That statement deserves its own line. It is a thought to be savored. I love my novel.
I don't know if it's a feeling I have ever felt so thoroughly. Of course, I adore all of my novels. Each of them brings me great joy and excitement, but I don't think any of them has ever brought me this much of those two things.
I have no idea what makes this story different. Maybe it's how the plot line formed so perfectly or how my characters developed into people so quickly, but I don't think either of those were lacking from my other stories. It's not even that I'm getting more words down. I'm not rushing to write anymore than I usually do though I do seem to always know what I'm going to put on the page when I sit my butt in this chair.
Still, I'm getting an itching feeling that this just might maybe possibly be the one.
To see if you agree with me, I'm going to leave you with a short excerpt of exactly 266 words. Keep in mind that it is a rough draft. Note also that the words "agts," "ymsir," and "geya" are gEyarian words, which means the second letter is pronounced first.
I have also included my latest NaNoWriMo vlog at the bottom of this post in case you were curious about the technicalities of my journey.
So Zoie looked over the banister down at the tree. She saw a most peculiar thing.(If you would like to see more, shorter excerpts, please remember to check out my Tumblr: brookerbusse.tumblr.com.)
A man was rapidly growing from one of the lowest branches. Squeezing through the tiny stems could not have been comfortable because he was squirming terribly, thrashing about and hitting the trunk, which had caused the groaning noise Zoie had heard.
Deciding he was no immediate threat, Zoie leaned one of her elbows across the railing, her sword hanging down at her side and watched. It took quite some time before he was completely out, but he was still attached to the tree. He was grasping at the top of his head madly, his face swelling with the pressure of not making any noise.
Zoie decided it was time for her to move. Making sure she could not be seen from below, she moved to the stairs that curved along the outside of the building. She passed through the middle two floors while the man was still trying to detach himself from the tree. Her foot had just touched the tile floor of the bottom level when the man finally fell to the ground.
He jumped straight back up again, straightening the very expensive suit he was wearing. His back was to her and he did not even bother to look over his shoulder.
“aGts,” he breathed.
She touched the very tip of her sword lightly to his back, right between the shoulder blades. “Watch your language in my house, ymsir.”
“aGts,” he said again, much louder this time. He glanced over his shoulder at her and smiled. “Sorry, geya.”