I've thought about a part time job, but that's dangerous territory, for me.
2,050 words today, so far. Up to just shy of 9,000 words total. Still haven't made the transfer from child to adult Sarah yet, there's another twist before that can happen. Let's hope I can keep this streak of word counts up.
I guess it's time for another teaser bit:
Once Teara had untangled the little princess’s hair from her tiara (Eleanor had refused to remove the thing, saying it made her a princess,) Teara had offered her a piggy back ride to that castle, saying Eleanor’s papa was probably worried sick over her.
True to her age (5, maybe 6 nameyears and the birth year?) the child had declined the piggy back, saying “I can walk, and besides, you’re hurt. You shouldn’t even be walking on that, as hurt as you are, you need a crutch. Let’s make you some crutches.”
Unable to deny the logic (or, let’s face it, the cuteness of a little girl that knew she was right), Teara simply said “Okay, find me an oak tree with nice long, straight branches, and we can make me a set of crutches.”
“Okay, you stay here, and I’ll go looking for them,” decreed the little monarch, starting off deeper in the forest.
“Nice try, young’un, but I was a headstrong princess long before you were born. We’re going together, if your little legs can keep up with my long legged limp; we’re headed for the castle, which is that way,” Teara hooked a thumb behind her, “and we’ll find that oak tree along the way.”
“Awwww… okay! Can I be a scout for you?” Eleanor asked.
“Sure, just stay where I can see you, in case you find another trap with your feet,” quipped Teara.
So they set off for the castle, the warrior princess limping and the child magnate prancing. As if by sheer force of belief on the child’s part (‘of course,’ said a darker part of Teara’s mind, ‘she’s the Goddess herself’), they stumbled upon a clearing of oak trees, each one more perfect than the next for crutch making. In a little alcove clearing to the east, there was a fallen log and stump that made a perfectly serviceable worktable and stool. Teara started to be a little afraid of the little creature dancing along beside her, (“look, Teara, oak trees! And a worklog, just like the Seven Dwarves! Can we make the animals make it like Cinderella?”) and chided herself for blowing a coincidence out of proportion.
“No, honey, animals generally fear…” Teara trailed off midsentence and gaped. From out of the woods came bounding and flying deer with little white flag tails, birds as blue as Stranger’s Lake, squirrels with bushy tails, and a farking snow white unisus with a silver horn (that thing looked like a rapier, and plenty sharp) and a wingspan easily 2 men across. They came up to the little (demoness) princess and sat down or alighted near her, seemingly awaiting commands. She cleared her throat and began to sing:
Come, my little forest children, I’ve got a job for you,
Alide’, alilou, make my wish come true
There’s cutting and carving and stripping to do,
Now be good dears and let’s make something new.
There’s a princess that’s been hurt and that’s no joke,
And squirrels, we need those branches of oak
(Oh dear Goddess, the squirrels scampered up the oak trees and started gnawing at the straighter branches, severing them one by one. Who, no, WHAT was this little girl thing that could control forest animals and change the past)
“Eleanor, I think I’m ok, I don’t think I need those crutches after all..” Teara called, edging further toward the edge of the glade.
At the interruption of the song, Eleanor and all the animal turned and glared malevolently (no, not malevolent, just irritated) at Teara. “I was having them make you some crutches because you need them,” Eleanor scolded. “Sit there on that stump until I get them made.”
Teara continued edging out of the clearing. “I really don’t think I need them, it’s ok. If you really want your friends to make them, I’ll come back after I’ve gone to the bathroom in those cattails,” she offered, hoping she’d be able to make a break for it towards the faerywoods while the kid thought she was taking a leak.
“Ok, I’ll keep them at work!” exclaimed the little girl.
Teara limped off toward the cattails, noticing her pain getting better as she got away from the little hellion. She also suddenly had to take a massive leak as she approached the patch. Once inside, she relieved herself, while debating on whether or not to go back and help the demonspawn (she couldn’t be related to the Goddess, she was too powerful.) In the end, her curiosity won out. She stood, relaced her pants and hobbled back toward the little clearing.
It was empty. No animals, no princess, nothing. Well, nothing except a pair of ornately carved crutches that looked as though they might actually fit her. She cautiously edged toward the crutches, fully expecting the little hellspawn or her woodland minions to pop and force her to take the crutches whether or not she wanted them. When she got to them, she paused, trying to determine if she was being watched or the crutched were bait. The forest just seemed empty. Her pain was still better than it had been as well. She reached out and slapped at the crutches, vaguely expecting them to snap at her with splintery wooden teeth. When they just fell over, she cursed herself for being superstitious and bent to pick them up. When she fell because her busted ankle gave out, she grabbed for a crutch to help herself up. A rabbit proffered her the (padded? How?) top of the crutch saying “You should’ve been here when the princess finshed having us make this! She gave us all the ability to talk human!”
Teara screeched and scooted backwards, feeling her breeches trying to tear. “The HELL?!”
“Sorry, she did caution us that it would freak you out,” the rabbit apologized. He hopped closer to her, still with the padded part of the crutch in his (sharp) teeth. She saw that the exterior cloth was from the petticoats of Eleanor’s dress and realized it was probably stuffed with donated goose down.
“Can you still speak rabbit? My last encounter with a talking animal indicated that most animals only have capacity for one form of communication,” Teara queried, well aware that her sanity was seriously in question because she was holding a conversation with what looked like it could be a good dinner entrée.
“Yep, I already checked. I guess it was part of the magic she did,” the rabbit replied “Here, take the crutch. It’s not cursed or anything. The princess just said she had to go and then ran into the woods.”
“She probably landed herself in another snare trap again,” muttered Teara. “Thanks.” She accepted the crutch, noting it was covered in detailed carvings of her name, crowns, flowers, and swords. She used it and the tree next to her to haul herself upright. She fit the crutch under her left arm and used it as a cane to get the other one under her other arm. Of course, they fit perfectly.
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Notes to self:
1) Don't get tipsy, dummy. You know that's a fine line. Just because gin didn't do it this time doesn't mean you're safe next time.
2) Gin and tonics, while tasty, have to have the alcohol ramped up fairly high for it to be noticeable.
3) Guess what, alcohol caused sweet stuff binging. What a fucking surprise. Oh wait, we knew that one.
4) No hangover, but I could happily go back to bed or eat a cow.
5) Where'd my creative process go? No drinky for you until you get the book done.
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Oops... we all goof once in a while. Rest up and you'll feel better.
I enjoyed reading your teasers. You have a very approachable writing style, which is very pleasant these days given that many sci-fi, fantasy writers seem to be striving more for literary value (some kind of high style) rather than substance. Very nice indeed.
Thanks, Canio. I've tried writing in the formal lit version most fantasy author's have; I just can't stay in that voice. My writing voice is what you see, and, unless I'm writing tech reports, that's what you get.
Quick question (well, poll, I guess): At what page count does a story go from a short story to a novel that can stand alone? Or from a novella to a full blown novel? I'm not looking for a wiki or publisher answer, I want a reader's opinion.
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Love the story!
1000 pages!!! OK, just kidding, most books I read average 300-400 pages.
Your story is very intriguing. I love how the teasers are so different.
Primal since 9/24/2010"Our greatest foes, and whom we must chiefly combat, are within." Miguel de Cervantes
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As a Stephen King reader, I expect a short story to be 10-30 pages long. A novella I just read was something like 100 pages. A novel, to me, is about 300 pages long.
However, I LOVE the really long books like Under the Dome which was over 1000 pages. I think that's why I like book series like the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo Trilogy or The Hunger Games trilogy. I can live with the characters for longer.
And for the record, I'll choose a novel over a short story or novella nay day.
Last edited by jenn26point2; 04-20-2012 at 07:01 AM.