Monday, 30 September 2013

50,000!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I HAVE 50,000 WORDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YIPPEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Okay, now I'm calmed down a bit and can explain. I finished my word count for my September story! Am I done the story? Not yet. :P But I have a grand total of 50,009 word! And I will probably have more by the time the book is done! SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Enjolras's posture explains how I feel! :) YAYYAYYAY!!!!!!!

Thursday, 19 September 2013

Coffee, Agents, and a Great Deal of Walking.

Okay, so I don't know how many of you know this already, but I am writing a novel during the month of September. I am not alone. My sister Anne-girl and my sister Laura are also writing novels. Anne-girl and I are writing 50,000 word novels, and Laura is writing a 15,000 word novel. And rase we excited?

You bet. But also tired, and sometimes frustrated. Writing a novel in such a short amount of time is hard work. We are doing it in September, because in November when Nanowrimo comas around ,we are all too busy. :(

Well, anyway, I would like to introduce you to some of my characters, and give you some snippets to give ya'll a taste of my story. Ladies and gentlemen! Please welcome Sophie Kathleen Kent, and Jacques (I don't think he has a middle name-- oh wait, he says his middle name is Gavroche-- wait a minute-- you're copying, Jacques! Oh, alright, but I still think that is copying, Oh, it isn't copying to have the same middle name as a the first name of a guy in a movie/book/concert/play? Whatever. :P Sorry about that. :)  Let me start over.

Ahem. Ladies and gentlemen! Please allow me to introduce you to Sophie Kathleen Kent and Jacques Gavroche Calvet! And the rest of them too, but these two are the most important.


This is Sophie. She is eighteen years old, works for a magazine company that publishes her stories and lives in New York City with her mom and dad.

Fun fact about Sophie: She loathes Spinach. 

Dinner was the usual stately affair of either fish or pork, with tons of vegetables and of course bread. Today it was white carp and spinach for the main course. Sophie loathed spinach. Raw was not too bad, but the cooked stuff slithered all over your fork, and squelched inside your mouth, and gave off a rather unpleasant odor.
Pushing away the offending greens from her fish, Sophie moved them tactfully around her plate a few times, lifted them halfway to her mouth, and then dumped them again, like people are always doing in movies, and finally succeeded in pushing the heap of green mush under her mashed potatoes. She knew she would not be able to get away with not eating the spinach, but at least this way they would be mixed with something to mask the flavor.
This done, she glanced over at Margaret, who was eating her spinach with as much gusto as could be expected from a ladylike person such as herself. Sophie shook her head.



This is Jacques. He is twenty-eight years old, works for a police and private agent station, and lives in Paris France. And NO, he is NOTHING like Sherlock Holmes, because I know that question would be aroused if I did not say something, and may very well still asked. You will have to read the story and learn how he isn't like Sherlock.

Fun Fact about Jacques: He can do ventriloquism.


Suddenly, Sophie stiffened. She had the feeling that she had heard a familiar voice. She turned slowly around, all alert. Yes, there it was! She was sure she had heard Margaret!
Without thinking, Sophie slipped out of line, ran down the path and ducked behind a bush. Her heart was beating fast, and she took a long, quiet breath to try and quiet it. Then she peeked out.
There was no one familiar in sight. Only the people waiting in line, and a young man coming up the path a few yards away. She gave a sigh of relief. She was safe. For now.
*******
It had been easy to spot her, of course. Not just by the way she had suddenly darted out of line and behind a shrub when he had done his ventriloquism of Miss Margaret’s voice, but from how she stood; independent-looking, excited, nervous, and cautious all mixed with the glaring fact that she was very American.



This is Louis Benett, AKA Armand Freedom. His age is non important. Well, if you MUST know, he is thirty-two, He just told me. I don't like talking to him. (He just made me strike that through. He isn;t nice, and you will find out why in a minute.) He is a professional kidnapper, and lives wherever he chooses, mostly in France. Though he ha just come from London, England, when he comes into the story. A jail or gaol in London, England, to be precise. 

Fact about Louis AKA Armand (It isn't a fun fact): He kidnaps people. Need we say more?


