November 2007

Guess what, people? I WIN! I TOTALLY WIN! I wrote a 50,000 word novel in 28 days! Er, 27 days and 22 hours!

I'd like to thank my critique partner for her many words of encouragement and for telling me I don't suck during week two. I'd like to thank my husband for doing without clean laundry or any form of supper for many weeks, and for dispensing the occasional and much-enjoyed neck rub. Also, NaNo chat room, you got me out of several plot holes and gave me something to do when I was procrastinating. I know I'm forgetting someone, but the Wrap It Up music is playing...

Wanna know how it was? It was so cool. I was writing the last scene, you know, the one where everything gets resolved and all is right with the world, and Desperado was playing on iTunes, and I was crying like in that scene from Romancing the Stone, and then THEY LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER!

Ok, I'm giddy and I'm going to go drink wine now but I just had to stop in and tell you. Weeee!

Oh my god, death. Do not ever get behind on your wordcount, people, because catching up is total yuck. I need one more marathon day tomorrow to catch up, but I doubt I'm going to get it, as I have to make a pie and cranberry sauce and mac and cheese. Not that I'm complaining, because food, yum, but still, it's less time for writing.

So who wants a snippet? Don't lie, you totally do. And even if you don't, it's too bad because my brain is far too fried to think of anything else to give you:

“Oh, Monsieur Stone!” exclaimed Gaston the little French shoe salesman. “It is always a pleasure to see you. With what may I help you today?”

“Uh. Shoes.”

“But of course, Monsieur Stone,” Gaston said, apparently unphased by the fact that Hunter had asked for nothing more specific than “shoes” in a shoe store.

He sat in one of the cushy arm chairs while Gaston ran to the back room for Lord only knew what. He didn’t care. Gaston could bring back pink fuzzy slippers and Hunter would probably buy them. He groaned and ran his hand down his face. It would be ok. He would get over this. It was just a little bump in the road was all.

He and Jocelyn would just have to go back to hating each other. That was the easiest solution. They certainly had enough reason. Well, at least Jocelyn did. He’d kidnapped her, after all, and he was sure she hadn’t forgotten it. On top of that, he’d made fun of her offer of casual sex, then taken her up on it, and now he was about to cut her off. He was definitely a jerk, and there was no way she’d have any problem hating him.

He realized he should probably hate her too, just because of her job, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not anymore. He’d have to think of some other reason. Or maybe just pretend. He was an actor, he could pretend. Right? Of course right. He’d done it a thousand times before. He’d just pretend to be cold and disinterested. It didn’t matter how he actually felt anyway. All that mattered was that he could get through the next few days without making a complete fool of himself.

Gaston returned with heaps of boxes and set them down next to Hunter.

“We have the newest styles, Monsieur Stone,” Gaston assured him. “Tres chic.”

Hunter rolled his eyes, almost sure that Gaston only said those awfully French things because he thought people expected it. Hell, the accent was probably fake too.

Gaston pulled out a pair of brown loafers for Hunter. Hunter shook his head.

“I’m looking for ladies shoes today, Gaston.”

Gaston blinked. “Of course, Monsieur Stone… What size would you say you need?” He eyed Hunter’s big foot skeptically.

Hunter rolled his eyes. “Just bring out some shoes that will match a green dress.”

Gaston turned three shades of purple, but complied without another word.