RSS

Almost a week in...

Owl City. The Hush Sound. Alexander Rybak.

Seriously. These guys are the only reason I'm even close to 10,000 words***. Sometimes, the only reason I want to write is because it means I can blast these guys through the house.

This is one of the hardest things I've ever done... ever. Whoever said "you are your worst critic" is right. I am tearing myself apart with this thing. I think some of it is pretty good, but for the most part, it's crap, and that is really discouraging.

Never mind that it shouldn't be discouraging. Never mind that I'm trying to write a novel in a month. Never mind that it's a first draft. Never mind that it's just a challenge, that I didn't go into this thinking I was getting published. I still tear myself apart.

But I've got some great support, and a bunch of really awesome people who are willing to be honest with me, and help me to at least not write Twilight.

And then there's Chris Baty. Chris Baty has been doing NaNoWriMo for 11 years. I know what you're thinking. Someone who's spent that many years writing novels must have poetic awesomeness flowing from his fingers. When he opens his mouth, each and every word must gallop out like an epic unicorn of epicness. People may even mistake him for Chuck Norris when they pass him on the street.

And you're right. He's Epic incarnate. And he's super encouraging, and pretty funny (fellow nano competitors probably know what I'm talking about... cloud-forehead server, anyone? XD)

SO... all of that is just to say... here's the next excerpt. Hopefully it isn't as painful for you to read as it was for me to write it. ^__^

“Sorry… now, you have to explain. Why was it so hard to get you to smile?”

“I had a bad experience with a guy. I was being nice, totally wasn’t interested, but he seemed interested in me, and I didn’t want to be rude. The next day, every one knows me as the girl that leads men on.” Eric winced.

“So… now what? You’re terrified that’ll happen again?”

“Not terrified, but I’d like to not have to deal with it. I have enough on my plate as it is.”

“Any of that happen to be what you wanted to think about?”

“Sort of. I have a few questions floating around in my head, I wanted to kind of sort them out.” She shrugged. There, that was vague enough for him. It had to be.

“What kind of questions?”

“Ones that deal with my sanity.” She froze. The words had not been spoken so much as they had jumped out of her mouth before she could catch them. He cocked an eyebrow, an awkward half smile on his face.

“Run that by me again?”

“Nothing, it was nothing. I misspoke.”

“You misspoke.” He shook his head. “Alright, fair enough. You didn’t press me about the love thing, I won’t press you about this. Just…” He leaned forward, his face serious. “Just remember this when you go postal and shoot everyone up, alright? Remember, I was nice to you.” That smile broke out on his face, and she couldn’t help but laugh again.

“Good Lord you’re charming,” she said. “I can almost see it coming out your pores.”

“Such is my curse,” he replied. “I kicked a dog once – on accident, get that look off of your face – and the dog’s owner didn’t care. She was still absolutely twitterpated.”

“Wow. Talk about narrow-minded... I don’t care what you do, just so long as I get laid.”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Was she at least angry when you turned her down?”

“Well,” he said, that same sheepish smile gracing his face. “I um… I don’t really reject women all that… bluntly. They don’t really realize I’m rejecting them until I… you know… don’t call. I suspect she was angry, once she found out… or she forgot.”

“You probably gave her dog Parvo. Her dog is probably dead because you kicked it, and she didn’t care. She didn’t take it to the vet because she thought you’d call… you’re horrible.”

“That’s me,” he said with a laugh. “Eric Baker, dog murderer.”

“I’m pretty sure there’s a special ring of hell reserved for people like you.” They laughed again, and Vivian had to admit, she liked the kid. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she just felt like she needed to keep talking to him. Not that she wanted to, she needed to. They continued to talk through-out the evening about anything and everything, ranging from music to movies to favorite play writes. By the time she hid her face behind her hand to let a yawn escape, they had found a number of interests that they shared. They had even swapped artists and authors, sharing favorites the other had either never explored or never heard of.

“Getting tired?” Eric asked, and she shook her head.

“I’m bored with you. Next.”

“Sadly, I’m the only act on this particular tour.” She laughed.

“How much do I owe you?”

“For what?” She pointed to the empty glass in front of her, and he looked at her as if the thought of her buying her own drink offended and annoyed him. “Really? I got it.”

