NanoJanet

Mini milestone 10k

2007-11-12T00:03:00.000-08:00

Week 1 went badly. That was the week the builders I contracted with in April of this year decided to start work. Demolishing and rebuilding a bathroom is noisy work, and there are so many things they want you to look at!

Plus the weather has turned cold and I need warmer clothes. Having been completely unsuccessful in my attempts to persuade HK to do a sweatshirt I spent a morning at the shops on Thursday. Unsuccessfully. I may have to resort to sewing.

The builders didn't arrive on Friday but it did give me the opportunity to try and reclaim some rooms out of the chaos. Functional now, but not perfect. The upshot is that by the end of the week I had barely made 3,000 words.

Friday and Saturday nights we had concerts. Friday night had two really terrible compositions that I shut out of my ears by developing a plot point. A sex scene actually, but it is still an important plot point! Saturday night the conductor was deaf and everything was way too loud, so I did the same thing.

Sunday there was no Scrabble, and with all these sex scenes, er... plot points, fresh in my head I set to work early. I had planned to make pancakes for breakfast but by the time my stomach was growling enough to get me away from the computer it was nearly lunchtime so I scrambled some eggs with leeks.

I planned soup for mid afternoon but then Paul made tea so it was only when he began begging me for food at around 6.30 that I dragged myself away from the computer with 9,000 odd words under my belt. After supper I sat down resolutely and went to 10k.

This brings my daily word count target to about 2084 if I remember correctly. I'd like to get that back down to 1667. Which means I need another productive day today. If I can do it before I have to leave for kookavond. And I need a nap if I'm going to be up that late.

I'm nearly finished the core of the story, the sordid details of which impacted through the centuries. I wonder if I can fit a couple more sex scenes in?

2007-10-17T23:00:00.000-07:00

Well, the T-shirt idea went down like a lead balloon. Perhaps I should spend more time planning my novelette and less time upsetting people on the forums.

There's a lot to do.

So far I have:
- information on Irish magic
- information on the history of Ireland dating back to the Tuatha de Danann
- information on 9th Century Ireland

None of these are detailed or comprehensive but should provide enough basis for creative license.

What I need is information on various points in history where there was great cultural conflict (something I seem to be good at right now). Looking at the list of dates and events my fellow novelists in the original project were going to use, I have:

- Medieval 1066-1067.
- 3rd crusade in the Holy Land 1190-1192
- St Bart's Massacre 1572
- American Colonial 1650
- Australian Colonial 1790-1800
- 1865
- Nazi Germany 1930-1940
- 2001

Except for St Bart's Massacre and Nazi Germany, there's not much that means anything to me. My previous requests to the novel group for some ideas on what they planned got hardly any responses :(

I guess that means today I must find a timeline of world history and pick out some important dates myself, probably around 200 years apart, and get some relevant information.

And then I can start outlining.

2007-10-16T23:23:00.001-07:00

HK did a really nice T-shirt two years ago, but ran into so many problems she's given them up. So this year she's doing Do Not Disturb signs for the door.

However, I had a look at the site of the guy printing it and guess what? He does T-shirts too. And sweatshirts (Yeah! I want a cuddly warm sweatshirt!) So I pinched her picture off her website, and despite being completely unable to draw, have designed a T-shirt/Sweatshirt around it.

So....will she take the bait?

2007-10-16T00:38:00.000-07:00

NaNoWriMo rolls around again. I signed into the website yesterday, browsed the forums, and wondered what on earth I could write about.

Last year's story is unfinished, and I could take any single storyline and turn it into a short novel.

But what I really want to do is finish Redemption, the book I made so much progress with in 2004. But never finished. And of course, since then the plotholes have turned the whole thing into a mesh net.

But... or should I say BUT ... the plotholes would make an entire novel in themselves.

So that's what I'll do. I'll write the backstory. Then after November I can use that novel to fix and finish Redemption. Maybe even before Christmas.

Now that would a fruitful way to spend NaNoWriMo!

Valentine, the audio book!

2006-11-14T06:31:00.000-08:00

Well, not quite. In the forums I saw a thread entitled Rich, Sexy voice in search of prose. That's kinda hard to ignore. It seems that The Far Smoother Podcast is podcasting NaNoWriMo, and has decided that book excerpts are the way to go .

Well, I'd only written 196 words and he wanted about 1667. No problem, I wrote some more and sent them to him.

The podcast appeared yesterday. You can listen to it here.

I think he's done a lovely job, and I doubt he even had a producer. Of course, when you have such a brilliantly sexy piece of prose to work with, how can you go wrong?

:D

I do audiobooks all the time, so it was interesting to hear his performance of MY book. The voices are quite distinctive, I think. His diction is clear. And yes, he does have a very sexy voice. I must send aspirant sexy voices to take lessons from him.

It was quite inspiring to listen to, though, so I upped my word count to just over 10,000. Christina said the voice made her downright horny, so that's her happy. Paul sat chuckling through it and agreed the guy does have a rich, sexy voice and wanted to know how soon I could publish so he could hear the rest.

I guess the e-book format could work well as an audiobook, if you had a decent mp3 player that will let you hop from one sequence to another of your choice. I'll think about it.

2006-11-06T00:23:00.000-08:00

Right, day six of NaNoWriMo and I've found the fun things to play with.
Oh, am I supposed to be writing?

NaNoWriMo 2006

2006-11-01T02:23:00.000-08:00

It here! And I'm giving up on Redemption for the moment. I'm going to pick up on an idea I had a few years ago, and write an e-book. I have 1885 or so words that set the scene, but I still have the seven main plots to write. At even 10,000 words each, that's more than Nano wants, though each should be Novella length I think.

So here's the setting:

"Quite the little heartbreaker, I see" said Douglas. His eyes mirrored, shielding his emotions.
"What on earth are you on about?" answered Maria, blood rising to her cheeks in irritation. And then she saw her desk. In fact, everyone in the office was looking at her desk.
"So who's the lucky man?"
"Douglas, you are quite awful. You know there's no one. Is this some kind of a joke or what."
She picked up the single long-stemmed red rose and detached the card, aware of eight pairs of eyes following her every movement. As carelessly as she could manage, she removed the card from the envelope and opened it. She studied the card a moment, and then, with her hand on her chest, read aloud.
"Roses are red, Violets are blue, I can no longer be happy
Without you.
Be my Valentine and meet me in the Champagne Bar at Clearcy's tonight at 8. You bring the Rose; I'll bring the Violets."
"Oh I say" said Douglas, "Quite the romantic. I wish I'd thought of that. Do you think it's too late to try it now?"
"Who's the wise guy?" The giggles died down as Maria glared at the girls around her. Seven innocent faces stared back, wide-eyed in admiration.
"Came by messenger", said Sandy, a little breathlessly. Blonde, blue-eyed, undoubtedly the office beauty, she seemed a little awe-struck. Plain old Maria attracting so much attention!
Maria moved on to the large box of chocolates. Well, someone certainly knew her weakness. Belgian hazelnut truffles, no less. And a card. She looked at it briefly, then read aloud, her hand over her heart.
"My dearest, my sweetest Maria, I adore you. It would be the happiest day of my life if you could meet me tonight at Blues at 8. Just tell Dennis you've arrived and he will escort you to your rightful place by my side."
"Double dated and it's only nine in the morning! Really, Maria, you should learn to organise your time a little better." Douglas was trying, and failing miserably, to be sneering. Goodness, he seems quite upset, thought Maria.
"It also came by messenger, but a different one" volunteered Sandy, even more breathlessly. She looked quite starstruck. Surely she had valentines of her own?
Maria moved on to the small, lacquered box. In it was a small key, and a note in exquisite calligraphy. "You hold the key to my heart. Unlock it tonight. Room 201 at the Garden Court." She looked at the key. It was quite exquisite, its head a work of art in elegant, ornamental filigree with a very clear motif that reminded her of nothing so much as stained glass window.
"Flowers for Miss Sandy Sandeman".
The messenger's arrival hardly quenched the frisson of excitement bubbling through the younger girls. Sandy signed for her flowers, which dwarfed her computer screen, but paled next to the single mysterious red rose on Maria's desk.
Maria jolted down into her seat and buried her face in her hands. "Can someone be a love and bring me a cuppa. I have to think about this."
Here she was, 27, single, and not what anyone would call God's gift to men. Unless their idea of the perfect woman was short, somewhat plump, with long dark hair drawn back into an unattractive ponytail. And she'd given up on contact lenses the first day she tried them.
Yet here she was with three Valentine's Day cards, ostensibly from three different people, all suggesting a date at the same time at a different place. It had to be a joke.
"Here you go Maria". It was Sandy with a cup of tea. Sandy, still wide-eyed and breathless. "Oh Maria, you must tell us. Who are they? You must know."
"Maybe I do, maybe I don't." Maria tried out her Mona Lisa smile."But actually, I don't. You have here, my dear, a true romantic mystery. Thank you for the tea."
Maria switched on her computer and logged in.
"So what are you going to do?" Douglas stopped by at her desk just before lunch. "Decided yet? Which of the three will it be?"
"Oh I don't know. What if I go and there's nobody there? I'd feel such a fool."
"And what if you don't go and there is somebody there, waiting for the Maria who never arrives. There's a poor fool if ever there was one. And no matter which one you choose, there will be two other fools, waiting and waiting." Douglas almost choked on the words.
"You're not one of them, are you Douglas? Or even all three maybe?" My goodness, what a thought. What a surprise. Could Douglas really be sweet on her?
But now it was Douglas' turn for the Mona Lisa smile. "No. But it is something I wish I'd thought of. I'll tell you what, though. If you're curious, and you want to take up an option, I'll go with you. If there's someone waiting, good on him, good on you. If not, you can pretend you were my date all along and we can have a drink, or a meal, or if you take the hotel option, go on somewhere else."
Maria stared at him. "And what if there is someone? What will you do then? Don't you have date for tonight? What happened to Wendy?"
Douglas flicked at some imaginary fluff off her desk. "We're..uh...still friends...sort of. But we're not dating. So I am at a bit of a loose end, and willing to be the gallant knight. Anything to help my star employee...If there is someone waiting, I'll just go on and catch a movie. I'm keen to see the new Spielberg, and tonight would be as good a night as any. Think about it. We all need a bit of adventure in our lives, why not take it with both hands? I'll come by at closing time and see how you feel."
The light in his eyes startled Maria. Was he looking back into his own past for adventure? Or was he looking forward into her future? She stared as he turned and walked away, his back poised and erect, his hips swinging gently, jauntily, sexily. Goodness. She's never noticed how he walked before, from the hip, his shoulders not moving except for effect. There was clearly more to Douglas than met the eye. It occurred to Maria that she knew very little about him, other than that he was her boss, and that he was not, as she originally thought, gay. Wendy was proof enough of that. Or was she?
The owner of the sandwich shop where she usually bought her lunch gave her a single, heart-shaped hazelnut truffle. Was this a hint? No, the sandwich shop owner was giving everyone chocolates, not just her. Still, it may be a cover. Or a sign. She scrutinised him carefully, just in case. He didn't seem to have a Valentine gleam in his eye, and she was sure he was married anyway. Swarthy and dark, he wasn't her type. Did she even know what her type was?
The dress stopped her in her tracks. She was sure it hadn't been in the window when she came to work that morning. Deep crimson, not a colour she usually wore, but it would make an eye-catching change from her trademark black. She was tempted to put her hand right though the window glass to touch the softly crushed velvet, it looked so inviting. And only £15. Who would have donated such a .... Valentine was the only word to describe it .... dress to Oxfam?
She went inside and tried it on. "Wow", said the salesgirl. "I've never seen that colour have such an effect on anyone before. It's like magic. Here, let me help you." She undid Maria's ponytail and swept her hair into a loosely arranged chignon pinned up with a silk rose. "All you need now is some makeup and you'll sweep him away, you will."
Maria looked at herself in the mirror and had to agree. The low cut bodice gave her a sensuous cleavage where before there had just been a shapeless sausage. The fabric skimmed her curves seductively. "I look almost like Liz Taylor in her heyday" she thought. "I'll take it", was what she said, "and the silk rose clip." The silk rose. Another sign?
As the salesgirl happily packed the dress carefully in tissue, Maria noticed the label for the first time."Stop a moment", she said and looked at it more closely. It had the same motif and number on it as the filigree of the key in the little lacquered box.
"Good luck" winked the salesgirl as she handed Maria the bag. Did she know something Maria didn't?
She had trouble concentrating that afternoon. Perhaps it was the loose chignon and silk rose that still decorated her hair. She booked a business client to Johannesburg via Dubai instead of to Miami via Johannesburg. She booked a honeymoon couple to Barcelona on separate days on separate flights. She didn't notice. Luckily Douglas did.
"So you've been in quite a tizz about this all afternoon, I notice. I can see you've decided what to wear though. Let's have a look at the dress. Oh, c'mon, you can't expect anyone to have missed the bag. Sandy's been eyeing it so ardently she may have learned to touch type at last. Bring it out and show us all."
The girls crowded round as Maria reached into the bag and withdrew the mound of tissue paper that enfolded the dress. "Wait!" She had a sudden inspiration. "Let me model it."
In the bathroom she delved into her handbag and found some powder and lipstick. Not much, and she didn't wear it often, but in combination with the dress, well...
"Ready everyone? Here I come!" And she catwalked out in time to her own rendition of the Pink Panther theme. The audible gasps stopped her.
"I see why you got all those Valentines, Maria." Sandy's voice trembled as spoke. "I never knew you had such a glamorous and romantic secret side to you."
Maria just winked at her. It was great to make an impression, even if it was just on her office colleagues. "Well, I'm all dressed up and ready to go. May as well stay that way. All I have to do now, is decide which option to take. But first, I have a couple of small problems to sort out, so.." She winced as thought of the Johannesbug to Miami flight.. "I'll be your mystery lady until tomorrow, when all will be revealed."
She settled down and changed the bookings. She double-checked them before logging out. Then she sat in her chair for a long, long moment and looked at the single red rose, the box of hazelnut truffles and the little lacquered box with its ornate filigree key.
"So what's it going to be, Maria?" Douglas' voice was as gentle as a mellow red wine.
"The rose, alone?
"The rose, with me?
"The truffles, alone?
"The truffles, with me?
"The key, alone?
"The key, with me?
"Or have you decided to play it safe, and not take any of the options?"

2006-09-14T04:09:00.000-07:00

Sigh. Sometimes I wonder whether I'll ever finish this book. Or even it's worth finishing. It has so many plot holes it's becoming a black hole.

I did set myself the goal of finishing it by the end of September, but I wonder if I can achieve that.

So far all I've done is look at the plot holes.

I researched Irish history, and managed to plug a gap there. The original story has characters who can trace their lineage to the Tuatha de Danann, a race of magical people who were conquered when their magic failed. Good. I can use that.

I researched Irish magic. Do you know that it comes from the bardic tradition, and that spells were sung? It is interesting that I have used a sung prediction in my book, but now how am I going to fit it in.

Greer has to hate Marq and her sister. That was where the story started, after all, and they can't suddenly be all civilised and companionable.

Plus my treatment of the Veiled Village is soooo dubious and unbelievable. So I researched leper colonies. It makes sense that the HIV colonies of the future will be regarded with the same revulsion and fear as the people in the past regarded lepers. That veil they wear has to have a purpose other than marking them out as people to be avoided. Yes, avoided.

And that of course would give a much clearer reason to have an underground medical movement working with the HIV positives.

Also, the story has to go backwards. I can't just jump back to the start and work forwards. Possibly with Greer I can, but Marq needs a story that takes him back through all his troubled lovelives (is that a valid word in Scrabble, do you think?) to uncover the cause of the whole damned miserable saga.

And Tanis? She doesn't need much of a story, although the whole thing did start with her. so she does need some.

It's back to the beginning really. And I can't help thinking that I should enjoy writing it as much as I hope people will enjoy reading it, though at the moment everything is very tedious. A book to put down. Often.

Let's see if I can save it.

2006-02-03T06:08:00.000-08:00

So I haven't written a word of my novel since my cat died on 18 November.
That kinda screwed up nano.

Today I felt the urge to get back to it. Probably because I have 1001 other things to do. It's just that I would like closure on this somehow. And I've been listening to some really nice fantasy books which I find very inspiring.

Unfortunately, when I look at Redemption, it looks like so much crap.

Do I really have the Raconteur in me or should I stick to making chow mein?

Chapter 1 needs a complete rewrite, nobody feels close enough to the heroine to care about her feelings.

I sort of wonder whether I shouldn't write the Celtic Curse first, the story that led to this one.

Sigh.

Grey days makes for grey thoughts, maybe.

For Hannah K, the Blurb.

2005-11-10T00:22:00.000-08:00

The Blurb is the stuff you see on the back cover when you pick up the book in the shop and wonder what it's all about.

Anybody want to buy this one?

AIDS has decimated the population of Earth. Fighting extinction, a new world order is in place, segregating the HIV positives from the negatives, and allowing only the negatives to breed.
Greer Powers has reached marriageable age. She is HIV negative, probably resistant, but the last thing she wants is babies. She wants a career in science, little knowing it is the modern day version of magic. And magic shadows her present, in the form of a curse dating right back to 9th Century Ireland when magic was strong and powerful.
Her mother has matched her with Marq Fort. But he has been bound to another soul that is not Greer. Her first meeting with him triggers her long-forgotten memories of a past life filled with evil. She is drawn to find his soul mate and fulfil her role in the curse. The ancient patterns begin repeating themselves. Can she make the right decisions this time around? And can she redeem herself in the process?
Redemption is a story of magic and medicine, of reincarnation and religion, of the constant struggle of good versus evil. And of Greer Powers, the witch who once walked hand in hand with Satan.

And yes, my wallpaper is my new "book in print" screenshot.

Breakthrough!

2005-11-10T00:08:00.000-08:00

It was a 4 am flash.

Every time I get to the Marq and Tanis backstories, I get a hiccup. I know who they are. I mostly know their motivations and what their karmic lessons are. But when I have to write, nothing works.

The problem is I don't have enough backstory! Everybody is wandering around a bit aimlessly. Greer and Arina are getting their flashbacks and that is mostly going smoothly, but Marq and Tanis only get one.

So, enter the cycle of life. I had to delve in the archives of the novel group to find the original anthology timeline. Crystal's original curse we all know about, and that is the only flashback we have. Marq and Tanis *need* flashbacks of other lives together, to make sense of the soul mate thing.

So what do I have to work with?

Crystal: Druid - 8th/9th Century
Kathie: Medieval - 1066-1067
Laurie: 3rd Crusade in Holy Land - 1190-1192 A.D.
Janine: 1300-1400
Christina: Paris, St. Bart's Massacre - 1572
Gina C: American Colonial - 1650
Gina B: Colonial Australia- 1790-1800
Jill: 1865
Elinor: Nazi Germany/USA 1930-1940
Sue: Contemporary - 2001
Janet: Science Fiction - 2150

Many of these people are no longer in the novel group, so I have no idea what sort of gruesome lives they dreamed up for their Romeo and Juliet couple. I found drafts and basic plot outlines for Kathie and Laurie, who meets who and how they die. Yuck. The first three stories the couple all die. I'm sure Elinor likes happy endings and her couple would have escaped Nazi Germany and built a new life in the USA. 1790 is very early for Colonial Australia, so I'm guessing an escaped convict and an aboriginal girl. Convict of course unfairly there, not the criminal type at all.

The other major insight was the reason for the original arranged marriage. There is no reason for arranged marriages in 9th Century Ireland, but it's crucial to the plot. But the penny dropped!

Mama arranged the marriages to ensure the growing magicality of the line. She matched up the daughters to husbands who would strengthen the powers inherent in the line. She knew all about this stuff long before Mendel did.

So that's easy then. Let me go finish the story.

At least I look famous!

2005-11-03T05:57:00.000-08:00

The new sneak preview author profiles are really cute!

It makes me feel like a real author. So much so, that I went off and researched a publisher, wrote a cover letter and even a blurb.

I think I will upload the blurb as the excerpt.

Of course, to get to the published stage requires some nanotime. So I have begunorganising chapters and have done editing on the first three sections. This is a bit slow. I need to do around three sections a day to meet the nano deadline, and there are some sections that have to be written entirely. Mostly at the end.

They should make nano a pretty tight finish!

NaNo? NoNo.

2005-11-01T00:52:00.000-08:00

Finishing Redemption just didn't happen.

So what happens now?

Well, I was just going to give up on NaNoWriMo and go it alone. That's what I told Terrifried.
But she said:

"Sounds like we're in the same boat, Janet! But in my case I have FOUR unfinished masterpieces (*not*) so it seems really daft to add yet another rush job to the pile.

I think you and I should change the NaNoWriMo rules slightly (I figure that after 3 straight years of keeping to the rules and winning, I'm entitled!). Shall we both aim to have one finished, ready-to-publish MS by November's end?"

Yeah, I'm up to that challenge.

Not entirely sure about ready-to-publish, but I'll certainly go for end of first edit. At least then I will have something looking like a book!

Then I trawled the forums looking for like minded souls. In the Rules and Regulations part, I found this question:

"My plan for this year was to continue the "novel" I started in 2003's NaNoWriMo. At 50,000 words, I had just gotten the two main characters in the story to meet.

My plans were just to pick up where I stopped - of course, starting my word count at zero, and just skimming through my notes of what I've already written. I created this whole outline of what I wanted to happen to these people, and I really didn't get there last time - I spent the time setting up the world, I guess."

So I am not alone. A NaNo moderator answered the post saying

"Everyone is welcome at NaNoWriMo. There are a lot of folks who write alongside of the 30 day novelists (I think we just call them participants). .. I think we all have lots of encouragement to give each other, whether the task is exactly the same, the goal is identical ... write like a fiend!"

Write. I mean, right. That settles it.

I've started a thread in the alumni lounge for like-minded souls. It's here.

Countdown to Nanowrimo

2005-10-20T00:14:00.000-07:00

Other people are counting down the days and hours. I'm counting down the words.

Which reminds me, have I told you how much I like this yWriter software? I'm already looking forward to doing my first edit.

Now that I've cut and pasted the bits of Redemption that I've actually written, I can print a little outline which shows me clearly what still needs to be written. I've moved some things that were in the wrong place into the right place, or at least a better place. And I have - gasp! - actually added around 500 words to the book!

He has just released an upgrade which has a target word count in, I guess to be nanowrimo friendly. Unfortunately, he hasn't put in the green bar, which is the real motivator. But that may still come.

The other point of interest is that he writes humorous science fiction, which gives me something new to read. I like humorous science fiction/ fantasy, which makes me wonder why I'm writing such a dark, gothic fantasy? But it's one of those things, the characters take over.

I already have my query letter planned. "It would be nice if I could tell you I have written a truly bizarre book. The fact is, the book has largely written itself."

Perhaps with this software, I can persuade the book to finish itself now.

The end ain't nigh

2005-10-12T23:53:00.000-07:00

Since receiving Chris Baty's kind invitation, I haven't written a word of Redemption. Though I have been trawling around the nanowrimo forums a little. What did I find? Free novel writing software.

Regretfully, this does not generate a complete novel automatically.

However, it does help you keep track of where your novel is, what parts need to be written, and apparently even has a timeline so you can track when things happened in the novel. As much of Redemption happened 900 or so years before the main story, I don't know how useful this will be for me. But if you're writing a murder mystery and solving it depends on who saw what when, that could be an entirely different kettle of fish.

Right now I'm transferring my existing manuscript into the program.

It looks like it will be a good tool for outlining the next book.

I'll keep you posted.

2005-10-07T00:19:00.000-07:00

"Dear Esteemed Wrimo," writes Chris Baty to me yesterday, "It's that time again. NaNoWriMo has officially opened for its seventh noveling season, and we'd love to have you back for another raucous and productive November."

Dear Chris, I haven't yet finished the novel I nanoed last year.

Hmm.

Then again, maybe November would be a good way to make some progress on Valentine. That's a great idea I had for an interactive novel. It would have to be an e-book to work, with links that take you down a different storyline depending on the decisions you make while reading.

Hmm.

Of course, today is only the 7th of October. And Redemption needs another 18,000 words or so.
If I could actually FINISH Redemption before the end of October, I'd be all geared up to do the madness again.

Can it be that hard? It's less than 1,000 words a day now.

Good pre-nano training too.

Hmm.

Let me give it a try.

200 words today, great scott!

2005-08-15T02:15:00.000-07:00

You know what? I want to finish this book now. So I'm a commitment to you, whoever reads this blog, to write for at least one hour every day.

Today I have over 200 words, and I had to spend a lot of my hour reading to find out what I've been doing in this story.

Here it is:

It was hìm. Marq felt himself go cold. Blue eyes, black hair, a dark coffee skin. He was leaning against a wall, just watching Marq. He exuded insolence. His eyes seemed to say "I've been sleeping with your wife and you don't even know it. And I can pleasure her in ways you can't begin to understand, just as she does me." Marq wanted to smash his face in. Bastard. He thought his own wife was immune to this ladykiller, and she wasn't. She'd had this man's bastard child too, a son, the son that should have been his own. Well, he wasn't going to let him get away with it. He would take him out right now, with his sword, and snap that smug gloaty head right off its womanizing body. He raced forward. The man raised one eyebrow. A little smile crooked the corner of his mouth. He straightened up and slowly ambled around the corner. Marq gave chase. He would not let him escape this time. But when he got to the corner, there was nobody there, no one walking away down the street. It was empty. Luìc. That's what he called himself. But Lucifer was more apt. Where he came from, nobody knew. Where he went, nobody knew. One thing everyone knew now, he left a trail of dark-skinned, blue-eyed children behind him, born to other men's wives. A raging mist filled Marq and blinded him. His heart beat fit to burst and a rush of white noise filled his ears. He struggled to breathe. He stood rigid, unmoving, fists clenched, until the darkness began to clear. He blinked. He was standing at a corner, looking down an empty street. Why? And he was gasping for breath. Slowly now, breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out. Calm down. Was that a panic attack of some kind? And what had caused it? Breathe in, breathe out. How long had he been standing here anyway? He looked around. The streets were deserted. Like a ghost town. Was he a ghost? Had he died? Had revenge been snatched from him by death? What revenge? Breathe in, breathe out. Was he going mad? He'd never had anything like this happen to him, until he met Greer. Did she have the power to drive men mad? He suddenly remembered the laughing, dark-haired girl who had jumped out of his tarot card. That was madness too, an even bigger madness. He hadn't even met Greer then. He couldn't shake off the feeling that she was behind it anyway.

Edit edit edit

2005-02-28T01:14:00.000-08:00

Well, I made so much writing progress during November's nanowrimo, I thought I should try and finish this book during March's nanoedmo.

That starts tomorrow.

Currently I have about 70,000 words written. I have to edit those up to about 90,000, including filling in the missing chapters. Still, that's what editing is for, isn't it?

I have done some editing since I last posted to this blog.

My new opening sentence:
"At this rate, we're going to have to sedate the girl and deliver her to the groom in a drugged stupor."

55555

2004-11-30T11:46:00.000-08:00

My official final wordcount for nanowrimo. The one that will be sealed with the site when it closes at midnight wherever in the world.

And my final excerpt for posterity, so far, is this one:

She thought about Marq. No, she couldn't love him. She could find nothing in him to love. He was good looking, sure, but he had nothing to offer her. Nothing in his soul that excited her. He was simply ...an arrangement. An arranged marriage. And a loveless one at that. Just like before. And he was cruel.
These thoughts startled her. Why did she think he was cruel? She shook herself back to reality, and concentrated on love.
The more she thought about it, the emptier her heart seemed. There was nobody. Nobody she did love, nobody she could love, and the lovelessness stretched into eternity. Did she even love herself?
She looked into her own blackness and decided she didn't. Not much to love there. It left a bad taste in her mouth, a taste of betrayal, and hatred, and revenge. Ugh.
She had to sit down. The shock of that blackness was too much for her. Whatever locked and blocked that heart of hers had long since smothered love and all its vestiges.

Also, on this last day, I'm a wrimo of the day. Along with someone else in the Netherlands, someone in Toronto with whom the Netherlands has wordcount and postcount wars, and we do a lot of crossposting, and someone in the Geezer thread where I've also been posting.

Hmmm. Looks like the coincidences and psychic phenomena in my novel are spreading into real life. And here I was thinking it wasn't autobiographical.

Winner?

2004-11-25T02:11:00.000-08:00

So I got my sticker. But the book's not finished yet. I will keep on writing, as soon as I've unscrambled my novel again.

It's not so bad. I did have a backup.

Well, she was confronting Satan now. Now, she could see him for what he was. So he possessed her, did he? This fiend who had so little use for her love? Oh he was too right. The bastard. She would show him how much he possessed her, all right. He was going out right now, bag and baggage, and he could be as charming as he liked, there was no coming back.
And now she knew exactly how to get rid of him.

I wonder how many of these excerpts will actually make it to the final draft?

Nearly there

2004-11-22T23:50:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was catching up day, and I think I mostly did, thanks to all the good writing karma from Christina, Lannie, Isiyanka, Dado HV et al. It was high quality karma, and lasted me right through 5,618 words. Current total 47,584.

This was too much for Ada, who stayed up all night to make sure she got to 50k before me. And made it! Hope she can sleep at work today.

At the moment I'm not writing in any kind of book order. I'm basically taking individual characters through a long train of thought. Oh, and I am making backups.

So what did I write yesterday in these 5,618 words? I won't give them all to you:

"And then what happened?"
"Nothing! She stood there, all the time we sang. Absolutely nothing happened."
"But I thought you said something did happen?" Arina shook her head. She didn't understand the story.
"Well, the fact that nothing happened is something! She should at least have sunk to her knees from all that power, but she just stood there. Even when they released her after the final amen, she was still ...standing."
"I think I begin to understand. Something should have happened, but didn't, and this is important?"
"You have it exactly!" Nancy clearly didn't understand how little sense she was making, nor did she pick up the sarcasm in Arina's statement. "Then Greer looked at them and said they should try again. She even kneeled. So they linked hands again and tried to touch her, but they couldn't get close."
"So still nothing happened?" Arina prompted.

40k and pausing

2004-11-22T02:10:00.000-08:00

Blogger ate my post yesterday. As I write them directly onto the Internet, this can be a problem, because I don't have an original I can cut and paste.

Of course, I have forgotten now what I wrote. But it was something about having a friend stay for the weekend so I wasn't doing much writing.

I am catching up today. I have already caught up the 300 words I was short on Thursday, when friend arrived. Now I've started on the 1850 I'm short for Friday.

So while I get back to that, here's something for you to think about. What would your reaction be if you suddenly discovered that your own daughter is the reincarnation of a truly evil witch that you yourself cast a curse on in a previous life?

Here's Arina's reaction:

Oh my. Oh my oh my oh my oh my.
No. This was no time to be polite. Oh fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!
Arina sat bolt upright in bed. She wanted to scream. But Dirk snored gently by her side, a gentle reminder to take control.
She slipped out of bed. Her feet fumbled for her slippers and she found a dressing gown to cover herself. Her mouth felt dry. Her stomach felt dry. Her whole body felt dry. In fact, she felt sick to her very core. Deeper than her very core.
Please God, let me die now.
Oh damnation, hell, damnation. Spawn of Satan. Demons rule OK.
Your betraying eyes will identify you forever. She had said that herself, watching those evil eyes turn from blue to grey to blue to grey. At the time she didn't know what made her say it, except she felt she needed a reminder through the ages.
One big reminder that was.
Her own daughter. Eyes that turned from blue to grey to blue to grey, depending on her mood.
Oh God, please let me die now.
She padded downstairs and switched on the lamp. The dim glow did little to warm her soul. She felt weak, shaky, nauseous. She wanted to spend the rest of her life vomiting. She wanted the rest of her life to be one minute long.
Your betraying eyes will identify you forever.And she hadn't made the connection. She herself had placed that curse, a little curse yes, but a curse nevertheless. And she hadn't mde the connection.
Her eyes fell upon the drinks cabinet. She walked across, found the brandy, found a goblet. She poured herself a generous measure, and glugged it. This was not a time for gracious, feminine sipping. She almost vomited as the neat spirit hit her dry stomach.
She poured herself another. This was not the best way to cope with a shock like this, she knew, but it was the only way open to her right now, and for now, it would have to do.
Sip. And think. She rubbed her forehead.

Sudden inspiration

2004-11-17T07:01:00.000-08:00

You know, something just dawned on me.

I'm writing a book about reincarnation, aren't I?

So at some point, I have to tell the reader about all the past lives that are involved. Otherwise the story will never resolve.

That will certainly add a lot to my existing 36,050 words!

The only thing here is I have to find out something about pre-Viking Ireland. And Celtic magic. This is where all those past lives happened.

Time to email my mother-in-law, I think.

"You wanted to know how the Priests do healing now. You said yourself you were sure that it was not just the laying of hands."
Now it was Greer's turn to nod.
"Faith is a great healer, yes, but it's not the only healer. And throughout time, since the Church was founded, we have provided schools and hospitals for our own. Throughout history, in times of war, we have taken pains to preserve sacred books. When the Troubles began, we took pains to preserve medical and scientific texts. Priests downloaded entire websites and burned them to compact discs, printed them out, and hid them along with the computers needed to read the discs."

Week Two blahs

2004-11-15T23:43:00.000-08:00

Chris Baty warned us about the week 2 blahs. Our regional Municipal Liaison sent an encouraging email to get us through them. Me, being late for everything as usual, was late for the week 2 blahs. I got them yesterday.

In two hours I managed to write about 267 words. And it was crap. Pathetic stuff. Repetitious and boring. My internal editor had somehow woken up.

I went back to bed. I had lunch. I hopped around the forums. No inspiration anywhere.
I did the laundry. I cleared the dishwasher. I went shopping for vegetables for supper.

An MC has already had a sandwich. I have named characters and places after people in the regional forum. Finally I did what worked last time. I jumped now to the end of the middle, and wrote that. I know how the book is supposed to end. I'm just stuck on how to get there.

It worked. As soon as I began the confrontation with Satan, the middle became clear.
Suddenly I knew what I had to do.

So I managed another 2,000 words. And being sleepless in Fagotstreet last night, I decided to put the time to good use and added another 850 or so.

That puts me now at 34,037. I can certainly reach 35,000 today. Maybe, if the muse pleases and Jonathan sends me more good writing karma, I can reach the 3/4 mark.

Greer listened.
"All his bastards."
And that odd look the maid had given her when she said "Count Luce has already gone, my lady."
It all made sense, now.
He didn't love her. She was just another notch in his belt. He had already gone because someone else was after his head. Someone else with a blue eyed, dark skinned baby.
The bastard! He had deceived her! He had ruined her life, and for what? For years she had been carrying hatred and revenge in her heart, souring life after life, because of him. He was destroyer of souls. Why?
Luce. Listen to the name. Luce.
Lucifer.
Of course. Just like Gaetan Dugas. Saetan Dugas.

27039 and more to come

2004-11-11T06:48:00.000-08:00

I wrote 301 words yesterday. But at least I wrote some. There were just too many other things to do. Now I have to go and sew a ballgown, but I have done some catching up.

Firstly, I took time to go back and read what I've done so far, because I lost the plot. At least the thread of it that was in my head. As I did so, I saved all the sections into separate files and created a master document. This seems like an incredible waste of time, but it had a productive end result. I was able to pick up the pieces and carry on writing.

I've been writing out of sequence, mainly because I just didn't know how to start the beginning of the middle, so I followed a sub-plot for a while. Today's exercise got me back to the beginning of the middle, and I wrote my favourite piece so far:

Greer wanted to repeat the triangle she had made before, to pull Marq and the soul mate together.

She sat down and straightened her spine. She began breathing through her crown. But when she tried to bring the silver cord into focus, the hatred just welled up inside her. It was no good. That hatred would send both T and Marq running.

She pulled back and cut off the link. This was no good. If she couldn't conquer this hatred somehow, she wouldn't be able to communicate with them at all.

What had the lightworker said? Meditate on green light, as a start. And find someone to love. Who would have thought it could be so hard?

How did one meditate anyway? Weren't you supposed to sit on the floor with your legs crossed in an anatomically impossible position, turn your fingers into circles and chant? That didn't sound like her cup of tea at all.

She brought an image of the light workers heart chakra into her mind. The clear deep green colour of the unfolding blossom. It was strange that these chakras had petals, but she could see them quite clearly.

She couldn't see her own chakra. She tried. She looked in the mirror, but just saw a body. She looked at her physical body, but couldn't see her own light.

She tried visualising the chakra instead. Tried to get an image of the blackness. How open was it? She settled for the same image as Carst's chakra. She tried colouring it black. OK, that worked. Now what? She tried draining the blackness out, but where would it go? If it drained out, it would drain into her other chakras. That wouldn't do.

She tried seeping it out the sides, but then it seeped into her aura and made her whole aura black, the way white clothes got soiled when you washed them with something black that wasn't colourfast. That wouldn't do either.

She pulled all the blackness towards the centre again, so it wouldn't contaminate anything else. How was she going to remove that dark evil that was tainting her very soul? What could she do?

Then she visualised green light coming down the centre channel. It came through the upper chakras cleanly, leaving no trace of its colour, and settled in her heart. The black acquired a greenish hue.

Ah, she said out loud. And breathed out blackness.

That wasn't what she meant, but she observed it with interest. She had meant to say, Ah, that's how you do it.

But now she saw her solution. She had a mouth.

She sat in her chair and straightened her spine. She put her feet on the floor, side by side, slightly apart. She rested her hands on her knees, open. She breathed in white light through the crown of her head and saw it flowing down her spine, through the chakras, aligning them nicely. She centred herself. She felt calm.

Then she breathed in green light through the crown of her head. She felt it touch each chakra in turn as it came down the path, then settled it in her heart. She breathed as much of that light in as she could, filling herself completely until her lungs were fit to burst, and then breathed out the blackness through her mouth.

She visualised her chakra now, becoming greener all the while. She concentrated. She thought about nothing except breathing in green through her crown, breathing out black through her mouth. Green in through the crown, black out through the mouth. Green in, black out. It became automatic, green in, black out, her attention entirely on her breathing.

She saw the child again. That child was part of the blackness she was breathing out. That child was the source of the evil within her. Oh how she loved that child! She could feel her black heart ache. But it was not a universal, selfless love. It was a selfish love, a love that turned her heart black. Green in, black out. Green in, black out. Not love at all, really, she could see that now.

Green in, black out.

Where did that love come from, she wondered?

Green in, black out.

She saw him. He was beautiful. A man with blue eyes that danced and flashed. He smiled at her, a smooth, dark, dark skin, a wide mouth revealing perfect teeth, sparkling white. He was tall, his body was well-formed with toned muscles, though not rippling power.

She trembled. She loved this man. She wanted this man. She wanted him badly. Every cell in her body screamed for him. It was all she could do to concentrate.

Green in, black out.

He reached out and touched her. She could see the desire in his eyes, she was the most beautiful woman in the world and only she could give him what he needed most. She could feel his hot breath on her skin, the touch of his lips against hers as his hand traced the outline of her spine, following the line of the chakras, following the rhythm of her breathing.

Black in, green out.

She moaned in quiet ecstasy. Yes. Yes. This is what she wanted, this is what she had been waiting for all these years. His touch, his love, it would change everything.

Black in, green out.

One week and 20080 words down.

2004-11-08T01:22:00.000-08:00

Wow. This book of mine is making progress. And I'm having such fun. I've invented a new religion. The AIDS cure is on track. Greer has met her sister Nissie, but doesn't yet know her real name is Tanis - the T of the soul mate's name. I'm sure you've all worked that out by now though.

The Dutch word for cat breeder is poezenfokker. This is a word you can use in polite society. However, the word for well-bred is welgemanierd, and not mooi opgefok.

Having learned this, one of my fellow writers has challenged us to include a poezenfokker in our stories, using any sense of the word we like.

Today's excerpt:

"I thought you might ask." Greer handed over a wedding photo.
Nissie studied it with interest. Then she signed. "It's hard to say. Humans are so interbred you can't predict what the children will look like. And the photo is a little small. You do look more like your mother, but you're picking up some of your Dad's colouring. I must say, I do look more like your mother in terms of colouring. Only a DNA test could prove anything though, and they're hard to come by now."
"You're interested in science?" Greer's interest was tickled. That was more than coincidence, surely?
"Genetics mostly, not science generally. I breed cats. I try and predict how the kittens will turn out based on the colourings and traits of the parents. We need cats on the farm, I'm trying to breed good mousers. But the physical looks are interesting too. I copied Mendel's experiments with peas, and have tried other plant experiments too. It's fun, and productive. We're getting good yields now. But I think animal genetics is where my heart lies, and where I'll make my career path."
Ouch.

Wordcount 13569

2004-11-05T20:03:00.000-08:00

The house is a mess. Flylady wouldn't be proud of me. My hotspots are on fire. My sink isn't shiny. My laundry is getting wrinkled in the dryer - the laundry that made it to the washing machine, that is. Never mind the overflowing washbasket. The ironing board is piled high. The spiders have taken over the corners of the house again. I can't even find the broom to sweep. Mind you, I didn't look very hard.

I've managed to make the bed and load the dishwasher. There is food in the fridge. But I can't for the life of me think what happened to all that chocolate I bought on special, "2 stuk naar keuze 99c" of which I bought a good deal more than 2 stuk.

It doesn't matter. I've added 7,500 words to my novel in just two days.

Today's excerpt:

There had to be a simple, rational explanation for being able to reach out and touch someone in that way, to find out if they were real, alive and present.
It had been a very simple communication, granted. Probably like the very first telephone call. In fact, probably earlier than that. Alexander Graham Bell had been trying to build a telegraph line that would transmit multiple messages at the same time when he realised that you could transmit sound.
How could she build on that simple communication to talk to T, without wires, without even knowing her wireless telephone number or whatever you wanted to call it.
Had T heard her? Had Mark heard her? Well, heard was not the right word, really. Felt was more like it. She had definitely felt them. Not as distinctly as if they were in the same room, granted.
Or was she just developing an over-active imagination?
There was an easy way to find out.
She called Mark.
"Hi Mark." Suddenly she felt foolish. How was she going to explain this. It made a lot of sense to her, but it would certainly sound like gibberish to him.
"Hello Greer." He did have a lovely, mellow, telephone voice. His tones stroked her silkily with a taste of chocolate and honey. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Hi Mark."
"Yes?"
"This is Greer."
"Yes, hello Greer." His tone was less silky now. He sounded a bit irritated, or was it bewildered? She didn't blame him.
"I had an idea, but it sounds too silly now that I have you on the phone."
"Yes?"
"Do you think people can talk without telephones? Not face to face, but over a distance. A long distance."
A long, long silence stretched between them.
"Mark, are you still there?"
"Yes, I'm still here."
"If I talked to you without a telephone, like now, would you hear me?"
"I already did. Is that why you phoned?"
"What did you hear?"
Another long silence.
"Mark?"
"I'm here."
"What did you hear? Please tell me."
A pause, and then he continued. "It wasn't so much hearing. It was more like a feeling. And she was there too, wasn't she? You've found her, haven't you?"
"Not exactly. But I'm working on it. I need time."
"Yes. You need time." His voice sounded very flat, as though he was trying to keep it under control. All the silkiness and chocolate and honey was gone now. "I'll see what I can do."
"Umm..."Greer hesitated.
"Yes?"
"Do you remember exactly when I spoke to you?" She had to be sure that his imagination wasn't overactive too.
"It was yesterday sometime. I didn't make a note of the time, I was... distracted."
Yes! It had worked!
"OK. Thanks Mark. Bye."
She hung up.

Up to 6171 words

2004-11-04T05:26:00.000-08:00

Lost pace yesterday. That comes of going out. Shopping. Concerts. They all take their toll out of writing time.

Yesterday's excerpt:

Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap. Tanis was feeding the chickens when she felt it. A little knock on her soul.

She listened. She pulled into herself to find out where it was coming from.

The chickens stopped their clucking and scratching and watched her, dead quiet, as though in a spell of stillness.

Tanis listened. Someone was trying to contact her. That was clear. But who? And why? It made no sense.

