Monday 3 November 2008

NaNoWriMo Excerpts

So, for anyone who doesn't know - which I think is no one, but there we are - for NaNoWriMo this year I'm doing the Great and Long Prophesied Re-Draft of Cymru. I won't be putting it onto ScribblePit simply because it's going to be eye-gougingly poor; I am, after all, attempting 50,000 words in thirty days. More than 50,000, in fact, because three days into the damn thing I'm thinking it's going to take far more than 50,000 words to tell the story, so I've upped my daily word-count rather ambitiously to 2500. The upshot of this is the first draft of a novel I will get out of it. The downshot, if such a concept exists, is the poorest quality of the written word since language was first invented. Rest assured that it won't remain this blindingly bad. I will ultimately edit it heavily.

Which brings me to my point: as I say, no full story, but I will be posting excerpts. They won't necessarily be any good, but hopefully they'll at least be marginally interesting teasers so people will actually want to read it and help me edit it in December. Fingers crossed, eh? Anyway, Jackanory.

AWEN

"What is 'home', in the hearts of humans?"

The voice cut softly, fluidly, through the still morning air, overlaying the melody of the bird-song and the quiet footfalls of a single pair of boots on the crunching, frozen grass. The scent of the dawn hung thickly all about her, heavy and fresh and sweet in her nostrils and somehow muffling all other sounds, apart from the teasing riddle. Awen smiled and kept walking. She didn't look around.

"Sanctuary," she responded calmly. Her own voice sounded almost too loud in the stillness around her, as though she were intruding on something. It would all be very different in a few short hours, when the farmers headed into Casnewydd proper for the festival and the merchants rolled by with their laden carts; but for now, the wide, grassy path leading down into the valley was all for Awen, and the riddling creature behind her.

He chuckled, voice dancing on the breeze.

"Well played, Rider," he murmured. "As ever. But as ever, questions beget more questions."

"As ever," Awen agreed mildly. It was an indisputable point in these conversations.

"Are you headed for sanctuary now, Rider?"

"I am," Awen nodded. "Of a sort."

"Oh?"

"Solace," she amended. "Which, as shelter from a conceptual hunter, counts as a form of sanctuary."

"What do you flee?"

"Weariness," Awen said quietly. "Despair. Futility."

"Despair cannot be sheltered from," he said lightly. "Only armed against."

"Perhaps," Awen conceeded. "I might argue that shelter is a way of mentally arming oneself, however."

"And what is your shelter, Rider?"

Awen stopped, and turned to look at him. He was lounging against the ancient wooden fencing that seperated the path from the pasture beside them, all long limbs and easy grace. His hair was black today, and long to his collar, a neatly trimmed beard lining a delicately pointed chin. His nose was delicately aquiline, bisecting high cheekbones and finishing above a pair of fully sculpted lips, currently quirked in a smile. He wore a regal outfit, brocade in a green strongly reminiscent of the dyes from Caerleuad and long waxed boots to the knee that might have made Awen wonder how she never heard him walking beside her if she hadn't known better. His eyes watched her, yellow and gold and gleaming.

"Whose face is that?" she asked, dodging the question.

He smiled broadly.

"Providence," he said slyly. "And, seemingly, digression. What arms you against despair, Rider? Is it that farmhouse down there? The cawl waiting in its pot? The woman you call Mother? Or is it this?"

He spread his arms, and the scents and sights and sounds of the morning around her became abruptly vivid, a glorious symphony of surroundings. Awen didn't answer for a few moments, simply basking in it; and then the world faded back into normality, the man watching her.

She could have answered, but he clearly already knew it.

4 comments:

Jester said...

That is really beautiful and poetic and lovely. I shall thoroughly enjoy reading the whole thing in December (peer pressure to finish it---).

I love the idea of excerpts and shall now shamelessly copy you.

Jom said...

Dreadfully embarrassed I haven't read the rest of this so I'm devoid of context. More fool me.

This is gorgeous. Shape changing enigmatic man is awesome, the fact he looks like Steff is even more brilliant. I wonder whether Cymru is vaguelly autobiographical...

For the record, it's been my intention since I found out you were re-drafting Cymru to read the second draft. It's why I haven't given you my first Nanowrimo novel to read because I want you to read the second, better version if and when I write it, if and when you want to read it.

As it stands, I'm looking forward to reading the rest of Cymru in this form. Did i mention it's gorgeous? Your writing is very lyrical.

Steffan said...

Lovely! I love Awen. Mind you, is this the beginning proper, or only Awen's beginning? I ask simply because of Enigmatic Unnamed Character. You handle it well, but it's always a touchy subject, I feel.

Thinking about it, it's a very quiet beginning. I'm not sure how I feel about it. I liked that, in the original posts, the world of Cymru was very grouned. Yes, it had flying horses, but these were very realistic characters. I'm not quite as taken with this philosophical intellectual conversation. Nice characterisation for Awen, maybe, but it loses the idea that these could easily be your mates. It puts her on a pedestal, and when she's already a RIDER WITH A FLYING HORSE, I'm not sure it's necessary.

Quoth the Raven said...

This is Awen's beginning. There will be two, maybe three chapters first - Dylan's section (the next one I've posted) comes first. Concerning tone: once it's done the tone will be the same as in the original, or as close to as I can get it. It's only really this tone when Enigmatic Unnamed Character is there, otherwise she's Awen as we know and love her.