NaNoWriMo Best of the Daily (7)

      The smell, as they approached, changed dramatically from the crisp clean air the snow capped ridge line had embraced them in, to one Terra could describe only as a humid soup of new and old growth.  It wasn’t exactly pleasant, the undertones of mold and rotting wood mixed with something like mossy oak and freshly brushed horses.  Participant-2014-Square-ButtonIt struck her as being full of life compared to the long cold journey that led them to this, their final destination point.  All that remained now was the descent.


Tune in for quick reads of the best (or least despicable) selections from the previous day’s word count, by virtue of my daily writing regimen for the National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo).

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NaNoWriMo Best of the Daily (6)

Drove by miles of slash pile fires in a dark 330am world coming home from a late shift at work. Cold mist & smoke framed burning orange pyre colonies. An idea formed for an incredible plot twist that’s going to take my #NaNoWriMo to a whole new level.  So here’s a little background to the original plot.

     The Spindellar Ordinance was clear in its directives:  eye to eye contact was forbidden unless medically approved or in the practice of medicine.  Spindellar was the oldest of the laws handed down through the ages by the Ancestors who colonized Kepler-Z.  Unlike other laws, it even explained the dangers and need for its existence.  Participant-2014-Square-ButtonNamed after the the now extinct previous inhabitants of the world they now populated, the ordinance was a mix of science, religion, and history.  It explained the electrophysics in brief about how, for some species in space, the combination of the planet’s natural magnetic forces along with the psychotensive elements many (including humans) radiated, eye contact could cause subversive internal bio-damage.  It was tantamount to murderous intent to break the ordinance.  The history of the Spindellites was proof that beings of less cohesive character could exploit this fact and affect genocide.


Tune in for quick reads of the best (or least despicable) selections from the previous day’s word count, by virtue of my daily writing regimen for the National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo).

NaNoWriMo Best of the Daily (5)

Haven’t written anything since Monday.  Must, keep, going.  Snagged this from first three days of NaNo.

     Participant-2014-Square-ButtonNow Terra fully knelt on the ground surface and began stretching her arms toward the bottles.  The lycra-carbide overalls counteracted the patches of ground that were more laden with magnetic substances and allowed her to scoot from side to side as she gathered them without her iron-rich blood pooling in her knees.  She rose with Maiden Hassium, but kept her head bent, now fixing her gaze on that broken shoelace at the boy’s feet. 


Tune in for quick reads of the best (or least despicable) selections from the previous day’s word count, by virtue of my daily writing regimen for the National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo).

More Malone Snippets – Chance Meeting with a Friend

Child picking nose. Oh - and a Smart Crossblade. - Flickr - exfordy

At the gala she saw Kaylee with her son, Echo, tagging along beside her.  She could tell Kaylee was excited to finally introduce her boy – of whom crayon drawings and amusing stories had abounded up to this point.  Kaylee reached for the socially appropriate hug while Malone shrank clumsily into a simple shoulder tag.  Kaylee smiled, entertained at Malone’s usual social awkwardness.

Looking down at Echo, Malone realized Kaylee was completely unaware of his tiny little finger, deeply rooted in his nostril, and rummaging around.  Malone broke into a huge grin at the boy – sun painted curls adorned his tan, freckled face – pure innocence at its best.  “Hey Echo!  Save some for me, huh?  How about it?” she smiled.  He was instantly charmed as evidenced by his beaming return smile, finger still planted in his face.

Finally recognizing the situation and feeling the impulse to be embarrassed – Kylee dropped his free hand and gently removed his digging finger, wiping it on her jeans.  But the contrast of Malone’s own social anxiety in comparison with her genuine appreciation for her son’s youth caught her at the heart level and she giggled … almost like a school girl.  It was completely unlike most encounters when her son’s childish antics made other adults uncomfortable and led to her hasty apology which always felt like a betrayal to her love for Echo.

More on the Being Touched Thing

What do you call a statement that is all at once true and not true?  For example, “I don’t like to be touched.”  This is not true when I’m at home, with my sweetheart, and in my comfort zone.  This is true when I’m anywhere else.  But there are moments when I’m tired, or stressed, or in some kind of alternate dimension caused by these or other things … when I don’t mind so much.

Here’s a question some might keep in their noggins when I explain this, but they never come right out and ask, “Were you abused when you were younger?”  I see them thinking it.  Or maybe I’m just projecting since I wonder, myself, why I am like this.  But I’m so terribly glad they don’t ever ask.  I mean, what does a socially inept creature like myself do in a situation like that?  “I … um … uh … well I don’t really know why I don’t like to be touched.”  That’s about the time I’d get a hot flash and they would think I’m blushing.  Damn stupid hormones, I tell ya’.

So since I’m writing, and writing is therapeutic, I’ll reason this out a bit.  I really think it’s a boundary thing.  Haven’t you ever had someone hug you that you weren’t too happy about learning their intricate nooks and crannies that really shouldn’t be pressed up on you like that?  Or how about the smells?  I concede that most people I encounter on a daily basis, lets say 99 percent of them, are perfectly appropriate for the nasal experience of closeness.  But that bad apple really stinks when you get right down to it.

The “human connection” resonates with me in all this, if you must know.  If I’m appalled at another person’s smell or “feel,” it’s usually because I fear those things in myself.  I may be the only person who does a smell check before heading out in the morning, even after a shower with multiple flavors of shower gel.  At this very moment I’m literally angry that my winter coat smells like a restaurant I visited over a week ago and I can’t get the smell out.  I don’t happen to keep a selection of winter coats in my closet.  So the bottom line is I smell when I wear that thing.  Maybe others don’t notice.  But I do and it’s enough to drive me batty.

Back to the touching thing.  What if the person is a very trim and fit individual?  Visually I can tell, they aren’t going to press anything against me I don’t want to feel if they zero in for a hug.  What if the tailored look of their clothes and the hair product they seem to be sporting indicates they are most likely of a delightful olfactory encounter?  What keeps me from the hug?  Well, don’t you see?  It’s not so much them I worry about.  Granted, I don’t worry about the misplaced boob, or the wrong angle and awkward placement of the arm.  See Hugging Coach for an explanation on this particular point.  But YES, dear reader, the “Ah ha” moment has occurred in this bit of writing.  On the off chance that it’s mid-day and I’ve done some sweating, or perhaps that food I ate ten minutes ago still lingers on my breath and I don’t hold it, or, oh dear heavens, what if …

It’s about me.  I don’t want to be offended by offending.  So please, if I’m witty and seem fully awake … just don’t touch.