mid-week tease

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Here are the “FAR” goals I established for this round of ROW80:

F-INISHING works in progress by adding >500 weekly new words, net.

A-DDING >1000 weekly new words to works with 10k words or less to them, and

R-EVISING two works for submission (converting one from adult to new adult and editing one based on feedback.) by tackling at least ONE chapter per week.

Here’s what I did so far this week:

FINISHING: Nothing. (weekly goal not met)

ADDING: Nothing. (weekly goal not met)

REVISING: Nothing. (weekly goal not met)

Well that was inspiring. Not. What did I do? I worked some long day job hours then crashed in front of the television set watching the Olympics. I’ll probably continue on this trajectory until they’re over. Hopefully I’ll come back re-charged with Olympic-level ferver!

In the meantime, so you don’t totally feel like you wasted a trip to my blog, here’s a weekly meme excerpting some of my work:

From my WIP, Three Dates, about a single mother (Lucy) employed by a matchmaking agency and tasked to handle the more difficult clients (Griffin, in this case). Lucy is the narrator.

“Let me walk you to the door,” I said jumping in to fill the chasm of awkwardness.

He stood too, and with one hand pressed lightly against the small of my back, he motioned with the other for me to lead the way. Out the kitchen and into the living room, we walked. My back missed the warmth of his hand. A ghost-like finger, icy but imagined, traversed the length of my spine. I couldn’t help but feel like I was throwing him out, which I wasn’t. The decision to leave had been his. He retrieved and pulled on his coat from where he’d hung it, taking his time to button every button, adjust the cuffs, the bottom hem. Finally arranged to his satisfaction, he unlocked and opened the door. At the threshold he paused, opened his mouth to say something, but shut it again. Instead he leaned down and kissed my cheek, a quick peck, nothing sexual or romantic. But he did it so sudden-like, he caught me by surprise. “Goodnight, Lucy.”

I gave him a smile I hoped was sisterly and not as discombobulated as I felt. “Goodnight. Drive safely. Thanks again.”

He nodded once, lips pressed into a grim and determined line, turn and walked toward the parking lot. I shut the door behind him. In the safe solitude of my apartment I pressed a hand to my cheek to check if it felt as hot to my hand as it did my body. How odd the whole evening had been.

Odd that he had insisted on coming over to return my coat—he didn’t have to do that—and in the late hours of the evening no less.

Odd that he stayed for coffee.

Odd that, for the first time, he expressed a date preference.

Odd, very, very odd, that he kissed my cheek. Why did he do that? I was being paid to do what I was doing for him, unlike his trip over to deliver my forgotten coat.

“Oh Griffin. What am I going to do with you?” I asked aloud. Nobody answered my question, but my heart gave an extra flutter.

If you want to read more mid-week teasers, head over to the host’s blog, Ms. Sandra Bunino to read her and others’ posts in the Linky List there.

Thanks to all my visitors and commenters. 🙂

Here’s a little banter between the two main characters, Lucy and Griffin in my in-process NaNo novel called Mismatched Irregulars and Seconds. It’s very rough first draft material so be kind.

“Listen,” I began. “I think we should go on a mock date.”

“A mock date?”

“Yes. You and me. Not a real date, not a romantic date, of course, but a training opportunity for you to get some behind the wheel experience without the crash and burn risk.”

He laughed. “Do you come with an air bag?”

A smile worked its way out. He could totally be salvaged and I was going to be the one to do it. “See? That’s kind of funny. You have the raw material, Griffin, you just need to learn to relax. Are you relaxed talking to me on the phone?”

“Yes. But you’re my coach. You’re safe.”

“All women are safe. Just imagine us in our underwear, you know like you do when you’re about to give a speech?”

“I’ve never given a speech.”

“Never? How can that be?”

I can hear his shrug through the phone. “Luck?”

“That might be part of the issue. You have performance anxiety.” I twisted the phone cord around my finger smiling, wondering if he’d take my slightly suggestive bait. Did he even have an innuendo radar?

“I might have a list of issues as long as your arm, but that’s not one of them.”

“Dating is a performance.”

“Dating is selling. It’s not the actual performance.”

“There won’t be any performing if you don’t sell any tickets.”

“Maybe I’m an underground cult phenomenon.” I detected a smile in his voice. Were we flirting? This was good if we were, if it was intentional on Griffin’s part, that is.

“You mean like the Rocky Horror Picture Show?” I freed my finger from the cord and rewrapped it.

“Yes, only without the props.”

That was definitely flirting. He had to be smiling. If he wasn’t smiling, I’d be worried. Maybe I’d ask him. Later.
“Do you like props, Griffin?” Ha! And she serves her kill shot!

“I have been known to engage a prop or two.”

Just passed the 50% mark (>25,000 words) for NaNo. Not sure how long this story will be but I’m shooting for around the 50k range so I hope to finish the first draft during NaNo. More from this story in the weeks ahead!!

If you want to read more mid-week teasers, click on any of the links below: