NaNo: Blessed quiet, time to work

I came awake with a start after dreaming that I’d woken up when my husband got up to go to the bathroom. He was still in bed, as was the dog, and neither one was coughing. I panicked a moment, wondering if there was a problem, but they both blinked when I slipped out of bed and went to the bathroom. Checked on Mama and she’s not coughing. Miracle of miracles, wonder of wonders!

But did I TCOB and then go back to bed? No, I checked my chapter’s status in that silly Gather contest and then typed on my NaNo novel. None of the NaNo is ready for prime time.

So here’s an excerpt of a few snatches of dialogue from a freewriting session. Pray take and examine, that it might amuse thee.
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“I’ve heard nothing but criticism from my vicious aunt this holiday, and my favorite bowl just got broken by somebody’s brat,” Courtney shouted at the closed-and-locked bathroom door, “so if YOU cannot handle a simple request to leave the sage out of the turkey dressing, then YOU are not the woman I thought you were.”

Shrieks echoed into the sink beyond the door. Her sister Sydney was definitely not planning to come out and co-host this Thanksgiving dinner, as promised. That rat.

“Pardon me.” A vaguely familiar-looking man–someone’s date, Courtney thought she remembered–tapped her shoulder. “Then who IS she, because I need to page her and get in to use this relief station. Unless you have another?”

“Turn left at the top of the stairs,” she said. The unmistakable aroma of something burning reached her. “Oh, God.”

“No need to address me as God,” said the man, rushing for the stairs. “Your Highness will do fine.”

She got into the kitchen just as smoke began pouring out of the toaster oven.

“Journalists consider their efforts the “first draft of history,” her newspaper-editor cousin Kara was informing the group.

The group snorted as one and fell to the carpet laughing. “They definitely need to get over themselves,” said one of the teenagers.

Cousin Kara stuck her nose in the air, looking miffed. “Well, I declare. We most of us devote enormous effort to ensuring the accuracy and fairness of what we report.”

“Fair and balanced,” shrieked the teenager’s mom–one of Mama’s cousins?–sending the group rolling again with another paroxysm of laughter.

“This gathering took off from Crazy Station at four AM and quickly passed the outer moons of Jupiter on its way to some distant galaxy,” Courtney muttered as she pulled the ruined rolls out of the oven. “Has anyone seen Jake? He was watching these for me.”

“Who? Oh, you mean that guy who just left with the tall anorexic witch with four-inch stilettos and black talons?”

Oops. “I should’ve known it wasn’t about the dressing,” she said as she dumped the rolls into the trash. There should be another package somewhere . . . she shouldn’t have heated them up this soon, anyway. . . .


Author: shalanna

Shalanna: rhymes with "Madonna" and "I wanna," and is not a soundalike with "Hosanna" or "Sha-Na-Na." Aging hippie with long hair, husband, elderly mother, and yappy Pomeranian. I've been writing since I could hold a crayon. I started with fiction, which Mama said was "lying." “Don’t tell stories,” she would admonish, in Southern vernacular. “That's all in your imagination!” When grownups said this, they were not approving. So, shamed, I stopped telling stories for a few years--rather, I stopped letting anyone read them. I'm married to a fellow computer nerd who doesn't really like hearing about writing, but who reads sf/fantasy and understands the creative drive. I'm actually a nonconformist/hippie still wearing bluejeans and drop earrings and the Alice-in-Wonderland hair with headbands and sandals. Favorite flavor is chocolate/orange, favorite color is either Dreamsicle orange (cantaloupe) or bubble-gum pink, favorite musical is either Bye Bye Birdie, Rocky Horror, or The Producers . . . wait, I also love The Music Man. Is this getting way too specific and irrelevant yet? Obvious why I don't sell a ton of flash fiction, isn't it? To define oneself, I always say, it is good to make a list. How about a booklist? Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird Frank and Ernestine Gilbreth, Cheaper by the Dozen C.S.Lewis, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (all the Narnia books) J.R.R.Tolkien,The Hobbit/LORD OF THE RINGS trilogy Gail Godwin, The Odd Woman F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby J. D. Salinger, Catcher in the Rye (before dismissing it, actually read it) George Orwell, 1984 Kurt Vonnegut, Cat's Cradle Donna Tartt, The Secret History Mark Twain, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn James Allen, As A Man Thinketh Mark Winegardner, Elvis Presley Boulevard James Thurber, My Life and Hard Times The Wizard of Oz, L. Frank Baum Winnie-the-Pooh/House at Pooh Corner, A. A. Milne Peter Pan, J. M. Barrie The KJV and NIV Bible (each translation has its glories)

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