A sample of my NaNoWriMo project

Yesterday, my good friend and fellow writer Becke Martin linked me over to Jenny Crusie's blog. Jenny posted a sample of her NaNoWriMo work in progress and I thought, "I can do that, too."

Hers was brilliant. Mine is . . . well, 350 more words.


"So there you are," she muttered. "It's about time."
"Not my fault. Writer put in 45,000 words of back story."

"Dude, you’re the hero! Instead of meandering across the countryside gathering mixed-species children you could have been hunting me down."

"Again…I'm not the one writing this story," he sighed. NO! He said, sighingly. "So now what?"

"How should I know?" she huffed huffingly, and flipped her black dreadlocks over her shoulder, flippantly.

He looked at her out the corners of both of his sea-green torquoisey eyes,

"I suppose she want us to get it on," he said dubious—NO, with great dubiosity.


"No offense, but you smell."

"You try going feral for the winter and killing people willy-nilly. You'd have body odor, too, Pretty-Boy."

"Is that how you've been spending your time?"

"Did you not READ the last 45,000 words?" she rolled her well-lubricated eyes. They were not, however, as well-lubricated as his, him being a sea-creature and all.

"And what's with that, anyway, Dude? Your Dad's a jellyfish."
"God. My Dad's a minor god. And he doesn't stink."

"Yeah, right. He just smells like jellyfish."

"Lady, you are not making me think of sex right now."

"Bullshit. You are semi-hard. You've been semi-hard ever since you walked into my forest and saw me chopping wood or whatever it is she's going to have us do when she goes back and finally writes the first eye-to-body contact moment. I'll probably be mostly naked. I usually am."

"It's the dead of winter."

"Not my problem. She can fix it in the edits, Dude."

"And what's with you calling me 'Dude' all of the sudden? It's a total anachronism."

She shook her head shakingly, her dreadlocks flying in disgusted disbelief. "Look up at the sky! The planet has two moons, which clearly means we're in an alternate reality, which clearly means she can break all sorts of rules regarding authenticity. My girl knows how to cheat."

"I doubt she will get away with that," he replied, with even more dubiosity than before.

She laughed,

"It's NaNoWriMo. She'll get away with everything."