Words written so far: 4302
Words to go: 45,698
Days left: 28
Today I set up my Nanowrimo novel on www.nanowrimo.org.
- Novel: Best Book Ever: A Story About Yes I Do Suck at Titles
- Genre: Mystery, Thriller & Suspense
Synopsis
Constantine Gideon is a failure at everything. Now nearly 40, Constantine has decided that he'll give his dream of being a bestselling author one last shot: except he has writer's block. But when he walks to Denny's one day to do his daily writing, he stumbles upon a body and his life changes forever. Will he use this murder to write a bestselling mystery novel, or will he instead by charged as an accessory to murder -if not murder one?Excerpt
"You're pretty and I like that you’re carrying a copy of Dostoyevsky," I said. She was a brunette with oversized glasses and a mustard cardigan, and she blushed as she sat back in her chair. "Do you want to go out sometime? Maybe get coffee. Like now, except we'll go out... Like deliberately intending on getting coffee... But together."
I know it sounds like an unsuccessful opener, but then two things happened: first, she giggled and avoided eye contact, and then she said, "You're cute." It was like high school: no one's called me cute in like 15 years.
"Is that a yes?" She nodded. "Yeah? Ok, cool. Can I sit?” She nodded again so I did. She looked to my hands –empty, except for the cup of coffee- and then returned to fleeting eye contact. "If you have your phone on you, I can put in my phone number."
She said it like a question.
"Oh, uh, I don't have a cell phone."
"Oh."
"Yeah, I'm a Luddite."
She tilted her head like an alert, questioning dog.
So I said it again. "A Luddite. Yeah, I don't participate in anything that requires technology. No computer, no cell phone... My car is from 1986. Might as well be 1886.” I chuckled but she didn’t respond. “Yeah, because there’s no computerization in the dash. You know, back when everything was mechanical and we still supported manufacturing jobs in the U.S…”
"Oh." Now I couldn't tell if she was confused or unimpressed.
So I went for it. "Actually, it's probably good if we have this conversation now. I mean, you're cute and I'd really like to get to know you. I think we'd be great together, because I just get this feeling sometimes. Kinda like I got this feeling that my best friend would die in a motorcycle accident -which he did- or that Facebook would change the way we interacted with each other. I just get these feelings."
"Facebook? Wait -I thought you were a Ludda-something."
"Luddite. