Mid-Week Tease–“Mock Dates and Rocky Horror Props”

Mid Week Tease ButtonHere’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.

MismatchedIrregulars“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!!

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Mid-Week Tease–“Never Trust a Man in a Bow-tie”

Mid Week Tease ButtonHere’s the current opening of my in-process NaNo novel called Mismatched Irregulars and Seconds. It’s very rough first draft material so be kind.

Never trust a man in a bowtie. He’s always up to something.

One of my mother’s many quirky proverbs popped into my head like a genie released from a bottle. True or not, the bowtie in his thumbnail-sized bio picture grabbed my attention first. The crooked glasses and cheap suit came in a close second, enhanced even more by an antediluvian printer running low on red ink. I didn’t even register the guy’s face other than his skin was amphibian green.

I jotted down my notes under the section entitled “First Impressions—Thumbnail Photo” and moved on to Griffin Spalding’s bio:

I am a number-cruncher for a used car dealership.

A groan accompanied my head drop. Why had no one already fixed this? I mean really. Were there any two other professions to catapult a woman into zzzz-land than accounting and used car sales? How old was this guy? I flipped the page back to his summary stats:  Griffin Spalding, age 35, never married, 5’11”, 165 pounds, black-brown hair, greenish-brown eyes, average-sized Adam’s apple, large hands and feet, hairy chest, clean-shaven face.

What on earth…

“Who allowed you to run with those stats, Griffin?” I crossed off the references to his protrusions and phalanges, changed his eye color to hazel and his marital status to single. The hairy / hairless mentions received double strike-throughs. A vision formed in my head of Mr. Spalding on a date:

“Hey baby,” Griffin said, flashing a massive hairy paw adorned with a gawdy pinky ring. “ He winked and adjusted his bowtie before hitching his clown foot up onto the corner of the table. At that angle he presented a potpourri of eye level bulges, frayed seams, and a thin dress shirt barely veiling the pelt of dark chest hair beneath.

I shuddered. “No. No. No.”

I’m right where I want to be word-wise at a little over 11,000 words. More from this story in the weeks ahead!!

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

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