How are your NaNo novels doing?
I am pleased to say that I have reached 32k and have an end in mind, which is more than I can say for other NaNo projects–indeed, more than I can say for any writing projects at all. Also, my friend Kristia made a beautiful cover that I could finally display on the website!
I thought I would share an unedited excerpt from the novel. You guys, I am extremely proud of how it’s turning out–proud that I could turn a short story into something more complex, expanding on beloved characters and adding detail to the environment. Thank you for all the support when it was still a serial; it was that support that encouraged me to make it a novel.
Here’s the excerpt. I can’t wait until you can read the whole thing!
Her eyelids fluttered, but she did not yet wake fully. Dreams pulled her back in; she was running in the leaves with a boy her age, his face glowing as he called her name, “Ginny! Ginny, you’ve got to be faster!”
Her eyelids fluttered again and she thought, I know who that is. “Caspar,” she breathed, not a question but a certainty. Dreams tugged at her once more.
She was chasing the little boy because he’d stolen her button doll. “You’ve got better toys!” he taunted her, but she screamed and threw rocks at him until a tall man in a black coat broke them up.
“Your Highness, Lady Genevieve, that’s no way to behave! You’re supposed to be friends.”
“He took my doll!” she screamed.
The man pried her button doll out of young Caspar’s hand and promptly returned it to her. “Your mother will have to talk to you about stealing things, Prince Caspar,” he’d said, to which the boy scowled.
In the waking world, she felt someone touch her hand. “Lady Kelsea,” said a familiar voice, soft as if he feared she would flee like a spooked horse.
But she wouldn’t. Kelsea finally broke away from those dreams, opening her eyes to blink away more tears. She was still on that armchair, and he sat on his knees before her, eyes shiny with grief.
It felt as though the ground were falling beneath her. She couldn’t question that the memories were real; that very button doll now sat on her bedside table at home.
Caspar knelt before her and waited, almost as if expecting her to strike him. Instead she said in a weak voice, almost a croak, “I knew you were familiar.”