Day One:

i originally thought I wouldn't have time to write anything for the novel today. But, i got some major motivation last night and wrote my english paper that I was stressing over. The upside to that was I got to send it to him and he wrote me comments! yay! Overall, it was a good paper, or so he said, and I only need to change a few things. woo-hoo to that!

So vicky came down at 5ish and we went down to dinner. I got some major inspiration and unfortunately, she's just getting some...maybe... So, she's sitting on my futon clicking away as I write this. One chapter done tonight, and I am way excited.

The beginning will need work, but I am happy where its going. And of course, as I keep telling Vicky, this is simply a draft. Many edits and rewrites will come soon. I sometimes have to resist the urge to go back and change something. So i don't.

Anyways, the grand total for about 2 or so hours of writing was 4,615 words. It's about 8 page single spaced. Woo-hoo to me!

I'm not going to post chapters, but I will post snippets. this is from Rosalind's point of view:

I excused myself and walk to the edge of the crowd. The dark man had disappeared again. People were celebrating, and people were also drained in sadness over Richard’s death. As I watched, I felt the wind stir and rustle through my skirts. I held them tight and wound another hand into my hair. It was long and tangled, but I liked to feel it flow in the air and lift in freedom from my scalp. I closed my eyes again and breathed in deeply. The icy smell was harsher and tingled deep down into my throat.

“Keep your eyes closed.” His voice came from behind me, from within the darkness.

“Who are you?” My own voice sounded scared.

“You’ll find out sometime. Why do you sound afraid?” His voice gentled and I felt a hand rest on my hip. It wasn’t the awkward touch I felt from Cain, or harsh. It fit there.

“I don’t know who you are. I don’t talk to strange men.”

“I promise I’m not strange. Tell me what you smell.” I kept my eyes close tightly and inhaled deeply. I could smell him, the smell of a man who worked hard and struggled. Over his scent, I could smell the icy air, and the smell of the town.

“I smell our lives.” Again, I blushed, embarrassed by my own feelings. No one spoke this way, except for me. It always made me awkward and unsure.

“Don’t blush for speaking your feelings. You are who you are.” His mouth was against my ear and his breath brushed it gently. I shivered slightly and breathed slowly, calming my heartbeat. Who was this man….

I opened my eyes and turned around. He was gone again, but I smiled. There was someone who understood me, and didn’t laugh at my emotion. I knew no one like that.