I’m currently feeling very triumphant because for the first time all month I am caught up with my Nanowrimo wordcount! *waves the pompoms of glory* I’m amy_raenbow over there and always happy to have new writing buddies if anyone want to say hi. This year’s project is the sequel to Reawakening, which is my upcoming novel.
It’s been a busy few weeks, because I’ve been busy with edits to Reawakening as well as coming up with a map and glossary to go with it, which was fun (for me, if not for the folk who suddenly got confronted with a glossary that got just a little out of hand). I’ve also signed a contract for a Valentines short story set in 1920 🙂 In all the excitement, however, my desk got a little out of hand (this is on the 30th of October, in the space between editing and Nanoing).
It’s not quite that bad right now, but we’re only ten days into November and it’s steadily building layers.
In the meantime, have a tiny peep at what I’ve been writing. No smooches this week, I’m afraid, because I’m not far enough into the book. Here’s Iskandir reminiscing about the people he loved.
They had never seen stone buildings before they rode north to answer the great summons, nor spoken with men who lived more than a mile from the edge of the steppes. Neither of them had been able to read or write their names—there had been nothing to write on in the steppes and they had tally sticks for counting their herds. They had not been ready to meet dragons. No wonder Hal had kept calling them barbarians.
Zohrab hadn’t cared much whether Hal liked him, though. He’d seen being part of a dragon’s hoard as a necessary nuisance. He had laughed for a long time when he realised why Iskandir was so flustered by the dragon. Once he had stopped guffawing, though, after Iskandir had punched him a few times, he had helped come up with excuses for Iskandir to wander into the infirmary as often as possible.
When that didn’t work, he’d also been the one to stroll in cheerfully, and announce, “My brother wants to fuck you, dragon. How about it?”
At the time, Iskandir had wanted to kill him, but remembering it now made him smile. It had worked, after all. Hal had kissed him for the first time not an hour later, after they’d hounded Zohrab out of the infirmary. It had been—
His foot slipped from under him, and he staggered for balance, jerked out of the memory. Looking down, he grimaced. He had stepped on a dead rat.
He kicked it into the gutter and then frowned, taking a closer look. There were four more lying there, their greasy fur matted and a pink froth drying around their mouths. He didn’t like the creatures, which had come creeping into the city as it declined under the Shadow’s rule. He wasn’t going to weep for their demise, but something about that little heap made him shudder. Poison, no doubt, but it looked like a particularly cruel one.
How’s your November going? 🙂