Show me yours blogfest. My NaNo excerpt. Death on Nantucket.

Thanks to Sarah, Hannah and Summer for hosting this blogfest, where we share a tweaked scene from our NaNo 2010 novel.  I am sharing a scene just before the climax of the novel. Shakira, the MC, has been assaulted early in the story by an unknown assailant. In this scene towards the end of the novel, things are beginning to unravel...WARNING: A little bit of language here may offend...

She stopped the car. Where was she? She had no idea really. She’d been crying so hard she'd hardly been able to see. At least she'd had enough sense to pull over.

She got out of the car and looked around. She was near Ronaldo’s cottage. She felt cold and scared. What was wrong with her? What had drawn her back?

She looked towards the ocean. It always comforted her to see the water. It was so dark now she could only see the white of the froth in the moon’s glow.

A chilly breeze made her wish she’d brought a sweater but she’d been in such a hurry to get to Byron, a sweater had been the last thing on her mind.


She looked up the gravel road. She was on the road to Ronaldo Gonzalez’s place.


‘What you doin’ here?’
Shakira jumped. Turned around.
Ronaldo’s hulk stood on the other side of her car. He leaned against the bonnet, hands on hips, staring hard.
‘I…I was just driving. Got lost,’ she explained, edging closer to the driver’s door, fear making her voice reedy.
Ronaldo edged to the front of the car, not touching anything.


No evidence, she thought, a slow, creepy chill spreading up her spine.


She reached the driver’s door at the same time as Ronaldo.


His hand gripped hers.


It hurt, even through his big leather glove.


No fingerprints. No evidence. Stay with it Shakira.


‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he snarled.
‘I’ve got to get home. Someone’s waiting for me.’ Shakira tried to sound confident.
‘Liar.’
‘I...I…’
‘Don’t worry. We all lie. Like you lied when you came to test my bees.’
‘How did I lie?’
‘You made out you didn’t know me, were meeting me for the first time.’
‘I was.’
‘Liar!’ he hissed.
‘What do you mean?’ Hedge.
‘You’ve met me before. We both know it. We were close.’


She held her tongue as a faintness crept over her.


‘It was great. Wasn’t it?’


She was silent, her tongue stiff in her mouth.


He yelled into her face. ‘Answer me! It was great, wasn’t it?’


Her head snapped back. ‘Why me? Why did you choose me?


Ronaldo snickered.


‘You are special. I always choose special. I watched you move into your cute little house. Mommy and Daddy’s house. All pretty gray and white, just like a good Nantucket house should be. And I looked at you, all pretty and white, just like a good girl should be. I fixed that, didn’t I?’


‘What did I ever do to you?’


‘Not you so much, little girly, it’s those parents of yours. I’ve seen ‘em comin’ onto the island for years ‘n’ years. I’ve seen ‘em around town. Big time Senator and his good wifey.’


‘What did they ever do to you?’


‘What did they never do to me, you mean? They didn’t know I was alive, that’s what. Always callin' me to their pretty home to remove bee swarms. Too good for me weren’t they? Threw some money at me like I’d just crawled out from under some rock. I don’t like to be treated like garbage.’


He stepped closer until the length of his body was against hers. She tried not to tremble. She concentrated on working her fingers back to the door handle.

‘I got them back, though, didn’t I?’ he yelled into her face, spraying her with spittle. ‘Fucked up their pretty little fairy daughter didn’t I? Hey, but she’s tougher than I thought, isn’t she? Tried to kill her but the little fairy wouldn’t die would she?’ He gave her a long considering look, dropping his voice an octave. ‘I gotta finish what I start. I don’t mess up.’ He grabbed her arms and tossed her close to the edge of the cliff like she was feather-light. She hadn’t anticipated his move, so she fell hard.

Shakira yelped with the pain in her hip where she’d hit the gravel. Her head was right over the edge of the cliff. She could hear the waves crashing onto the rocks below. She was looking at her death.

END OF SCENE
 
Go here for more NaNo excerpts...
 

