Good Wayne

Tuesday, November 23, 2004

NaNo Word Count: 27,938

I'm disappointed that I won't make it. At this point I'd have to crank out 2,758 words a day, each day, simply to catch 50k. It won't happen. I can't seem to crank out more than 2,000 words in a day and I have Thanksgiving coming up.

I'm still going to plod on with my crappy little novel, but it's somehow going to be less fun without that deadline. I'm do want to finish what I've started and if I stop I'm very likely to never finish. I have to work against that; my natural tendency to think I'm going to come back to it and then never do. I somehow convince myself that "in just another day or so" I'll get it done.

On the actual story front, I've run into another one of those stalling techinques I seem to be so subconsciously prone to. The characters are at a point where a slightly large revelation is to be had and I find myself unable to write it. I keep throwing up roadblocks. First the Blue falls asleep and then we have a dream sequence (it's very tenuously connected to the plot - kind of like you have to squint-in-a-certain-light to see it). Then upon waking, I realize that Dizzy has had plenty of time to decode this and that and there really should be some information at this point. So I start giving it out, and then —Wham-O!— Blue needs coffee to continue.

WTF?

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Working Title: Sethkyne_Blue
Number of Days: 2
Dream Sequence: 1
Talking Watches: 3

Week 4's Crappy Novel Excerpt:

"Okay, just because it dosen’t make sense to us here, doesn’t mean it wrong."

"Oh yeah," Dizzy says, pulling back. "There’s probably millions of things this could be use to run. The lights at city hall or flush toliets in China."

"Hmm," I say.

"But," Dizzy says, pulling a finger up to shush me. "People don’t break into homes to upload code to run the government lighting."

I stop. "Right. But ti doesn’t automatically mean it’s evil, does it? It could be some reasearch code for all we know."

Dizzy looks at me, "Men do not commit murder to test R and D work, Blue. There’s something very wrong going on here."

I have to agree, but my mind is still fuzzy. A few hours on Dizzy’s couch doesn’t actually qualify as rested.

"Do you have any coffee?"

"Duh," he says and Dizzy moves off to the kitchen.

It takes Dizzy about fifteen minutes to make some coffee. Which is fine with me, Dizzy has access to some real Arabian blends. Not much, but he makes ti for me and I know it’s because he wants to do little things to impress me. I try not to let on too much, but the coffee is one thing that does get to me. I love the smell of real coffee. Imitation coffee is close, real close – some people really can’t tell the difference – but it’s not exactly right.

I take in deep breaths of it, without being too obvious. I see Dizzy crack a half smile getting down some mugs and I realize I fail miserably.

He puts the mugs on the counter that bisects the kitchen and the small table and chairs that make up a dining area. The whole room is only about ten feet wide. He pulls out the coffee pot from the brew housing and pours it into the cups, the scent gets more powerful very quickly.

I walk over and sit at the table. It’s clean and Dizzy even has two placemats set down. The whole kitchen is clean.

Dizzy brings the coffee around and puts down one in front of me and the other oppostie me
where he sits in the chair.

"Thank you," I say and my hands encircle the mug and bring it up to my face. I close my eyes and take a deep breath of the deep Arabian scent. Oh it’s like heaven and I savor it for a few seconds. I don’t really care to pretend that I don’t know Dizzy knows how much I love coffee.

I open my eyes and he’s looking at me with a dumb smirk on his face. It is no serious, I know.

Wordlessly, I put the mug to my lips and gently drag the first few, hot sips into my mouth where I let them linger on my tounge before swollowing it.

Yes, it’s almost as sexual as that.

"Do you think the code could be," Dizzy starts, but I stop him.

"Ah ah," I say quickly. "I’m going to enjoy this cup of coffee before thinking another damn thing about what’s been going on."

Dizzy’s eyebrows go up, "Okay."

I close my eyes and repeat the same ritual.

"You guys made coffee and weren’t going to tell me?" Taxi’s voice almost breaks it is so horse.

I open my eyes and she’s standing behind Dizzy, her hair messed to one side. She’s wearing a tee shirt that she obvoiusly found on the floor in there. But that’s it, although she’s got her underwear on.

"There’s plenty," Dizzy says getting up. "I’ll get it for you."

"Okay," she says, "But I got to take a piss beforehand."

Dizzy walks the three steps to the kitchen and Taxi scampers the four steps to the bathroom. Her white legs and bear feet – her cute ass clothed in some purple underwear.

I take another sip from the coffee and think about her ass.

It’s quite at the table.

I can make out the hum of the computer equiptment and then Taxi taking a piss the water chinking.

Dizzy comes around and puts a fresh mug on the table on the end, pulls up antoehr chair and sits down.

"I have some eggs. Not real ones, but it’s food."

"Yeah, I could eat," I say.

There’s a flush of water and I can hear a sink running.

"I’ll make up a big batch of scambled. It’s the only way to eat these things," Dizzy jokes and then stands up, headed for the kitchen.."

[Excerpt Has Not Been Proofed or Edited]

posted by Evil Wayne | 11:54 AM

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