It’s november and that can mean only one thing. That’s right, NaNoWriMo is back! That’s National Novel Writing Month for the uninitiated where the object is to squeeze out 50,000 words worth of your first draft of that novel that is just dieing to get out of you in the space of thirty days.
Of course I’ve tried this two times before and have not been successful on either occasion, this time however I have a planned plot outline and tonight, now that I’ve started, it has been pouring out of me – 2083 words so far which is well past the daily 1667 target.
The working title for the novel is “Terminal Point” and concerns the adventures of a professional Black Hat who becomes intimately involved in something very very dangerous, for all of mankind.
I’m not going to be putting up the whole thing this time around – I think I might actually finish this one so expect to see it in the shops sometime soon ;-p I shall of course keep updating my progress here and pop up a couple of extracts.
The little waitress avatar had wandered off as Daniel scanned the denizens of the café again, a couple – one a man in a well rendered expensive looking suit, the other a woman appearing today as a Manga heroine complete with huge eyes, tiny nose and mouth and matching skirt – were sat across from each other apparently completely stationary, locked into privacy mode and betraying nothing to any other visitors to the site. A crowd of students were filling the tables along one wall engaged in a heated discussion in Japanese, avatars from the classic dishevelled and scarf look popular in the 1990s to a range of characters escaped from a Nintendo game. One of them, impossible to tell its sex, represented by a cartoonish turtle sporting the same University scarf as several of the others was ignoring the conversation and poking its stumpy little front arms rapidly into the space in front of it, working feverishly on the interface to the pod only it could see. For a moment it made eye contact with Daniel and his firewall registered a flood of connection requests which it automatically and quietly declined. “Virus.” he muttered.
“Pardon?” For the second time in as many minutes he was startled out of reverie by a female voice. He looked round and down towards the floor and blinked at a couple of gorgeously shaped legs which led up to an equally exquisite midriff followed by a cleavage for which the term plunging could have been coined, framed as this body was by an outfit somewhere between a business power suit skirt set and an advert for Playboy. As his gaze finally reached the face of this wet dream avatar the overall ensemble was not spoiled by the high cheek-boned contours framing a pair of child bearing lips and topped with a pulled back pony tail which would be severe but for the sculpted escaped lock bouncing in front of her left eye.
“The turtle is having problems.” Daniel gestured in its apparent direction and saw that the avatar was now glitching with bands of interference appearing across its skin, sending ugly spikes of colour out around the edges.