For the second year in a row, I’m participating in the NaNoWriMo madness… And this time I have an active blog that needs feeding, on top of the writing I’m supposed to be doing on my latest novel. Combined with my Twitter penchant, my job, and my freelance work, November is starting to feel like a month in which to drown…
So I’m posting this not only to let friends and family know I’m still alive, though maybe not really focused or available.
And to let my friends and family help serve as my reminder to step away from the distractions and meet the challenge for a second year running. To prove to myself that it wasn’t just a fluke last year, and that I can *do* the writing thing. To keep churning out the stuff that falls out of my subconscious in a way that’s entertaining to more than just me.
So I’m going to post the first few paragraphs of the novel I started this year, and ask for a cheering team–is this something you want to read a book about?
“I love you,” and then I groan as the tingles advance up my toes and feet, and the characteristic sparkles edge my vision.
I’ll never know whether Sarah heard me this time. Or any other time I’ve told her for that matter.
My problem is that sometimes the dimensional shift can come without my making a move; I’m in the middle of a conversation and the other person doesn’t know how it started. I’ve been stunned into silence more times than I care to remember by a seemingly inappropriate response.
This time my shift is lucky, the Sarah looking back at me from behind doe-brown eyes looks very similar to the one to whom I just confessed my emotions. Same short brown hair with auburn highlights, same angular cheekbones, though it seems the hollows beneath them are a little more pronounced. This version hasn’t been eating well, I can see from the paper-thin texture of her previously fine skin. I’m even still holding her by her shoulders, though her coat is threadbare now.
I know Sarah is suspicious as I try to regain my footing in the conversation. In every incarnation I’ve known her, she is quick to catch details out of synch with her expectations. She is dearer to me every time she notices that I’m not quite the same person she’s known.
I’m a confirmed “pantser” so I’m not entirely sure where this is going, aside from the “how do I get back to where I started” question, so I’m definitely invested in seeing the narrative through to the end… which confirms that my evenings and weekends for the next 26 days… are BOOKED.