©DeniseCovey2011

Midwinter Blogfest entry - Interlude of Solitude, a warm Christmas on Nantucket

Thanks to Marieke from Mariekes Musings for hosting this blogfest where she suggested we show what our MC in our WIP is doing for Christmas.

I wrote an interlude using my MCs from my latest NaNo novel, 'Search for the Last Cowboy.' Shakira and Byron have been to hell and back, and are now married and looking forward to their first Christmas together on Nantucket which they have made their home.

This is not my typical story - there are no deaths, no fast-paced action, no twists. I've just written a peaceful interlude into their turbulent lives especially for Marieke's blogfest. I hope you enjoy it along with your Christmas preparations, whether in a cold clime as in my story, or in a warm clime such as I experience.

And yes, I spent a long time cutting it down to just under 500 words!

CHRISTMAS INTERLUDE OF SOLITUDE

Shakira should have been exhausted after the nightmare of the ferry ride from Hyannis. She and Byron had shivered in the Fog Island Café for hours waiting to get back to Nantucket for Christmas. They were amongst the last passengers to make it.


They kept their lunch reservation at The Blue Fin, their favorite bar on North Beach Street. After some Seared Rare Yellow fin Tuna for Byron and a curried Miso and Lobster Reduction for Shakira they rugged up and began their Christmas Stroll down Harbor House Village.

The snow was falling, the wind was blowing, and the Christmas trees downtown created the perfect setting for their stroll. So did Main Street, but it was dangerous to walk on the cobblestones slick with ice. They held each other close and laughed and slipped their way down the street until it was time for dinner.

Byron had left nothing to chance. He had wanted their first Christmas on Nantucket as husband and wife to be perfect. That meant Michael LaScola’s.


Byron liked Michael’s because the menu was divided into selections from four different areas of the country - Pacific Coast, Down South, New England and Wild West. Shakira had never been to Michael’s, so Byron took her to the old home just outside of the center of town. It was wonderfully dark and romantic.


Shakira loved it instantly.


‘Oh, Byron, it’s perfect,’ she said, as he took her coat. Byron looked around. He loved the wide-beamed wood plank ceilings, the wide pane windows, the wall murals and sconces, the soft jazz music. 'Hmm,' he said, dropping a kiss on the top of her head.


After their mulled wine, Byron started with a choice from Down South - seared scallops with pulled pork, tomato and red onion marmalade in a roasted corn sauce. Shakira couldn’t resist the orange and basil butter poached lobster from New England, with baby beets and asparagus in a vanilla soubise. Both dishes tasted sublime accompanied by the NZ Sauvignon Blanc they’d chosen.

For mains, Byron had sake-glazed tuna from the Pacific Coast with a shitake mushroom slaw, avocado and wasabi puree and a sesame seed and potato gyoza. Shakira had a hanger steak in a roasted garlic jus (Down South) with buttermilk mashed potatoes and a slow roasted short rib that had an incredible flavor.

For dessert they fed each other the Key Lime pie. Then they kicked back and enjoyed a sweet dessert wine to finish.


They just made it home before the rain started.


‘Happy, my love?’ Byron asked as they lay in each other’s arms listening to the storm.


Shakira moved to his chest and whispered close to his ear. ‘Say that poem to me again Byron.’


He held her tightly and began in his best Lord Byron voice:

‘She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes:'

‘Sleep well my love,’ they whispered to each other.
 
Now let's shut the door on Byron and Shakira and go here  to read some more entries...

Oh, and if you'd like to do a twisted fairytale Christmas yarn, click Francine's button on my sidebar, or talk about your lights, tinsel and food for Christmas click on the Be Jolly badge.

If google says it, it must be so...my hymn of praise to the mighty google

My fingers pummel the keyboard into submission. I'm plum out of words. The muse has deserted me. NaNoWriMo is past the halfway mark and I'm behind in my word count - should be well over 25.000 words by now, loser!

I take out my frustration on my keyboard and hurl it against the wall. Silly hunk of logitec plastic just shredded itself. Now what am I going to do? Let's try pen and paper. Cramp! Not used to that, RSI already! Botheration! Now what?