“Are you sure?”

“No, actually, I think I may go bankrupt, but I offered to buy it for you, so I will.” The look was still on his face, and she couldn’t help but smile. And, though she pushed it to the back of her mind, that feeling of Déjà vu came rushing back. “If I overdraw my pitiful account, I’ll let you cover the—”

“Okay, okay, buy the damn drink.”

“Can I walk you to your car?”

“I took a cab, and I live right down the street. I’m fine walking.”

“No,” he said. He wasn’t forceful, but there was a tone of finality in his voice. He wasn’t sure why, but the idea of her walking home alone bothered him. “It’s late, and it’s dark. I’ll give you a ride.”

“No really, I can walk.”

“I don’t doubt you have the ability. But you aren’t walking home, not on my watch. Besides, if anything happened to you, Aaron would kill me. No, I’ll give you a ride. Just let me pay for this and let Aaron know I’m leaving.”

“Oh, I wanna see that.” She smirked. “I wanna see him hit on you.” He laughed and shook his head.

“For my sake, I hope you don’t get much of a show.” She followed him to the bar and waited while he paid. As they waited for the bar tender to bring his card back, she couldn’t help but look at him. She could see why so many girls threw themselves at him, and she couldn’t help but feel bad for them. None of them got the chance to talk to him like she had, and thus they had no idea what they were missing out on. After a while the bartender returned, and the two headed for the table. As they neared it, they could hear the drunken laughter, and both let out a sigh.

“They get smashed so often,” she said, and Eric nodded.

“Yeah, I know… Aaron,” he said, and the older band member looked back over his shoulder.

“ERIC!” He said, standing and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He pulled him closer and smiled at him. “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to join us.” His words were slurred together, his voice loud.

“I’m not,” Eric said, trying to squirm out of Aaron’s grasp. “I’m taking Viv home… oh man, you smell like you took a bath in this stuff.” He made a slight face, but Aaron only pulled him closer. Vivian had to cover her mouth to keep from giggling out loud.

“Yer leaving?” He asked, obviously bummed. “But chu haven’t even had a drink yet.”

“I don’t plan on having one… call me if you guys can’t get a cab.” Vivian could see he was getting uncomfortable, so she marched up and squeezed between the two.

“Alright, Aaron, my turn. I’m tired, I want to go home.” Aaron puckered his lips out and she laughed. “Not on your life, pal. Come on,” she said, turning to Eric. “It’s late.” She threw him a wink before pushing past him, and he quickly followed.

“Thank you,” he said once they were outside. “I hope you enjoyed yourself.” She smiled. His voice was so full of sarcasm, she couldn’t not smile. They walked quietly through the parking lot, both lost a bit to their own thoughts. Thoughts that were very much similar. Each of them felt the same draw to the other, both felt there was some unspoken history between them. It was a confusing thought – they had just met that night – but they couldn’t shake it. Each of them was certain they had met the other before. “Right here,” he said after a while, and she stopped.

“Nice ride,” she said, letting her hand run across the sleek body of the Mustang in front of her. “Is this a ’70?” He grinned from ear to ear.

“You know your cars,” he said.

“Only the ones that matter,” she replied, and her concerns were once again lost as she stared at the vehicle. “And a ’70 Mustang is one of the ones that matter.”



Part one is officially finished. I'll start Part 2 tonight. Hopefully it'll get a little less crappy as the story progresses. ^__^

ALSO - I did my first guest blog last week! I reviewed the Motorola Droid, and since I was planning on sending my few readers over there anyway, I'll just link you over to Justin's blog. I mean, I figure why not... I think our blogs might be related! So, if you're bored, and want to read about Motorola's new toy (and how it DOESN'T measure up to the iPhone.. lol) then head on over to Random Ramblings! (look under Tech Tuesday to read my post)


***This is most certainly not to say that the people who have been helping me aren't appreciated... you most certainly are. You keep my writing from sucking epically. ^__^

  • Digg
  • Del.icio.us
  • StumbleUpon
  • Reddit
  • RSS

1 comments:

Stephanie said...

OMYGOSH ALEXANDER RYBACK!

heh his music is funny... like me...