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Pashwari Naan and Dairylea – that’s right, Day Six

November 6, 2010

Oh yeah. Naan bread and dairylea lunchables. For dinner. You know you’re jealous.
Seriously, these fireworks. I feel like I’m in the Blitz or something. (I love fireworks, for the record. But when you’re writing and all you see is faint flashes of light and hear explosions…you know).

Actually when I was a kid, I was terrified of fireworks, and thunder storms. They’re two of my favourite things now. An awesome old lady who was waiting to have a hair cut at my grandma’s house once taught me a game. She said that she was scared of thunder storms when she was a little girl too, and the trick was to remember it was just the man in the clouds moving house.
It’s a really sweet idea, and we played a game where each thunderclap, we guessed what piece of furniture he’d accidentally dropped down the stairs. There were heavy thumps for chairs and chests, and the tinkling ones were cutlery falling from drawers.

Finally finished the grim, icky scene that makes the end of Part One of the NaNo novel, and ready to start on Part Two.
First needed to add in another short earlier on in Part One, which I didn’t do at the time because I was impatient – in which we see how magic is bad for your health (especially if your name is Nikolaus) and that Teresa can, in fact, kick some serious ass.

Extract One
He wasn’t letting someone else die on his watch, he just wasn’t. Because guilt was the worst demon of all, the most beautiful. It sat inside, curled comfortably around your rib cage, and gnawed and gnawed for years; you couldn’t even notice at first. It ate at everything precious to you, carefully, slowly, tasting each morsel delicately. And it was the most dangerous parasite because it was just so damn enjoyable – like misery and self-pity are enjoyable; you love to revel in them. To feel you were right, or to feel that you were wrong; to have that luxurious benefit of mourning over your life instead of living it. There was, Nick decided, already way too much of that shit in the world – and it stopped right now.

Extract Two
And what, Teresa thought, as she puffed down the hallway to the basement steps, the jiggery shit am I going to do with a fucking sword? Weapon training didn’t work like that – you couldn’t learn one and use another. Swords to her were unwieldy, even flimsy things – with nowhere near enough reach.

She snatched the two swords anyway, and bounded back up. After a moment of agonising indecision, she rushed up her attic stairs as well. Nick could hold out long enough – surely he was the pride of Bavaria for a reason. A nagging guilt told her that, really, it was because of a lifetime of being downtrodden by upper-class mages – she wanted to see Nick earn their class privileges. She pushed the thought away; it was too cruel. People could die trying to prove points like that.

Either way, she felt it was worth the risk to grab her own spear. Nick was a Kohler, a first class mage, and he got treated like a prince. He could hold a barrier for an extra minute or two until Paul fucking Daniels and his army of snooty family members mounted a daring, patronising rescue from the main house next-door.

Adrian was stood at the doorway to his room, mouth open. Teresa skidded to a halt.

“Used a sword before?”


“It’s your lucky day.”

7 Comments leave one →
  1. November 6, 2010 9:31 pm

    Wow, the undead just decided to crash the slumber-party? I’m as confused as dear Adrian. Your ability to describe things became immense this past year, btw. When did I miss the transition stage?

    Not so sure I liked your description of guilt. I’ve never thought of it as comfortable or beautiful before, nor as anything I like to revel in, but the part about it sitting on your ribcage and gnawing away was excellent.

    • November 6, 2010 9:50 pm

      No, no, the whole novel has always been about the undead – they’re training as demon hunters.

      Thank you~
      I still find description REALLY tough to write though.

      Yeah, I think maybe that’s more a personal thing…it’s the teenage thing of enjoying your own self-pity, having something to complain about. Some people like having a tragic past to endless chew over.
      So it’s…probably good if you don’t fall into that category.
      But Nick certainly does XD

      • November 8, 2010 10:23 am

        LoL Oh OK. I knew they were demon hunters but for some reason that didn’t class as ‘the undead’ in my head. *sticks tongue in bottom lip like a tard* I’ve no idea why.

        Well, you’re certainly soaring at it ^_^ Go, onee, go! Btw, I wants more Angelus and Caspian <3

        Heh, don't worry, I realise it's a personal thing. I just thought I'd thrust my opinion at you. I certainly get that there's a teenage stage of wanting to wallo over tragic past. I just remember feeling like shit for it more than anything else XD I didn't skip that phase, honest.
        Poor Nick.

        • November 9, 2010 4:50 pm

          I know what you mean – I usually wouldn’t link demons and undead.
          But the current demon they’re fighting? Way undead. Way, way undead.
          The word has lost all meaning…

          Yeah. This novel could be summed up by ‘poor Nick’.

  2. ninablues permalink
    November 6, 2010 11:54 pm

    *followed link from Willow’s site*

    I thought that your description of guilt was perfect. Just so you know.

    • November 7, 2010 6:26 pm

      Hi Nina!
      (It’s chex-fics from livejournal *waves* )

      Thanks so much!

      • ninablues permalink
        November 9, 2010 3:54 pm

        I suspected so. ;) Hey hey. Might pop back over here if I have the time in future.

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