So here goes

… Day one of thirty fiction-packed November days in which I aim to reach my target of writing (at least) 50 thousand words.

According to my progress spreadsheet (sad geek that I am) I’ve completed 3% today – 1733 words of (for me who usually goes literary) surprisingly entertaining stuff.

I decided to list my genre – even though I hate defining fiction by genre – as mainstream. Thought it might free me up mentally, and it has. Thought I had no plot, plan or even character as such, and I didn’t, but within the space of 1000 words, I’ve put the MC in hospital, with a lycra-clad politician (he was a NaNo dare btw, not the sort of character I’d normally feel compelled to include), and a narrative of sorts emerging.

I’ve put a Write or Die progress bar (widget) in my sidebar because the official NaNo ones aren’t working as yet, so thanks to Dr Wicked for doing it! Good luck to everyone who’s doing NaNo too.

Running on Empty III

NANO excerpt III

George is sitting in his car down by the docks. He is fiddling with the tuning knob on the radio, but whichever way he twists it, the opera singer’s voice still crackles. He gives up and switches it off, opens the window and listens to the traffic going along the bypass on the opposite side of the docks. What if he didn’t go back? Ellen would be expecting him to. Usually after they’d argued she’d phone him on his mobile, but on this occasion he’d flung it at the wall and now it was flashing large letters that made no sense at all. He presses the speed dial number. The phone bleeps at him then the display goes black. He puts it back in his pocket then turns the key in the ignition and heads in the direction of the main road. He drives several metres before realizing he has no lights. Shit. In a panic, he flips the lever onto full beam which reveals a woman running along the pavement towards the traffic lights. As the lights turn red and he slows to stop, she bangs on the passenger window.

Minus 4

NANO Excerpt II

Outside the hoar frost ran the length of the washing line. Birds flitted from branch to branch and from fat ball to seeds to peanuts before flying across the garden and into the conifer tree. The weather forecast said it would be clear today and sunny but the freezing fog which had appeared last night hung about the garden mingling with the chimney smoke which drifted across the lawn. Orla unplugged the landline. She didn’t want to answer any calls apart from those that came through on her mobile. Anyone she wanted to talk to knew the number, it was only the outside world she was shutting out. It felt good.

© Diane Becker 2008

Running on Empty

This is a short unedited extract from my NANO novel Running on Empty.

Another blue tit landed on the hawthorn branch then hopped onto the bag of black sunflower seeds, nodding this way and that. The robin dropped out of the lilac onto the terracotta tray that held the mixed seed and the sound of a train’s whistle startled them both and they flew off. Somewhere up the road a neighbour pushed his hover mower, taking advantage of the dry day to cut his grass as short as possible before winter arrived. There had been hailstorms in Devon this week, six foot drifts of hail floating on floodwater. So much for global warming, she thought. Orla kissed her husband goodbye as he fastened his cycle helmet, adjusting it under his chin. He put on his neoprene gloves and fluorescent cycle jacket and wheeled his bike out through the front door. She finished mixing the flapjack and pressed it into the tin then shoved it in the oven. She licked the spoon and put it into the sink with the pan. It was four fifteen. She sat down at the computer whilst the cat sat on the chair next to her licking its tail. The tail seemed to have a life of its own which was, she thought, more than she had.

© Diane Becker 2008