NaNoWriMo has offcially begun and I have my first words on the page. Depsite struggling with what has to be the worst cold I have had in a long time, along with some horrible razer burn (I am clean shaven, in support of MOvember), I stayed up for the midnight kick-off and got 2,021 words done before I went to bed. My writing has been a tad slower today, but I have continued to make progress. My current word count is 5,277, which is just over three days quota of writing. I am hoping to build a really big buffer this week (maybe 15-20,000 words) so that it will take the pressure off as the month goes along.
For those lucky few that read this blog, here is an excerpt from the novel-in-progress. Please refrain from providing feedback that will crush my spirit – November is about first drafts and word counts, not perfect grammar, plotting or the like.
“He is right new to the City,” one of the policemen said. “Can’t even smell it.”
Smell what? Beyond the reek of the open sewers and the thick smoke of the great factories and the sick sweet smell of too many sweaty bodies, Tup couldn’t smell a thing.
Inspector Crox nudged the bundle of rags with his cane and it rolled over. Green-grey arms flopped out and Tup could now see the broad face and narrow nose of a glom staring up at him. His eyes were open, but lifeless like that of a fish that had been gutted and thrown into a basket. Tup gasped and took a step back. The policemen laughed, this time not trying to hide it. Inspector Crox didn’t laugh, he just watched Tup’s expression.
Inspector Crox peered down at him. “Do you know who I am?” Tup nodded. “You have heard these gentle officer’s of the law use my name?”
“Yes, sir. Mr Inspector, I mean.”
“Very good. I know who you are too, Mr Brewster. Slowfoot Cross is no place for good people to be making business.” He paused, as if to ensure Tup was taking it all in. He needn’t have. “I would suggest you make your way to the barrack house double time and find yourself some reputable work in the service of the city.” Tup nodded. “And should I find you skulking about the scene of a murder in the future, I will let these officers clap you in chains and toss you in the Vagries. Now go.”
Tup didn’t need asking twice and he ran down the alley toward the market as fast as he could. Behind him he could hear the policemen laughing again. This time there was another voice amongst them, a thin cackle that must have been the Inspectors.