25,194

That's the final word-count of my NANOWRIMO entry for 2008.

Ah, well - a little more than halfway to the 50,000-word "victory" total. Considering, however, that I didn't even register until Nov. 11, didn't start writing in earnest until Nov. 15th or so, and that I hardly wrote at all last week because Dami was home all week and we spent quality time together instead, that ain't bad. Next year, I'll start on time and write with the same focus that I used last week, when the majority of Holy Creatures To and Fro was written.

Even if I had achieved the 50,000-word goal, the book would not be finished. The adventures of poor, haunted Silk will take more like 75,000-100,000 words to depict, and there might even be a sequel in the works. I'm not sure about how marketable this book wil be - it's not anything that can be easily defined by genre expectations - but I definitely want to finish it. At over 25,000 words, this is my longest non-game work to date(*), with the possible exception of Crossways, which - as a screenplay - uses a different "scale" for completion. The book has a hold on me (I wrote over 3000 words of it today alone), and I want to see it through.

Congratulations go out to snybod, innowen, mutantenemy, gryphonrose and saharial, all of whom passed the finish line. Yay, guys! You inspire me. I'll get started earlier next time. And now, another excerpt teaser from the raw text of Holy Creatures To and Fro. Assuming the book sees publication, it'll probably read differently once it's polished, so here's a chance to see the words from my fingers to this journal. Enjoy!


----------------------

I ran off down Tivoli Terrace, phantom sirens in my ears.

Actually, I doubt they made a sound. Cops don’t roar through suburbia in the middle of the night unless something awful’s going down. Sure, my world was a screaming mess, but for everyone else on Tivoli Terrance, some teenage kid was just having a spat with Daddy.

In hindsight, I suspect it was all discreet: a single cruiser, maybe with its flashers on, sloping to a stop in front of the yellow house. A cop gets out, maybe two of them, possibly wary, probably bored. Nothing to see here, folks. Go to bed. I imagine stern old deputies taking statements from my parents. She’s gotten so wild, don’t know what we could do with her, etc., etc., etc. I imagine a cop’s cold stare, nose wrinkling, perhaps, at the odor of my father’s booze. Would they have taken his word over mine, if I’d talked to them? Or would they have carted me off to a crazy house, dulling me with pills and therapy until I looked more like a zombie than a wolf?

I didn’t risk finding out. I ran.

Behind me, I saw bursts of bright blue fire flickering off the neighbors’ walls. The concrete strobed beneath my pounding feet. I heard garbled bits of alien chatter, the grizzled static of police radio codes. At the end of Sandra Lane, I ditched the sidewalk in favor of the woods. There, I ran toward a path that would take me deep into the woods. I knew that path from long acquaintance, and so as the rough pavement gave way to soft green grass, I charged down the hill and into the woods.

Branches whipped me as I bolted down the path. Stones and sharp twigs prodded my bare feet. Roots tried to trip me. Dirt slid beneath me. Heavy pine scent blended with the smell of my own sweat and musky sex. The path looped down steeply over treacherous falls. Gravity and momentum pulled me along, almost helpless in the dark. My ankle twisted. Pain shot up. I stumbled, but kept running.

I didn’t stop going until the pain in my sides overwhelmed my ability to breathe and the path leveled off at the edge of a creek.

Silence. My heartbeat and heavy breathing became the only things I could hear.
For God-knows-how-long, I hugged myself in the middle of the woods. The breeze tugged lightly on my hair, cooling my sweaty shirt and skin. A yard or two away, the creek trickled in its midnight bed. The sound seemed to rise as I calmed myself down. I breathed the slabby smell of clay and the mossy green coursing of the creek itself. Gradually, I opened my eyes again and looked around.

Heaven, or something like it.

Here, the mist deepened until the moon was almost lost in the sky. My eyes had accustomed themselves to the dark, and a palisade of trees rose proud toward Mother Moon. She lent her glow to the mist around me. It seemed to shimmer of its own accord. The creek slopes arched out and down, carved out by generations of rain and snowmelt. If faeries had existed, this would be their temple, a holy shrine to Earth and Moon as one.

I felt a howl rise inside, but locked it down in case the cops had followed.

Nothing. I was alone.


Tomorrow, more writing. NANOWRIMO may be finished, but Holy Creatures To and Fro is not.



-------------------* - Five or six of my RPG projects have exceeded 100,000 words.