Aah, I lie down and dream of...Barbara Cartland. Where's my chaise? Let me lie here and dictate my words to a lesser mortal. But, even now there's a problem...what could possibly be wrong now? I've got everything - the pink hair, the pink frilly frock, the pink chaise, the pink fingernails, the pink drink with its pink umbrella, the pink dog, the pink ribbons, but...


 
I need more research! Now! Right now! I shouldn't have smashed that bit of not-so-useless plastic after all because it can do what not even Barbara Cartland could do - google google!
 
Why am I desperate for my google fix? Because I need to know a few more facts/names/places and what better way to find out? Better run off to my local JB Hi-Fi and grab another logitec, maybe one with light touch keys this time. 


Well I drowned myself in so many pre-NaNo writer's guides, most of which frown on pantsers like me, so I tried, I really dd, to get my outline together, my story idea fleshed out from start to fini, and my character profiles...blah blah. Trouble is, my outline was out the window on the second day as my headstrong characters snatched the reins outta my hands and trotted off in another direction or three, bolting away with my story and leaving me hanging on tight and gasping for more...research...

My writer's guides said to get your research done beforehand  - it may take months I read - hello? Who's got a month, even, to research for NaNo? So I've taken to pen and paper and have been trying to keep ahead of my bossy boots characters - Need to Know This, Need to Know That, lists, lists, lists...

I'm a firm believer in not in writing about what you know, but about what you would like to know. I therefore rely on the big R - RESEARCH! To make it harder on myself (and more interesting too!) I've set my story mainly on Nantucket island, MA in the mighty US of A. The queries I've made for this story say it would work best in America, so go figure. Not too hard - it's the R capital of the world. Therefore lies a passel of problems - language, settings, accents, dress, beliefs, police procedures - how different are they from country to country! We all have our own lingo and don't we chuckle knowingly when we read a book by a writer who's obviously never been in our country tries to give the character our voice and we fall down laughing 'cause we'd never speak like that, fair dinkum'!

So, I don't want American readers (and I hope I get some!) falling down laughing/guffawing/cracking up/going hysterical at my Americanisms, so I've been tapping into Stephen Fry's America (where he has a list of British words and their
American counterparts,) reading a lot of books set in Nantucket, but most of all I've been googling!
I've run out of things to say!

How easy is it to soldier on! For example:

I NEED TO KNOW;

1. How do the cranberries get harvested on Nantucket?

• No problem - here's a video, watch it in awe - here's the history, here's the manager blah, blah...

2. What's the name of a cafe where my MC could meet her beloved?

• No problem, here's a video - and a review or two -and the menu - anything else?

3. Ah, what do houses look like on the island?

• No problem - take a virtual tour of all the properties for sale/rent on Nantucket. Now go inside. Lookie there! Here's some further info...ready...there is a strict building code...only built in shingles...blah blah...

4. What do they call police in Nantucket? Sheriff, Inspector, Officer, Cops, Pigs?

• No problem. Take a virtual tour of the new, just-opening-soon, police headquarters. Here's a list of the officers' names and ranks. Here's the address. Now go inside and take the lift - there is the Chief of Police's office - there is a blah blah...What else can I help you with?? Oh, and Sheriff Wyatt Earp (not his real moniker) just got stood down coz he liked to wave his piece/gun/weapon/firearm/Magnum/Glock/ around...

Get the drift? Just gotta say how much more thrilling research is in the google days. How could we live without such instant gratification?

Now I can finally throw away my dream of being Ernest Hemingway - the running with the bulls is on in Pamploma, Spain. Like let''s go and get plastered and watch a bit of the excitement, but you didn't think I was going to be sober enough to run ahead of a mob of maurauding beasts with big horns, did you? But I'll write a great book about it - well, it's not just about the bulls, but it makes a cute interlude...

.The Sun Also Rises 

Now I can google all the silly bull I like, unless they've banned all the fun and games by now...better get on google and find out...lol...

Happy NaNo-ing, and more sane writing all!

Denise :D

All images thanks to google images - gotta love it!

This blog entry is part of the NaNo"WriMo blogline.

Disclaimer: The words and phrase in this post may confuse you as they confuse the author being as they are a conglomeration of Australian, British and American English. Can you tell which is which?