all kinds of writing
 
 
 
After having such a great time doing this last year, and being able to actually prove to myself that I could write a 70,000+ word manuscript in 30 days I decided to go for it again this year. Below is my track record so far. Days 1-2: words: 2354 2354 Days 3-4: words: 721 3075 Days: 5-6: words: revisions 4143 words: 1827 5971 Days: 7-8: words: 2549 8520 Days: 9-10: words: 5300 13820 Days: 11-12: words: ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Here’s an excerpt from: IN SEARCH OF THE BELOVED Vivian had felt the shock of his voice and turned toward the sound of it to see Lugh standing beneath a hazel tree. He reached out to her and she moved to go to him, aware that her toe had struck something solid and that she was falling. She shut her eyes, grinding her teeth together, waiting to feel the impact with the earth. His laugh caused her to open her eyes. She was in his arms, staring into eyes the color of a clear-blue sky. “Why do you fear me, Banba?” Lugh asked. “I don’t fear you,” she replied, pushing his arms away from her and twirling out of his reach. She smiled at him over her shoulder and went to the stream where she sat down on the grass and trailed her fingers in the crystal clear water. “Oh but you do?” he stated so matter-of-factly that Vivian seemed annoyed. She held her chin up and pursed her lips. He laughed and moved behind her. He ran the tips of his fingers over the crown of her head. “You always have,” he whispered. There was something so profoundly sad about the way he said that; it made me feel sad and suddenly feeling an emotion within the first few minutes of my first mission as a Faery Chronicler was quite unnerving—a most peculiar situation to be in, for sure. Sinend had been Vivian’s witness for years, but had been suddenly called elsewhere at the last minute and I had received the imprint for my first mission: Vivian McFarlain. I hiccuped, clamping a hand over my mouth for fear Lugh and Vivian would hear me; that my secrecy would be given away. I turned and fled, stopping only when I came face-to-face with a dwarf when he stepped out from behind a blackthorn hedge. “Where are ye going?” he asked squinting his eyes at me under bushy eyebrows and making me feel quite nervous. He pointed in the direction I’d just come. “Go back.” “But I’ve the hiccups!” I said hiccuping again. “Then be rid of them,” he said, shaking his pointing finger. “Back with ye now. Ye’re on mission from the Faery Princess Ainé and ye don’t want to fail on yer first day now do ye?” I felt so young and inexperienced right then. I shook my head, my thoughts going to Ainé our new Faery Chronicler Despot. We—all the witnesses—had been told this the day Ainé accepted the new position, having served for an eternity as the Irish Goddess of Love & Fertility. We were surprised to receive such information. Witnesses of the past had never known who actually assigned the Faery Chronicler missions; they simply received a psychic imprint when one was given. Past witnesses never thought to inquire after who the despot was. They weren’t interested in knowing. They were of the old blood and aligned with the old energy, so much that they lacked all human emotion. It was Sinend, the Chronicler whom I replaced, that had changed the rule. Her deep connection to her human—Vivian McFarlain—as well as to Ainé had caused our Mor Riogan Macha to make the decree that all witnesses would be told who the despot was. The dwarf smiled. “Good,” he said having tolerated my musing long enough. “I’ll be saying farewell to ye then, as I’m off back to Faeryland and won’t be seeing ye again.” He turned to leave. “Fer Í?” I said not quite knowing why I felt a need to stop him. He turned back toward me, both hands coming to his hips. “Aye?” “Uhm…,” I said. I was stalling and I think he knew it because he cocked his head to one side as if saying, “Think of something quick!” Fer Í had been deeply wounded by Ainé, mainly because when he was still a mortal he had deeply loved her but she had chosen another mortal, Geároid Iarla, the Second Earl of Desmond, with whom to experience love. She had gone so far as to allow herself to be captured by Geároid while manifested in a physical body. Ainé became Geároid’s Faery wife and gave him a son along with a geas (Faery taboo): never to show surprise over anything their son Gerald did. But being human Geároid had broken the geas on Gerald’s eighteenth birthday when the young earl performed a miraculous feat. Ainé changed her self and Gerald into swans and departed at once. She was freed from human captivity to return to Faeryland, while she punished her son Gerald for having shown-off, cursing him to remain in swan form for 200 years. After Ainé left, Geároid went crazy and turned to sorcery, delving into the darkside, working the black arts in an attempt to recapture his Faery wife. This began a cat and mouse chase between Geároid and Ainé throughout the centuries, finally ending tragically in 1998. Heartbroken, Ainé willingly surrendered her role as the Goddess of Love & Fertility to become the new Faery Chronicler Despot. She said she was through with human emotion. Her situation had been a matter of great concern and discussion amongst the Hosts, drawing into council even the darkest of Sidhe, Finvara and his wife Oonagh. Finvara and Oonagh were king and queen of the Connaught Sidhe. Their palace was located at Knockma. Finvara was also the king over the dead, and because of this his kingdom was left alone, for even the other Hosts feared his wrath or having contact with the maleficent Unseelie Court who pledged their allegiance to him. Rarely, was a summons extended to Finvara and Oonagh to council with our Mor Riogan Macha and the Hosts, for all other provincial Faery courts knew that to become involved with Finvara’s infamous revelries on November Eve, when Faery, ghost, and human alike could be caught in his Dance of the Dead would mean captivity in his kingdom from that night forth—with no escape possible. The other Hosts did not wish to receive his invitation to be a guest at his next revelry. Fer Í coughed. I smiled. He frowned. “Will it always be this hard?” I finally asked trusting the first thing to come into my mind. He finally smiled, his round face softening instantly. That’s when I saw why Ainé trusted this creature so much. “It’s only just beginning,” he said, his voice the sound of a lovely melody floating on the breeze from some faraway place.
2008 NANO Process
Tuesday, November 11, 2008