She began to edge away, but he caught her by the arm. She struggled, but his grip was a like a steel vise. “Not so fast, my dear,” he whispered, and her spine tingled with dread. “You aren’t going anywhere.”
She pulled her head, away; he had extremely bad breath for such perfect teeth. “What do you mean? Let me go!”
“My poor little fool,” he said patronizingly, “My poor, poor little imbecile. You do not understand who I am, do you you?”
She shook her head, a growing terror coming over her. “Who-- who are you?” she faltered.
He smiled, slowly twisting her arm. “My dear little fool-- for that is what I shall call you-- my name is not Armand Freedom. That is my, hmm, shall we say, my other name. My alibi, as you Americans say it. But, you want to know who I really am?” She nodded, and his eyes lit up with cold malice. “I am none other then Louis Benett, the great, the powerful, the awe-inspiring kidnapper!” He flung up his hand in triumph, and then stared closely at Sophie. “Are you not awestruck?”



This is Margaret. She is nineteen years old and works for the Kents by being Sophie's companion.

Fun Fact about Margaret: She emphasizes at least one word in every sentence.

“Halloa, Margaret!”
Margaret winced a little and turned to Sophie. “Hello, Sophie,” she said demurely, keeping her voice down, “and please do not shout. This is a bookstore, people are trying to read.”
Sophie sighed. “Must you always emphasize your words?” she whispered loudly.
Margaret ignored her.


And those are the characters that I have faces for. There are others, some of whom I will list here. Some are important, some are not as much.

Mr. Kent: Sophie's father.
Mrs. Kent: Sophie's mother.
Monsieur Asteir: Jacques' boss.
Gaston: Jacques' fellow agent.
Gastave: " "
Henri: " "

Here are some things that come up in the story. Just little ideas, or things, or places, things that usually appear more then once and are important, more or less, to the story.

Coffee.
Walking.
Views.
Story ideas.
Heights.
Time that seems to slow down. (It sounds weird, I know. But you have to read it.)
A knife.
Pistols.
Thoughts.
Memories.
Loyalty and friendship.
And the most important one: the Bible.

And that brings me to the synopsis. Which I haven't written yet, but am going to right now. Here we go.

Sophie Kent never imagined how complicated it would be to run away. Her family was on vacation in Paris, and here she was hemmed in by rules and regulations. Changing her name and running away seemed to be the perfect option to have a good, adventurous time strolling through Paris and collecting story ideas for the magazine company she works for. But is it really?
Her family hires a Christian agent named Jacques to find her, and he wins her trust quickly. But will she discover his true identity? And what can she say when Jacques questions the way she acts as a non-believer? And when a dangerous kidnapper comes onto the scene, making things even more complicated then they really are, Sophie must decide what true friendship and loyalty means, and finds herself faced with the hard decision of who to trust. Will she make the right choice?

This was just what came to me at the moment, you guys will have to bare with the unpolished synopsis for the moment. :P


And now, for some snippets!

Jacque looked at the ground for a minute, then back at her. “Kathleen, what you must do is found in the Bible! Romans 10:9 to be specific.” He pulled a pocket Bible out of his pocket. “Look, right here.” Flipping pages, he came to the place he was looking for and held it out to her. “See? It says, ‘ “If thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God has raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved.” ’ ”

Sophie turned away. “If just plain going to church can’t save you, then what it says in that verse seems too easy to believe. Why not one way instead of another?”


They continued down the slope, Jacque straining his eyes for any sign of level ground. Suddenly, a horn blared from behind them. They both turned to stare at the huge truck bumping farther back up the road behind them. Marie shivered. “He is going awfully fast, isn’t he Jacque?”
Jacque frowned. “Too fast. He’ll start to skid if he doesn't watch out.” He looked back at the road. “Look, I think this part is leveling out a bit, keep your eyes open.”
They had come to a flat stretch of ground, for they were now off the mountain itself and were just on the hills around it. Jacque sped up a bit, for it was smoother now, and the rain was letting up a bit.

The truck behind them was still going fast, and looked like it was trying to edge around them. Jacque gripped the wheel, and Marie closed her eyes and started praying as the car headed around a turn.


Jacque tapped her shoulder. “We have stopped, Kathleen. Open your eyes and take a look.”
She opened them. Before her stretched almost all of Paris. She could finally know what they saying, ‘you could see for miles’ meant. She was so happy, so overcome by the beauty, that all she could do was stand there with her mouth open, looking at the scenery. Out in front of her stretched the green of the Parc, beyond, the blue waters of the Seine River, beyond that, the towering buildings of the city of Paris. Yet, up as high as she was, the skyscrapers looked like dwarf houses to Sophie.

Jacque looked over at Sophie. “What do you want?”
She paused, studying the French menu. “I’d like the escargots, please.” At least she knew some French!
After ordering, Jacque turned to her, a smile on his face that might have been labeled as a smirk if Sophie hadn’t known how nice he was. “Excuse me, but do you realize what you ordered?”
She sniffed. “Of course! Snails in butter!” Then she added, “I am not someone in a book or movie that orders escargots and is horrified to find out what they got! That always makes me squirm.”
He laughed. “Me too. But I just wanted to check.” She grinned back.

“No good, Miss Kent.”
She looked in him in dismay. “No good!?” In her consternation, she squeaked, then cleared her throat hastily.
“No good,” he repeated.
“But--but why?”
“Miss Kent,” Mr. Peabody began, looking at her fixedly from over the top of his wire rimmed spectacles, “Miss Kent, do you realize what this story you have just given me is about?”
She nodded in confusion. “It is about the Titanic, sir.”
He nodded. “Precisely.”
“I don’t understand, sir.”
“Well, Miss Kent, this happens to be the third time this month that you have submitted to us a story on the Titanic. The third time, Miss Kent. And, to be frank with you, the public will stop buying this magazine if we continue to publish the same kind of stories.”

I need to make my own decisions from now on! I can take care of myself! From now on, I just want freedom!”
She rounded a corner and almost ran smack into a man reclining against the wall. “You called?” he asked, smoothing an oily mustache.
Sophie stopped short. “I did not call anyone,” she said, confused.
“Oh, but you did, my pussy,” smiled the man, unnervingly. “Armand Freedom, at your service!”

Closing his eyes, he stopped at a corner and began to pray. Oh Lord. Please keep Sophie safe. She doesn’t know you, and I-- I’m worried about her. Please, if it is Your Will, bring her to You. Oh God, what can she do without you? She needs you right now. Now that Armand is out there somewhere in this vast city, she is even more danger, Lord, please guide her footsteps. Please keep her safe. I-- don’t want to lose her. She is like a sister to me. I need her. We all need her. And she needs us. Please don't take her away.
“And Lord, please keep me safe. Help me to find her, and get her to safety before it is too late. Please help me. I can't do this without You. No matter how hard I want to do something, I can’t do it without You. Please, Lord, help me. Please.


Well, that is all for now! Please excuse the use of phrases such as " do not" instead of "Don't" and "will not" instead of "Won't" if there are any in these snippets. It is to up my word count. :P
Hope ya'll enjoyed it!

Wednesday, 11 September 2013

Remember.

This post is in commemoration of September 11th, 2001.

