I hope November is treating you right. I’m trucking along. I joined a “mini” NaNoWriMo challenge over on Livejournal with a goal of 750 words per day. I’ve made it every day so far although I can’t say it’s always been easy. I did switch to writing a nonfiction article for several of the days in order to get me through over the weekend. Whatever works, right?
I want to let everyone know about a promotion opportunity that I’ll be participating in this year – and that you can participate in as well. It’s called READ TUESDAY and it takes place on December 9, 2014. Learn more on the website http://readtuesday.com/
Now for my work in progress (WIPpet) which is supposed to take place on Wednesday every week. I’m just a little early. And we’ll gloss over the fact that I haven’t participated at all for the past two weeks. I’ve been doing stuff. Making mosaics of dubious quality, selling cockatiels, riding bikes with my dogs, taking painkillers for an ornery hip, and eating FAR too much. Among other things. And time management? So not my forte. Or even calendar management. I should just accept that about myself and remain an intermittent participant, it seems.
Okay, K.L. Schwengel is the organizer of this weekly affair, which involves posting a date-related snippet of one’s work in progress. I’m working on an alternate history of sorts which takes place in a slightly different version of the world from 1880-1930. The theme is that it involves icy regions of the earth – the Antarctica and the Arctic and other desolate and fascinating places and the
hunky dudes people who inhabit them (thus, the series is called “Icebound”). Here is the beginning from volume 2, “All Mouth and No Trousers,” currently in progress. For your enjoyment here is 11 sentences for the month of November and an extra sentence as a bonus. Some of you may remember Electa from previous snippets. Written quick and dirty, without editing, which is probably all too apparent. Oh, I should probably note that I know nothing about military ranks, British or otherwise, but that is something I will fix before finishing the story.
Of all the foes Commandant Gorge Elderbatch had fought in his thirty-odd years as a British naval officer – enemy combatants, pirates, insubordinates, pestilence, penury, and probably some other he couldn’t think of off the fly – one stood out above the others. One who was the most difficult, the most intractable, the most completely infuriating. That one was his secretary, Miss Electa Yellowsmile.
Oh, she looked harmless enough. Young enough to be his daughter – twenty or twenty-five at the most – all of 105 pounds soaking wet, most slender and willowy, doll-like with her perfect blonde hair and clear wide blue eyes, her long and delicate fingers and tapping away on the Smith Premier typewriter, unfazed by his rather imposing (if he did say so himself) presence.
“You will most certainly retype that order, Miss Yellowsmile,” he instructed, jabbing his finger at the trash bin like a bayonet. She had taken one look at the order for two boxes of premium cigars and six tins of grade A snuff and ripped it down the center before depositing it in the waste can.
Outrageous! Indubitably and irrefutably outrageous!
Electa continued typing for several excruciating moments, posture erect, crisp lace collar shockingly white and open slightly to reveal the unblemished skin of her pale neck. Her eyes flicked to his scribbled notes at her right and her smooth, painted red fingernails created a discordant staccato on the keys with practiced efficiency.
“Miss Yellowsmile, do me the honor of looking me in the eye when you commit mutiny!”
That got her attention.
That’s it for this week. Join in if you like: