Yep. I did it. I tackled the monster that is NaNo. I stayed up way too late last night and put a middle and an end on that sucker. Now I have to go back and add stuff, take stuff out, burn stuff, slap myself over stuff, and fill in the car sized plot holes.
I can't wait to expand the story now that I don't feel like I'm going to just explode from deadline pressure.
Total word count last night when I stopped was 50,282. I'm sure it will be more once I get in there and fix things, but that was my finish line score after 19 days working.
It's been a ton of fun and already ordered my victory t-shirt. Can't wait to take a picture of me in it. (yes I'm vain.)
If you're still plugging away, you can do it! Almost there!
How about an excerpt? I'm feeling bold.
from the Electrifying Exploits of the English Three:
Devin flipped the lid of the little velvet box closed and stood from his knees. He returning it to his pocket and wandered slowly out of Jillian's garden. He walked around the corner of her house and saw a black carriage with black curtains roll slowly by her townhouse. He kept walking, keeping an eye on it the entire time, concern growing within his stomach. It rolled to a stop. The curtain opened slightly, and someone peeked out from behind it, looking up toward Jillian's bedroom window. Devin narrowed his eyes on who it could be, slowing his pace to a stop. The carriage started again and continued on slowly. Devin turned around at the next road and started to jog back in the direction of Jillian's house. He jumped behind the bushes and climbed up to the front door, trying to remain hidden in the recess of the door. He rang the door bell and pounded with his fists. He glanced behind him to see that the carriage had almost returned. Devin rang the door bell again and pounded one more time, and in mid pound, Barty opened the door and scowled at him.
"Miss Johnsworth does not wish to see you, Mr. Dashing," he said, trying to shut the door on him.
Devin shoved his foot in before it closed. "Barty, there is someone rounding the corner coming back this direction. Please believe me when I say that I think someone intends to do Miss Johnsworth harm."
Barty stepped aside and let Devin in without another question.
Devin stood against the wall in the parlor looking out the window, trying to remain obscured by the lace curtains.
Barty turned away from him and went upstairs, leaving Devin there. A few minutes passed and the carriage was still parked; the mystery person peering out to Jillian's room, now with a slender telescoped object.
Jillian came down the stairs and stared at him. "What are you doing in my parlor, Mr. Dashing? Barty said there was someone watching my house?”
"Yes, please do not get near the window. They seem to be looking toward your bedroom. I do not know what they have. "
Jillian scoffed. "And they do not know what I have, Mr Dashing." She strode to the mantle piece and pulled down the giant blunderbuss. It was nearly as tall as she was.
Devin's eyes widened. "Is that thing real?"
“Quite.”
She pulled the bolt out to the side and back and it slid into place and it sprung to life. With one click, the metal wire that encircled it glowed blue and white, humming angrily. Jillian walked leisurely to the door and opened it, seeing the black carriage sitting directly in front of her house.
"Jillian! Do come away from there!" Devin yelled, jumping over a table to get to her. She placed the stock of the gun over her shoulder. Devin watched as it curved and melded exactly to the contour of her arm. With no panic in her motions, she closed one eye and looked down the barrel of the gun, aiming for the carriage. The curtain opened again and Devin saw an ordinary muzzle sticking out aimed at her. As he jumped toward her to pull her out of harm's way, she braced her left foot in front of her and pulled the trigger. A burst of electricity shot out the end of the gun and hit the side of the carriage, knocking it almost completely over. Completely unfazed, Jillian pulled back the bolt on the side and cocked it again, ready for another shot. The horses began to buck and the passengers screamed as the coach went running down the street away from her house with the back end on fire. As if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, she went to the door and leaned out, making sure no one had seen or heard. She closed the door and returned the blunderbuss to the mantle.
Devin stood in the middle of the foyer, his hands held out bracing himself against the wall, mouth hanging open to what he just witnessed.
"Mr. Dashing, since you are here, would you like a cup of tea?"
I have been meaning to properly update my blog. Instead, I've been plugging away furiously at what is a giant mess of my NaNo project. . There are coherent thoughts in there somewhere, but right now I'm typing so fast I don't even see them.
I keep seeing my little nano bar go to the right, slowly inching away the word count to 50k. Though I feel like I'm just treading water in the middle of the ocean. There's no land to be seen in any direction. I hear there's some magic land of 50k, but right now, I'm hoping I have 12k left in me to make it through.
I am really in love with the story, and hope to take time later to fill it out to something else. The characters are hysterical to me, and I hope I'm going to spend some quality time with them, instead of the speed dating variety we're experiencing now.
In WoW terms, it feels like I'm grinding away in Stranglethorn Vale trying to make it to lvl 50.
I'll ding though, dammit. Imma gonna.
Hey, just thought I would throw up another excerpt from the work in progress. Hope you enjoy.
Barty returned with a curved metal bar in one hand and a glass tumbler full of whiskey in the other. He handed both to Jillian. “Is there anything else I can be of service?”
“Not yet, Barty. Though we may need help getting this thing open, so stay close. I also may need another one of these,” she held up the glass.
“Very well,” Barty said as returned to the kitchen. Jillian downed the whiskey with a shudder while the other ladies snickered. She put the tumbler down on the small side table and fanned herself with the newly added heat from the liquor. The three ladies gathered around the giant wooden crate and stared.