School started up again, and Rita turned her attention to studying about the ocean all she could in her free time. Sometimes on a Saturday afternoon, Rita would bike over to her fourth grade teacher Miss Telly’s house, and they would spend the afternoon together, reading about and discussing the ocean.
“Miss Telly, look at this fish, can you believe that it lives this far down in the water?” Rita held up the book she was reading to reveal a evil-looking lantern fish, with bulging eyes and razor-sharp teeth.
Miss Telly smiled. “It is amazing.” She paused, then said, “I certainly wouldn’t want to meet up with one of those!” Rita turned to her book again, and there was quiet in the room for a few minutes.
Miss Telly sat up. “Oh, there was an article that I wanted to show you! It’s about this man’s speculations on where Atlantis might be!” She jumped to her feet, and went to her desk. “I think I left it in here...” She rummaged around for a few minutes, and Rita came over to help look. “Oh, bother! I think I left it upstairs. I’ll be right back.” She hurried out of the room.
“I’ll keep looking,” Rita called after her. She turned over some papers, looking for anything oriented with the ocean. She didn’t mean to snoop, but as she pushed away some papers, her eyes fell on a picture of a man and Miss Telly in scuba diving gear. Setting the papers down, she picked up the photo and turned it over.
Me and Jack. August, 2001. Rita frowned. What were this man Jack and Miss Telly doing? She was so busy thinking, she didn’t hear Miss Telly come back into the room.
Miss Telly took the photo from her, and Rita jumped. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Miss Telly! I didn’t realize I was snooping, I’m sorry! I was just looking for the...” She noticed that Miss Telly wasn’t listening, she had sat down and was holding the photo tightly and staring off into space. “ Miss Telly? Are you okay?” She sat down beside her teacher and took her hand.
Miss Telly started, as if she had forgotten that Rita was there. “Oh, Rita! I’m sorry, I was just thinking.” She squeezed Rita’s hand and smoothed the photograph on her lap. Then she looked up. “Well, you see, this picture is very important to me, but I get really sad when I see it sometimes. I know, rather overly-emotional of me, but I can’t help it.”   
Rita shifted her position. She was simply dying to know what was so sad about the picture, but she knew it wouldn’t be polite to ask, especially when looking at it made her teacher so sad. So instead of asking, she pressed her lips together and was silent, figuring if Miss Telly wanted to tell her, she could.
Fortunately for Rita, Miss Telly was in the mood to talk, and after a moment, she began. “The man in the picture was my fiance, Jack. He and I were planning to get married in September of 2001.” She stopped and Rita tried not to fidget. “In this picture, we were about to on a scuba diving expedition in the Caribbean.” Miss Telly’s eyes grew dreamy. “We had a wonderful time that day. We swam around, looking at the coral reefs, and studying and taking pictures of the fish; you would love to go scuba diving in the Caribbean, Rita. It’s a wonderful experience.” Miss Telly stopped again, and Rita could tell she was reliving the day she had spent with Jack. She leaned back on the couch and waited until Miss Telly was ready to go on.
“Well, September came around, and finally, it was just a few more days until the wedding.” Rita’s stomach lurched, and she began to suspect what was going to happen next. She was right. “We both were working in New York at the time, so we could see each other often. I woke up two days before the wedding with butterflies in my stomach. I was so excited, and after I ate breakfast, I called Jack, who was working over at the World Trade Center, to say good morning.”
Her voice caught, and Rita clenched the armrest. “We talked for a few minutes, and then he said that he saw a plane coming toward the city at a low altitude. He sounded a bit concerned, and I asked him if anything might be wrong with the plane. He said he wasn’t sure. Then, not thirty seconds later, he yelled something I couldn’t make out, there was a terrific crashing sound, and the line went dead. I panicked and drove out to the Trade Center in five minutes flat. But by that time it was too late. I think you know the rest, the Twin towers were hit by two planes that had been hijacked by terrorists. By the time I got there, the North Tower had a plane sticking out of it, and there were flames and smoke shooting up from the building. I was hysterical, but I couldn't do anything.”
She stopped, and Rita put her arms around her teacher. “Fifteen minutes later, the South Tower was struck by another plane. This whole time I had hardly gotten out of my car, but was still standing where I had parked and started to get out, far enough away from the Trade Center to not get hurt, but close enough to see.” She took a deep breath, and reached for a tissue. “So, that is what happened. The South Tower collapsed first, at around 9:58, followed by the North Tower at 10:28. And there was nothing I could do” She put down the tissue and reached for another. Rita swallowed hard, tears running down her cheeks as she silently squeezed Miss Telly’s hand. Miss Telly wiped her eyes, and took another deep breath.
“So, that is what happened. I never saw Jack again. Since he was on one of the levels the plane hit, I comfort myself with the fact that he died instantly, and not with much pain.” Her voice quieted to a whisper. “It has been seven years since then. But, oh Rita! I miss him so much!” The room was quiet for a long time, with only the sounds of the wind moving through the curtains.

Than Rita put her arms around Miss Telly again and hugged her. “Oh, Miss Telly, I’m so sorry. So very sorry.”      ~ The Lost World.         

Wednesday, 4 September 2013

Leaves of A Story.

Ugh, that title was supposed to sound majestic, and poetic, but... it flopped. :P Anyway, time for September Snippets. Please follow the link on the banner to learn more! Or click here.


