Monday, November 30, 2015

NaNoWriMo - 50,000 Words Completed

And, now back to editing. Miss Winsome's next two novellas and Reigning Curse(a steampunk fairy tale) will be out in 2016. That's the plan.

Sunday, November 22, 2015

A Kiss in Eight Sentences

From NaNoWriMo work in progress - 8-sentence-sunday-on-dieselpunks

    At the entrance, he took her hand from his elbow and started to bring it to his mouth. Olive, in the spirit of the evening, stepped forward and kissed him gently on the mouth. It was such a quick action of pulling his hand down, stepping closer, and popping up on her toes to reach his mouth that her eyes looked into his and she saw a look of surprise cross his face at this blurry close distance. She liked that she surprised him. He didn’t step back but with the hand that wasn’t holding hers, he caressed the underside of her chin and extended the length of the kiss which Olive meant to have only last a moment. Their lips softly touching the others. He pulled away slowly and she dropped her feet from tiptoe position. 
   He gave her hand a little squeeze and said, “Good night, beautiful inventor.” 
   “Good night, Eli.”
   With her words, his hand left hers and he clutched at his heart, walked backwards two steps before he turned and left.

Wednesday, November 18, 2015

Won't You Come Out to Play

A terribleminds flash fiction challenge during NaNoWriMo writing - Crazy, Right? This challenge was a 1000-words based on a song picked randomly. My song was Dear Prudence by The Beatles. I wrote this using the characters from my NaNoWriMo project. It might end up or it might not end up in the completed story.  Go here to read others - flash-fiction-challenge-random-song-title-palooza

Won't You Come Out to Play

After a hearty lunch and bike ride around the entire campus, Olive went back to the inventing lab. When she put her bike in the rack, she reminded herself to set the timekeeper bell to sound an alarm at precisely 6:15, which would give her an hour to tidy up and get to her outing with Eli. He was mysterious about the exact plans but assured her it was nothing that would harm her reputation. She laughed because a female college student in the inventing trade did not stand a chance with any man of means with or without a gleaming reputation. Though, Eli was kind to assure her.
   Up the three sets of stairs, she chanted "alarm, 6:15, alarm, 6:15." 
   She reached the door, put in the key, and turned it until the rather loud click sounded. The noise of the click brought her thoughts to how the gears clicked soothingly on the second part of her current invention. 
   She closed and locked the door behind her and entered the lab. The space sang to her of the countless possibilities. Each completed and half-complete inventions sitting on tables had their own voice and drew her to work on them. 
   Olive’s chant was forgotten. Perhaps it was the click of the lock or the smell of oil, keeping the gears running smoothly, which permeated throughout the room which made her forget. She went straight to the invention, the pile of schematics, and layout drawings. She stared at the drawings and then she pulled from the various drawers and nooks all the parts needed. She marveled at how the drawings spoke to her as if her father stood next to her giving directions.
   After laying out the parts, she proceeding to assemble. The time ticked away while the outside world turned from day to night. The college clock tower chimed each hour. The clanging of bells signified five, six and then seven o’clock, but Olive’s eyes never lifted from her task. 
   A loud banging on the lab door disrupted her concentration. 
   Startled from her trance, she stood, dropped the section of gears, and a small steam motor. She looked at the large clock on the next work table.
   “Shit! I forgot the alarm,” she said looking at her grease covered hands and wondered how many times she had touched her face with them.
    Another knock on the door, “Olive, Miss Randolph. Are you in there?”
    Olive ran to the door almost knocking over a lamp and a stool. She looked again at her hands and at the key in the door, and then at her skirt where she should’ve seen a stained apron. 
    “Olive. Did I hear you?”
    “Yes, one moment, I’m,” she rushed to get a rag and wrapped it around her hand so she wouldn't get grease on the key. She turned the key and opened the door with the wrapped hand.
    Eli Crane walked into the room looking very groomed with slicked black hair and a black velvet jacket. “Are you alright?” He took the rag wrapped hand into his. Olive saw concern in his amber eyes.
    She pulled her hand from his, “My hand is fine. I was greasing the gears and I lost track of time and...” She stopped speaking and wiped her hands in the rag.
    Eli finished her rambling, “and you lost track of time because you are an inventor not some silly maiden preening for the evening.” He took the rag out of her hands and inspected her fingers which were shiny with a layer of grease and her cuticles were stained with ink. “Perfectly lovely,” he said bowing and kissed the top of each one. “Knowing I was taking an inventor to a gathering, I left plenty of time for...” Letting go of her, he went to the coat stand, grabbed the only coat and held it out for her.
    “So you left plenty of time for rudeness. Susan usually keeps me timely to engagements, but she’s not here and I was going to set an,” she sputtered while letting him help her put on the coat.
    “Olive, stop, I’m in no need of an apology.” He held out his elbow. Olive sighed and took his arm even though the quiet whirl of the lab still called her to keep working. 

