I had good intentions last year. I got about 95 pages in, even!!
But I did not finishe my NaNoWriMo. With a toddler, a husband, and a full-time job...writing a novel in a month just doesn't happen. And I'm not willing to sacrifice sleep, soooo...
Now, however, I find myself back in November with the next NaNoWriMo starting today. So what do I do? Start a new novel? Skip it?
Neither. I'm going to continue what I started last year. If I finish it, great! If I don't, fine! I'll know what I'm working on next November!
What I started writing last year was a book called Dust and Ashes. As many people who know me know, I love zombies. Terrified of them. But I love them. So I started to write a zombie book. It's actually not as much about zombies as I expected, but that's the nature of writing a novel. Just when you think you know what it's about, it changes course and surprises you.
So I believe that I shall continue working on it and see what happens. In the mean time, for your reading pleasure, Part One of my book. Consider it a mini-prologue, if you will...
Part One: The Mistake
Dr. Xavier Flynn looked down at the bright, white toes of his orthopedic sneakers. His wife had insisted it was time to start wearing something with more support, and he had to admit he had been limping less of late. He chose not to admit that wearing sneakers made him feel young again, and he had haphazardly flirted with one of the lab interns last week.
Now, his bright, white toes were sprinkled with the gray and green flakes that had previously been cultivating in a Petri dish. Said Petri dish was on the floor in front of his shoes, cracked down the middle, the lid popped off and resting halfway across the room.
“You okay, Dr. Flynn?”
Dr. Flynn looked up and smoothed his features, crafting a patronizing smile for Collin Englewood. Collin was staring at him through goggles that magnified his curious eyes to Coke-bottle proportions. He was also trying to control the twitching of his mouth as it desperately tried to form a smirk. Trying and failing. Dr. Flynn could see the young scientist’s battle to keep a straight face and hated the pompous little twit just a little more than usual.
“Just fine, dear boy.” And Dr. Flynn grinned inwardly and outwardly at the sneer Collin gave the condescending moniker before turning back to his notes and beaker. “Just fine.”
Dr. Flynn not, in fact, just fine. He watched as the green and gray dust spread from small mites into a spider web of mold before turning white and flaking away. C-143x had gone airborne.
Cleaning up the now empty Petri dish, Dr. Flynn shoved it in the pocket of his lab coat. He reached into the containment unit and reshuffled the remaining dishes so that, at first glance, nothing was amiss.
The first tickles hit his throat but he forced back a cough. His heart palpitated and he wasn’t sure if it were because of the spreading infection or the spreading fear.
Busying himself for a couple of minutes, Dr. Flynn made a show of checking his watch.
“Collin, my boy, this old man is going to call it a day. Be sure to catalog the rest of the P2XC cultures before you leave for the day.”
Ignoring the scowl Collin gave him, Dr. Flynn walked out of the lab. He waved at the security guard as he drove through the final checkpoint.
When he got home, he kissed his wife of forty-three years before shooting her and then himself in the head.