She looked around. Nobody nearby. Not on the farm, then. It did feel quite far away. But wait. She relaxed into the feeling, to strengthen it. There was more than one. And the second... She breathed a deep sigh. A feeling of such longing and such desire filled her soul. She stood silently, among the super naturally quiet chickens, just bonding, just feeling, caught up in a wave of love that engulfed her.

The feeling slipped away, slowly, carefully. The chickens erupted around her. She scattered the last of the broken bread, then left the coop, carefully closing the gate behind her.

Only then did she cross herself and fall onto her knees. She felt such a sense of loss when the tap left. Dear God, what had just happened to her? Was that an angel talking? Or was it the worst temptation of all? No, she thought, with that love and that longing it must be the touch of Christ. It had changed her, though. She felt unsettled. Her safe known world was suddenly shaken. She struggled to control the unreasonable panic rising in her.

What did Christ want of her? She did the only thing she knew. She went into the house and opened her Holy Bible, randomly, praying for guidance.

The words burned on the page in front of her.

"Thus a married woman is by law bound to her husband while he lives, and when her husband dies, she is freed from the marriage law." Romans 7. Verse 2.

A chill shivered through her body, raising goosebumps. What could this mean? She wasn't married. She couldn't marry. If it weren't for the healing hands of the priests and Christ's eternal love for her, she would be long dead.

And yet she suddenly felt bound in marriage. To Christ? To someone dead?

She wrote out the text carefully, in an ancient calligraphic script, treating the words of God with the respect they deserved. But she drew the initial T, large and ornate, with flowers and birds decorating the square which held it.

T.

That mysterious tap had called her T.

Tuesday - 4448 words total

2004-11-03T01:12:00.000-08:00

To be honest, I feel a bit left behind. It seems others are shooting ahead in the race to reach 50,000. At least three people in the Dutch forum have over 10,000 already. One of them says she has to start with a fizz, because she fizzles out as the month progresses.

We'll see.

I seem to be writing at the same pace as one Rachel from Toronto.

We had a postcount war before the start of Nanowrimo. Toronto won. Now we're having a wordcount war. And one or two personal wars, I think. It's all motivational. Seeing her ease ahead of me yesterday did send me back to my keyboard.

So what did I write yesterday? Here's another excerpt.

And what did Greer mean she said that the five cups were a coincidence. Upside down too. She pulled.

Mark's face came into focus. And then, a laughing girl, with black hair and sparkling brown eyes. She knew that girl, but who was she? Mark ran up to the girl, embraced her, kissed her. He was younger now, much the same age as the girl, but still him. Golden hair, blue eyed, but still Mark. Or was it Maddoc?

And then they were both older. Mark as he was now. A girl who looked like ... Greer. But not quite Greer. They were embracing as a silver cord wrapped around them. A great happiness settled over the image. Reunion.

She looked back at the Skeleton and pulled.

She saw an old crone. Evil rose from every pore of her body. She too looked like Greer, but not quite Greer. An old Greer, bent by sorrow and ... Revenge? She saw herself, tying a silver cord around the Greer crone and the young not-quite Greer and Mark.

And then the Greer crone began straightening her bent back. Her nose unhooked. She straightened up. The years fell from her face. She became younger and younger and younger. And then she was Greer, and the three of them, the Greer, the not quite Greer and Mark were standing there, still bound in the silver cord.

And then the newly-young Greer freed one hand from the cord. She pulled at it, but it would not loosen. She freed her other hand, and pulled more, but the cord became tighter and tighter. The three were locked together.

Greer looked at the couple bound in with her. She put a hand on each of them, and then kissed them. The cord dissolved,

"Arina, are you alright?" Dirk's voice cut through her concentration. "You seemed to be glowing! Almost on fire!"

Wordcount yesterday: 2200

2004-11-02T01:30:00.000-08:00

The first Nanoday got off to a slow start. I only started writing at eleven. My first sentence was:

The five of cups. And it was upside down.

This is not the first sentence of my book, by the way, it is the first sentence of what I am writing during Nanowrimo. I am not starting Nanowrimo at the beginning of my book, mainly because I'm using Nanowrimo to finish a book once and for all. Though I would have to write a good 80 000 words to finish it. 50 000 will be a good goal for a month, and I'm hoping to acquire the discipline of writing every day by doing this thing.

So, the first sentence of the book, for those who are curious, is

Greer had been weeping for days.

I've joined my regional forum, which is Continental Europe: Holland and Belgium, a very lively forum. We've all been posting our first sentence and excerpts, and I've been having some fun trying to guess the genre from the first sentence or even the excerpt.

So my excerpt from yesterday's words:

She looked at her notebook. She had written down the cards and their sequence from her own failed reading. She studied them intently.

The question: The skeleton. The card of death, Madame Zaza had said. It had certainly looked like death. But her question hadn't been about death, it had been about Mark's soulmate. Was the soulmate dead, in fact? Her heart sank. Suddenly she felt very, very cold. And then just as suddenly, she felt certain that Mark's soulmate was very much alive.

"Tea, Greer?" It was her mother, smiling, holding a tray.
T. The soulmate was alive and her name began with T. Greer was sure of it. The thought held her too long for her to realise her notebook was still open.

Untitled NaNoWriMo Fantasy

2004-10-25T19:46:00.000-07:00

Next month I'm writing a book. A whole book. In one month.

Yes, I'm one of the utterly insane 40,000+ people who've joined up for NaNoWriMo, a (inter)National Novel Writing Month.

I've started four books and never finished any. You know what it is. Laundry. Cooking. Shopping. Blogging. Everything gets in the way.

But as from now, I'm a serious novelist.

I have my notebook.

I have my plot.

I have characters.

What I'm writing is a fantasy novel set in the post-AIDS apocalypse. There aren't too many people left and the world needs repopulating, so women have no career choice but motherhood. Marriages are arranged between HIV negative people.

The heroine has different ideas. She wants to be a scientist. And her chosen husband is not really interested in her, he's yearning for a soulmate some fortune teller told him about.

What she doesn't know is the soulmate thing is all her fault. She cast a curse of love on them way back in the mists of time. She also doesn't know she has a countercurse on herself, to bring the lovers together in every life.

By now you've probably worked out the soulmate is HIV positive, and not allowed to marry and have kids.

So what the heroine has to do is find the soulmate, cure AIDS, and undo the curse. Just as soon as she remembers about all that past life stuff.

I just gotta put it all together. Starting November 1.