“What do you suppose it is?” Jillian asked as she wedged the bar into the first set of slats.
“I have not a clue, Jilly,” Eliza said, pulling on the slat with her hands to help. With a crack the board set free and they peeked inside.
“What, in the name of all that is holy, is that?” Miriam whispered.
“I have no clue, friend. Let us pry faster.” Jillian dug into another slat and pulled it free. Then another, and another and another. After the first side of the crate was opened, all three women stood with their mouths agape, looking at the spherical hunk of brass inside. Eliza peered in and poked a red button on the top. It fizzled and whirred to life. Two copper spring legs popped out of the bottom and the force of the push broke the top of the crate. Wood flew everywhere as the ladies backed away from falling splinters. The top of the sphere clicked and a circular section arose and spun around, revealing red glowing lights, in the shape of eyes. Other brightly colored lights began to blink along the sides, illuminating various buttons. They continued to back up as the sphere walked out into the middle of the parlor and stood. With a hiss, the legs disappeared into the body and it fell to the ground. All the lights shut off and again it was nothing more than a five foot tall brass ball in the middle of the parlor.
“Barty, I think we are all going to need another drink in here,” Jillian called over her shoulder.
“Yes, Madam,” he replied in an unsurprised, monotone voice.
They all three stood in front of the thing and stared at each other. Eliza walked to the mystery and turned to her friends. “What exactly did the Colonel think we could do with this?”
Seriously? Have I only been writing this NaNo mess for Four Days? I have fortyonethousandninehundredandfiftyeight words left to write.
Holy. Fargin. Shite.
That's a ton of words.
I'm averaging a day ahead, but I feel like warmed over ass and still have at least 1,600 words to go for today. I'm hoping I can keep up this pace.
In the meantime, I've had a lot of fun hammering out these characters and their motives. I did switch back to the Victorian era idea since I had already done a little research. The story is flowing pretty easily when I do have the time and attention span to - LOOK A KITTY :: scampers off::
Someone fit me for one of these. I may need it next week.Or later this afternoon.
I'll leave you with a tidbit from the monstrosity. Have a great week.
Excerpt: The Electrifying Exploits of the English Three
At Silas Willoughby's house, Jillian excused herself from behind the piano and took her handbag to the bathroom. A tiny tinkling chime emitted from her purse and she opened it to pull out an ear piece identical to Eliza's. She clipped it to her ear, twisted the screw, waiting for the cogs to spin.
“Hello, Eliza?” she spoke quietly into the golden stem.
“Yes, Jillian. I cannot talk long. I received the missive from Colonel Cuthbert.” Her voice was static ridden through the device, but Jillian could make out what she was saying.
“Cuthbert? What does he want this time?”
“He hasn't given me many details, but there is a Countess Millicent Wilmont who needs attending to. I could not wait to get out of Silas' house to call.”
“Millicent Wilmont? The crazed old bat who tried to burn down parliament because it smelled like day old fish?” Jillian listened as Eliza laughed.
“Yes, one and the same. She has decided to take it upon herself to rid us of the new Tower Bridge.”
“Well, why ever for?”
“That, I am afraid I do not know, dear friend. I will have to find out from Col. Cuthbert.”
“This should be a fun task.”
“Indeed.”
“How is the rest of the dinner party?”
“Dreadful. Devin Dashing has finished his newspaper and has been staring at me for the past quarter hour as if I am but a scone to be eaten. Silas keeps going back into this office and returning, most annoyed. Where did you find the missive this time?”
“In his office.”
“Naturally! That's why he's annoyed. He probably thinks you stole something.”
“Oh, posh. He has nothing in there to steal.”
“Only his virtue,” Jillian quipped with a snickering smile. She listened as Eliza laughed again.
“I should turn this thing off before my driver thinks I've gone mad.”
“Shall I come tomorrow morning to discuss the details?”
“Yes, do. Send word to Miriam as well. We shall meet around noon.”
“Noon? Why so late?”
Eliza cleared her throat. “I have a prior engagement.”
“Oh, do tell. Has the Mr. von Wilstrom returned, then?”
“Jillian, please. He shan't grace my doorstep again. I only await the powers that be to grace a divorce to me so that I can be done with him.”
“Eliza, really? You think he would really divorce you? Whatever would people say?”
“I do not care what they say. I figure, after the next assignment the Colonel puts us through, I shall have enough income to support myself. Perhaps I'll go overseas.”
“You cannot leave me!”
Someone knocked on the door to the restroom and Jillian dropped her voice. “I have to go, someone is here. I shall see you at noon.” She took the ear piece out and tucked it back into her handbag, the little device's cogs slowly spinning to a halt.
“Ms. Johnsworth, are you all right?” She heard Mr. Dashing on the other side of the door.
“Quite. I was just over heated from the parlor. I needed to refresh myself.” She stepped out to come face to chest to the man. He took a step backwards, allowing her to exit.
“My apologies. I did not mean to intrude on your privacy.”
“No bother. I was just about to call for my carriage.”
“Do you have an escort this evening?”
“Why of course, I always do.” Her tone was defensive. Devin Dashing bowed again and allowed her to pass. As she walked back into the the main foyer to summon her traveling maid, Mr. Dashing peeked into the bathroom to see if there was someone else in there with her. He frowned as he found no one and returned to the parlor.
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