Sophie stopped still. The mist was so pretty. It wrapped around her, enveloping her in a great gray cloud of scentless smoke. It caressed her silently without actually touching her, just wrapping around her like a ghostly curtain. She wandered through the park, enjoying the thrill of freedom.
As she walked, the walkway began to have more people on it, though not many, for it was still early. The rain had stopped by now, and as the sun rose in all its rosy glow, the mist slowly cleared, Sophie became of aware of a great form rising above the park. She caught her breath. Why, she must be in the Parc du Champs de Mars!
And then, piercing majestically through the clouds of mist, the Eiffel Tower rose, coming to a stately peak at 1,063 feet in the air. Sophie felt a tingle of excitement run through her. How majestic it was! ~ September Story. (That isn't its official name-- I just don't have one yet. :))




“What can I get you?” asked the tiny waitress. Of course, she spoke in French, but I don’t speak French, and am too busy to look up the words at the moment, so you will all just have to grit your teeth and bare with me. ~ September Story.

She was down the stairs in an instant, feet slapping on the hard, worn wood of the steps. They creaked and groaned obligingly, the third from the bottom making the usual chirping sound. She skidded into the living room, flying past the threadbare sofa and Buddy’s chair, covered with hair, as usual.
Then she was out the front door, which banged shut with a screech behind her, racing down the walkway and into Jacob’s outstretched arms.
She swooped into the air, wind rushing through her hair, making it even messier than it already was. His fingers tickled her as he put her back down, and she giggled, squirming away. He pulled her into a bear hug, holding her tight. ~
Pearl Harbor Story. (Yeah, I'm bad with titles. :P Have you noticed? :P )

“Come along, the lions are ready.”
“Lions?” Paul stopped dead in his tracks.
“Yes, lions.” The man studied Paul’s white face. “Why are you in here, anyway? You are no more then a boy.”
“I ran away,” Paul managed, staring at the walls beyond the man.
The man grunted. “Well, that was stupid.” ~ Loving Your Enemies.

Sophie leaned back in the chair, looked to see if anyone was around and let her breath out in an exasperated whoosh. The she kicked off the desk and spun around and around, staring at the ceiling until she was dizzy.
When this happened, she stopped gulped for air, and began again. Her bangs flew bounced gaily on her forehead, and she skimmed around the room, spinning and smiling. What fun! She must ask dad to get one for her room at home, it was taking away all her worries!
She gave another kick, and skimmed across the floor, slamming against the desk. There was a dry clearing of a throat, and she sat bolt upright, embarrassment washing over her and Mr. Peabody studied her over his spectacles from the doorway.
To her relief, he didn’t scold, but merely commented as he sat back down, “Are you in the habit, Miss Kent, of spinning around office buildings with you head hanging off the back of the chair?”
“N--no sir.” She scooted back over to the desk, and straightened her skirt. “What did you want to show me, sir?” ~ September Story

“We should go, Rita,” Richard decided, pulling Rita to her feet. It was only until she was standing on the bank that Rita realized she had had the perfect opportunity to yank him into the water like he had done, but now it was too late.
Phooey. ~ The Lost World.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” remarked Richard. They were out of breathe and had collapsed on the sand bank to rest.
“Does it hurt?” Rita asked.
Richard threw a leaf in her hair. “I knew you were going to say that.”
“Then why did you pause to let me say it?”
“My dear chap, I would never have dreamt of depriving you from your moment of triumph,” Richard quoted, “alas, a moment was all I could spare.”
“Sink me,” Rita yawned.
“Okay.” Richard shoved her into the shallow water.
“Oh, you knew what I meant! Anyway, what is it?”
“Well, let’s make a dam!”
“Okay. But why here, why not back at the house?”
“Mmm, I don’t know, maybe because there are waterfalls here, and not back home.”
“Whatever.”
“So, do you want to do it?”
“Sure, okay,”
“Oh, well, thank you, your vote of confidence is overwhelming.”
“Alright, alright, let’s do it! But please stop quoting something for everything I say! You’ve already quoted The Scarlet Pimpernel and The Princess Bride. What’s next, Sherlock Holmes?”
“Elementary, my dear Watson.”
“You know, he never actually says that.”
“I know, I know. But, anyway, what’s wrong with you today? You’re usually the one quoting every other minute.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Rita said sheepishly, “but--”
“But you just want something to complain about?” Richard teased.
“Hey!” She chased him for that, finally succeeding in getting him to collapse on the sandbank so she could tickle him. But he only grabbed her, picked her up, and deposited her in the water.
“How come you’re so strong?” she grumbled jokingly.
“I exercise,” Richard said, rising to his feet and displaying a muscle. “Come on, let’s get to work.” ~ The Lost World.