Day Eighteen #nanowrimo

day18Words for the day: 2300 (target was 2K)
T-shirt: Galifrey (though I’m still in PJs here)
Best music vibe: “Almost With You”

There is something to be said for the almost loss of momentum in passing 50K. I know I have an entire novel still to write – well another third to write, there is no time for bunking off, yet I feel the creep of fatigue. I think I need something really exciting to happen.

This morning I woke up knowing what I was going to write. It was the only thing that got my past the apathy creep, into the chair and writing. I’ve found once I make the first 1K for the day, the rest is generally easier. Makes sense I guess. Takes time to warm up.

I know there is a mess left behind and I know how to structurally fix it. The problem is it will take time and it won’t necessarily bring forth new words initially.

But for today I got Tabitha and Christian back together and there was something almost bittersweet in it. Obviously I need them back together so I can tear them apart. Again! Playing the original short story sound track dragged up a bunch of stuff I didn’t really want to sit with on a Monday morning, but I did it. And I got the words. And Christian and Tabitha are back together. For now.

There’s 22K left to write. I’m about at the point of no return where it’s going to go to shit really quickly and really badly. I guess I can enjoy this little quiet before the big storm.

To tease, I won’t give you a glimpse into their make up, as there are spoilers. Instead, let me introduce you to Velveteen.

* * *

The darkness seemed a lighter shade of grey after Christian was gone. Even the world beyond the windows didn’t pulse with the same intoxicating intensity. In the static she thought she could make out images: a rabbit dashing through long grass; lovers entwined; the slow moving hand of a clock; long tresses of hair swirling in an autumn wind; sand draining backward through an hourglass.

She closed the curtains and wound the mechanical guitarist, dropped more coal into the grate and stoked the fire. Only then did she wind the rabbit beside the typewriter. The small eye lit up and he sat up.

“What shall I call you?”

She tried to remember the name of the Velveteen Rabbit. Or was he just Velveteen? Velveteen had been one of Transvision Vamps albums, but like the book, she couldn’t even remember now if any of her favourite songs were on that album.

“Velveteen, then.” The perfect name for a patchwork rabbit, albeit a metal one.

She put Velveteen down on the abandoned pages of her novel, replacing the paperweight. When the mechanism wound down she counter-wound it and watched the way its tiny nose twitched. Inquisitive.

If Christian could make that, he could make some big-arse arm to haul a room out of time. She believed in him. In believing in him she no longer had to doubt herself. Doubt him. And the pain numbed, but didn’t leave.

The sound of the carriage roller warmed the places of her heart that had fallen cold in the absence of story. She didn’t need to read back over the last pages to know where her story left off. When she lost faith, her characters had lost faith and the story came to a grinding halt.

She closed her eyes and her fingers flew over the keys of the typewriter, newly oiled and tightened by Christian before he went back to the workshop. In her mind’s eye the words weren’t the only thing fuelled by the hope in Velveteen’s tiny turquoise eye.

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