NaNoWriMo day 3

Well, today’s the fourth day of NaNoWriMo, and we’ve got a health competition here at work, with me, Yvonne, Jessica, Jenny, and Kelly K. all participating! Before I give a brief excerpt of what I wrote on day 3, I figured I could give some advice. If you’re going to be writing, you need music.

No one can tall you what kind of music to listen to. Except me. I can. You should listen to Instrumental Surf Rock.

Here’s my soundtrack thus far:

jaynova’s surf-a-paluau station on Pandora.
Shots in the Dark-various artists (A Henry Mancini surf tribute!)
Ventures Play Telstar, The Lonely Bull And Others/The Ventures in Space-The Ventures (2 albums on 1 CD!)
Mr. Eliminator-Dick Dale and his Del-Tones (With too many vocal tracks.)
Non-surf music: Secret Adventure-Constant Comment.

So go listen to that music, NaNos!

Ok, here’s a short excerpt from yesterday’s writing. The main character is my John Constantine rip-off. Sue me.

Joe 1

Now.

“Joe Milton!?! What the hell happened to you?!?”

Joe looked up from the bar where he was nursing a Guinness to see his friend Nathanstaring at him, wide eyed and terrified.

Nathan continued, “You look like you’ve been through a wood chipper!”

Joe didn’t think it could be all that bad, though when he had walked into Keith’s Pub, his adrenalin had been coursing through his veins. He had noted that the barteneder, who was used to his shinanigans over the years, had regarded him with a look of horror, but by the time Joe was into his second beer, the entire place had chilled out. Presently, Joe touched his face to feel how bad it had swelled. He was puffy, though the shock of recent events had not worn off, and he was not in pain. He pulled his hand from his face to find it sticky with blood. He looked down at his glass of Guinness to find that it to was bloody. He didn’t want to think about how bad he must have looked.

“Seriously, man! What the fuck happened.”

Joe puled out a cigarette and went to light it, his lighter shaking in his hand slightly, though he did his best to control the trembling and maintain his cool. The bartener tapped him on his shoulder, which hurt more than it should have and that Joe suspected may had been dislocated and popped back into place a few times during his struggle a few hours before. Joe looked up to see the man pointing to the “No Smoking by Ohio State Ordinance” sign. Joe flashed the bartender “the look,” and the man walked away. Joe lit his cigarette.

“Dude! So you have to be so blasé about everything? You need to go to the hospital.”

Joe looked down at his bloody glass again. “I suppose I do.”

“Oh, so you’re talking now? Good.” Nathan sat next to Joe and ordered a Killian’s. “So what the hell happened to you? You’ve been gone for almost a week! No one knew where to find you!”

Joe looked down at his trench coat and saw that it appeared to have been shredded by something that that had large, razor sharp claws. He knew that this was because it had been shredded by something that had large, razor sharp claws. “Nathan, my friend, you would not believe me if I told you.”

It was true, too. Nathan had been Joe’s friend since first grade, but no matter what Joe Milton had been through, no matter how many mystic and arcane secrets Joe had discovered, no matter how many times Joe had gambled with his very soul in order to barter with and con demonic forces, Nathan always thought he was a liar. An entertaining liar, a liar worth keeping around for a laugh or for inspiration for one of Nathan’s short stories, but ultimately a man who could not be trusted.

“Look, Joe…just start at the beginning. Where have you been?”

Joe finished off his Guinness and ordered another. While he was waiting, he looked at his trench coat again, angrily, and at his dress shirt, which was untucked and covered in blood and filth. So there was not that much new there. “Well, do you really want to know? Because I’m not supposed to tell anyone. Like, this will be top secret, tall anyone and I have to kill them type stuff. Got it?”

Nathan’s eyes widened at the prospect of new fodder for one of his stories, and Joe knew that was what was going through the man’s mind. He really didn’t care because he needed to vent, needed to tell somebody, anybody, and knew that by the time Nathan got around to putting pen to paper or finger to key, the details would be mangled beyond recognition.

“OK. So a week ago, I was approached by a man…”

OK…that’s if for now. Um…don’t forget to SPONSOR MY MUSTACHE!!!

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One Response to “NaNoWriMo day 3”

  1. Looking good, guy! And, um, thanks for the music bullying! I guess I have no choice but to give it a try. 😉

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