    When they stepped outside the building, there was two men and a woman who were all holding onto bicycles with headlamp illuminating the ground. This group instantly greeted them.
   “You found Olive, our inventor. And what a delightful sight she is,” said the man in a black velvet vest. 
   “Manners, Jacob. Let Eli introduce her,” said the girl in a black silk poplin split skirt which was perfect for an evening out and riding a bike. Seeing how lovely this girl looked Olive frowned because of the carefully chosen ensemble going to waste just sitting on her bed. With a toss of her head knowing her red curls were springing out of her quickly made bun, she desided her unkempt state was how a genius inventor should look.
   “This is no evening for manners,” replied the same man. “Olive, I’m Jacob. She is Beth. And he is Sean. Take your bike, Eli, for the evening can't start until we arrive.”
   Eli chuckled and took the bike. “Olive, you can ride on the handlebars. I’ve done it before.”
   Prefering to be incontrol, Olive said,“I have my own." She ran to get it.
   The groups energy was catching. Olive knew tonight was not going to be her typical evening.

Sunday, November 15, 2015

8 Sentence Sunday - Novemeber 15

Here's my eight for 8-sentence-sunday-on-dieselpunks
“You think it would be beneficial to your invention to take a picture of my painting. The one I did for the slide presentation?”
“Yes, have you thought about my other questions on the practical use for the invention.”
Olive felt excited some answers were at hand if they photographed one of her paintings.

“I’m not practical by nature. My husband gets quite upset about how lackadaisical way I run the household. Would you please come to my office tomorrow during the noon hour and we’ll set up something about having my painting photographed." She swallow the last few sips of tea and grabbed up the remaining three biscuits on her saucer and left

Sunday, November 8, 2015

8 Sentence Sunday November 8

These eight are from the NaNoWriMo novel in progress. It is a darker offshoot of the Miss Winsome tales. Miss Olive Randolph is the main character. Her mother is Maggie Randolph. This eight is an argument between professors about the women inventors being allowed in an inventor's academic Salon.

“Weren’t you listening. They were actually going to let women join a few seminars. And, Huzzah for that. I would have Maggie Randolph a member any day. What a bore to only have men inventors. It would be a simple matter of changing the name and a few words of the doctrine.”
Professor Smith’s face was getting red and he stood with his hands clenched in fists. “Are you daft man? That can never be!” He stepped toward Professor Jones.

8 Sentence Sunday

Sunday, November 1, 2015

8 Sentence Sunday on Dieselpunks

Here is my 8 sentence sunday on dieselpunks. Today is the first day of NaNoWriMo. I'll start to post excerpts of the story I'll be writing the entire month of November, so this will be the last of excerpts from my H.A.G. novel.

Here is a quickly grabbed 8 out of my HAG story. I need to get started on NaNo. Sunday's are busy family days to try to start NaNo. Those first words are the hardest to write even if I know that they will be changed when I edited.
"Marriage a rare thing?"
"Couples who decide to share rooms or have a child will throw a party. A formal ceremony of marriage is usually only between two old families."
"The wedding in the woods?"
"An anomaly. They were not of old families. They wanted the ceremony and she was a mademoiselle aphrodite." David stopped and motioned her to step next to him. Heather drew in a quick breath at the sight of a wolf, such creatures were an extreme rarity in her time.