometimes size can stop an incident before it even starts. It’s a great deterrent. Sadly his package suffered terribly due to the size of his quads. It was like a party sausage pressed between two huge hotdog rolls. His buddy, the smaller guy was super toned, much like myself, but honestly, it was hard to know where to look. He looked like he was trying to smuggle a python through customs in a small handbag. 

That's it for the day. More tomorrow ;-)

P.S. I promise I'm not writing porn. 

Nanowrimo 2013 day four. A tough day.

I didn't have a good day today. I cracked out 4000 words and it was really hard going. Later on I was feeling a bit uneasy about the whole thing and realised I'd broken at least five rules set out for this project and been incredibly lazy.

I am officially pissed off.

What I'm going to do is ignore the screw-up, knowing I will have to fix many things in the book anyway, and just continue. I know what I've done wrong, how to fix it and now that I've made the mistake I'm sure my next session will be more focused and idiot free.

I hope.

I'll still put up some stuff I did today.

     I worked my way down through the next valley and was making good headway when my phone rang. It was a work number and so I switched it off and continued on my way. A minute later it rang again, and then every minute for the next ten minutes, finally I stopped and decided to answer the call.

‘Apex?...’ A strong American accent came from the receiver and I laughed.

‘I’ve told you dumb C.I.A pricks I won’t answer to those stupid codenames,’ I answered and there was a pause.

‘Algernon? Are you engaged?’ The question was delivered with the same kind of silly spy drama that I can’t stand and so I hung up. I stood there in the late afternoon sun and waited for the phone to spring into life once more, which it did. This time a women’s voice was on the other end and she had a thick French accent.

‘Algernon you are not playing nicely and Agent Smith is upset now.’

‘Fuck agent Smith, if you haven’t already,’ I answered and she snorted.

‘Is that any way to talk to your wife?’

‘Ex-wife, and yes it is. Now what do you want?’

‘You’re aware of the incident in the Alps?’

‘I am just on my way away from the area. There are multiple well armed terrorists in the resort and I’m on fucking holiday so you’ll have to find someone else to kill them. I’m an assassin, not a super hero.’ 

There ya go. More tomorrow... I hope. 

Silent Sunday

Nanowrimo 2013 Day two.

I was woken early by the girls and knew I had a stag do to head to today so instead of rolling over and have a snuggle with my wife I decided to sit up and get some words in. Precious, precious words.

Just a small offering to the Nano god today, just over an thousand words, but it does keep me in front of the curve and confirms I'm running on about a thousand words an hour when slightly distracted. Hopefully I can increase that ratio to one thousand three hundred words for every hour when totally in the zone.

I'll have to wait and see.

Here's the short exert of the day:

‘Is everything alright Ms Usher? Perhaps the gentleman would like to be left in peace?’

     She looked up at him and I could see she was considering making a scene. I stood up and the bodyguard stepped back a pace, forced back by the stare I’d given her and then him. He could feel the danger coming off me now, the electricity that buzzed from me, telling him I was a cold blooded killer and that he was in deep trouble. At that moment I smiled and dropped the work stare.

     No point in upsetting him and making matters worse.

That's all you get today, but more tomorrow I hope. :-)

Nanowrimo 2013 Day one.

Today I had a full day on site and was still suffering from a hideously tough day previously. I has hoping I'd still have the energy for the Nano and it turns out I did! Yes!

Last year I posted as many days as I could, placing up a paragraph from the days work. It helped me to push myself forward and I think it helped me accept that others would see my work at some point, and that I needed to be able to show it off in all it's forms, rough and smooth.

This year I'm doing the same thing. I'll use these posts to show my progress and flash up a piece of the days takings. I'll look at that piece and try to remove obvious spelling mistakes and idiotic typos but try and leave the raw writing as it went down. This may mean that at times it's clunky, I do apologise in advance, but as it gets cleaned and edited it becomes better, sharper. For me it's important to show that the work changes from what you first type to the piece you decide is good enough to send to an agent or commit to as a self published book.

As always comment as you wish, I look forward to hearing your thoughts, but consider that this is straight out of the ground and not a cut diamond. :-)

      I was drinking from my mug of gorgeous, hot, chocolate Ovaltine when someone sat down on the chair opposite me and pouted. I’d noted her presence but greeted her approach with silent apathy. Now she was invading my space as her bodyguards stood at the bar and looked superficially tough and alert. In reality I could see the big one, who had a shaved head and I thought would probably be very handsome if he just dropped a bit of weight and went for a leaner, more approachable look, was studying the other bodyguard with some interest. The other man shifted his eyes around the bar/lounge, taking in the scene, but when he thought no-one was looking reached out a few fingers and brushed them against the big man’s arm. The effect on his friend was obvious to me, thought I was pretty sure the pretty-pop-princess in front of me had no idea what was really going on behind her.

     They made a sweet couple and I wished them all the best, though if someone offered me twenty thousand Sterling to execute one of them I’d have taken the job. Business is business after all. 

None tomorrow as I'm on a stag do for a good mate, but watch this space Sunday. :-)

Thanks for reading.