elingregory: (Default)


And repeating it here - 25294 words - because that graphic will change next time I update.

I'm about halfway through the story too and have written the first Big Misunderstanding™, a trope I really don't much like but in this case it's more of an ethical disagreement than done to make the relationship more iffy.

Anyhow, here's a sample, all unshod, uncurried and straight off the moor:

It was trowel work, quick and satisfying and he was soon able to see the slabs in their entirety. They were a lot wider than he had thought they would be and he realised he'd be unlikely to be able to move them alone. Luckily Sion and Rob were still close to hand and each man fitted a hand into the overlap of the lid with the supporting stone and stood ready to lift on Mal's work. He held up a length of two by one.

"Just lift the first one a couple of inches," he asked, "so I can slip this in to support the lid. I want to get a couple of pictures. If we can document the whole process it could be good publicity for the site." And for the museum, went without saying.

"Ready, Rob?" Sion grinned at Mal. "On three then - one, two, three."

The stone lifted smoothly just a little soil tumbling into the void below, and Mal slotted the piece of wood in about a foot. "Lovely," he said and took a penlight from his pocket. "Want the first look boys?"

"Hell yeah," Rob said and Sion grinned at him and shouldered into the space between him and Mal.

Mal turned on the little torch and directed the beam into the gap. He smiled to hear two indrawn breaths. It was such a thrill to be the first to see something that had been hidden in the ground for centuries. he remembered his first time well. The dry earth under his knees, sun on his back, the grit on his tongue as a breeze laden with the scent of thyme and seaweed blew dust across the rocky Aegean peninsula. Then he had moved some more dust and and been looking into the face of a man long dead, just bones but broad browed and strong jawed. Moved, Mal had murmured, "Hello brother."

It was a long moment before Rob or Sion stirred.

"Oh wow," Rob whispered, his voice a little shaky. "Hello you. Pleased to meetcha."

"Mal.” Sion looked across at him, eyes wide. “You got to see this."
elingregory: (Default)
Another quick update. As off last night I have 17187 words, some of which will have to go as they don't do much but add to the word count. BUT they were quite fun to write.

The story is tentatively called "The Bones of our Fathers". I googled it and there's nothing else with that title other than a Men's Rights Activist page on Facebook and I'm not too worried about the two being confused. The story has also informed me that instead of being the little standalone comedy short I thought I was writing, it is in fact the first part of a series of seven interlinked comedy novellas about the relationships of a group of gay men in a small country town each of which more or less standalone, but contribute a bit to an overall plot. Some of the stories are already partially written and some are already planned. It's a nice thought>, anyway.

Because it's nice to have a proper beginning to a project, here are the first few paragraphs:

Mal supposed that she was gorgeous. Forever legs in tight jeans emphasised by those stupid Ugg Boots, a tailored blouse clinging to, to his eyes, impossible breasts, fine flyaway blonde locks floating on the breeze like a shampoo advert and a pretty face currently obscured by the camera she was holding to record the event. Yes Mrs Gaskell was, probably, gorgeous. And the reason Mal suspected this was from the hungry wistful expressions of the faces of the men standing around him on this Godforsaken hillside, listening to Mr Gaskell drone on about what an asset this development would be to the community, while this lovely trophy wife half his age drifted around recording the event for posterity.

"Shouldn’t be allowed.”

Mal looked over his shoulder at a heavy set man in a hard hat who was staring at Mrs Gaskell as though he could eat her with a spoon. “God, look at that arse."

"Oh, yeah I am," muttered the younger taller man beside him and Mal saw with utter shock that he wasn't looking at the girl. The young man caught Mal's eye and gave him a huge white grin before letting one eyelid droop in a wink. Mal looked away hurriedly, not quite able to believe it.

"Rob," the older man warned, "don't frighten the archaeologist."

Nanowrimo

Nov. 2nd, 2015 11:02 am
elingregory: (Default)
This is harking back a bit but I always used to post about my progress on Nanowrimo plus a bit of an excerpt if what I was writing was excerptable. I also really enjoyed a time of year when I felt no crushing guilt over typing something like "responisitibilities"!

I haven't Nanoed for a few years but I thought I'd dip my toe this year. I'm not doing it properly - natch. I'm writing some additional chapters to a completed work as per suggestions from my betas - when J L Merrow, Clare London and K J Charles all give you similar advice you better jolly well take notice - and when those are done I'll start a completely new work.

Progress so far:



And here's a little excerpt of Eleventh Hour - which is spies vs anarchists in 1920s London. I started it 9th September 2011 so it's bloody well time I got the damn thing finished. Here tough guy spy Briers is checking in with Naylor, his handler, and expressing concern over Miles's Siward, his partner, who is having to wear a frock and is feeling both vulnerable and very pissed off:

"By the way, congratulations are in order for that piece of work yesterday. Please let Siward know that it was appreciated. He seems to be doing well."
"Better than he thinks, which is probably my fault, sir." Briers admitted. “I gave him a bit of a rocket for overstepping the line. He is only supposed to be an observer, after all. But my - er - language was a little immoderate." Briers grinned and added, "If you get a request that he be reassigned, please ignore it."
"I've already had such a request and replied to the effect that he'll be reassigned when the job is done."
“Thank you for that, sir." Briers felt a little shocked because he had been joking and hadn't even considered that Miles might have been so angry that he would try to get out of his responisitibilities. "So continue with the observation and I presume that I should carry on trawling the depths to see if I spot anyone I know?"
"Indeed." Naylor picked up a sheet, partially typed with scrawled notations. "There's been a development. we've had word from Berlin that one of their better agents has been moved to London. Remember that business in Vienna? You knew him as Ritter, I believe, but Lord knows what name he'll be travelling under now."
Briers grimaced to cover the urge to grin at the memory of the smooth curve of Falk’s bare back and his moan of pleasure as Briers’s hand fastened on his hips. "That slippery bastard?"
"His presence may have absolutely nothing to do with Andrija but as a coincidence I don't like it."
"Neither do I. I'll keep both eyes open for him, sir," Briers promised.
elingregory: (Default)
I hit the famous Nanowrimo wall during the day on Friday. Wheeeeeee smack, face first, "OMG why did I ever start this, it's rubbish, I must've been mad, mad I tell you, mushahahahaha!" *falls down hyperventilating* Apparently it happens to everyone every year. It certainly happened to me last year. I remember bitching about it :D

So I didn't write anything at ALL yesterday and today have written a lot but not enough. I'm making myself do it, because - well, there's no GOOD reason, it's just because!

Which proves, I think, in a useful kind of way, that one doesn't actually have to be happy, committed and enthused to write. One just needs to get ones arse into ones seat and hammer on the keys, even if it is while cursing.

Anyhow and no snippet because today i can't see anything that doesn't make my eyes bleed.

No worries. I'll be better by Wednesday!

Sleepy

Nov. 8th, 2011 10:37 pm
elingregory: (Default)
It has been a long day but I've caught up and am back on course to finish on 30th November. :D



And here's a snippet: Read more... )

*Blushes*

Nov. 5th, 2011 11:16 am
elingregory: (Default)
Not a very good day at all yesterday with Nanoing. I got majorly distracted writing something else so only managed 1336 words.That's brought me way below the median line :( I'll have to work hard to catch up over the weekend.

I've shot myself in the foot this morning as well by staying in bed and reading Matt Houlbrook's "Queer London" instead of getting up and writing. I comfort myself with the idea that it's research for "Eleventh Hour" but actually it was idleness - I have other things to red but none of the others could be reached just by sliding an arm out from under the duvet.My bedside reading pile is nicely reachable without even exposing my elbow.

Anyhow - word count is now

And here's a tiny snippet: Read more... )

Profile

elingregory: (Default)
elingregory

January 2017

S M T W T F S
123 4567
891011121314
15161718192021
22232425262728
293031    

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 20th, 2017 11:50 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios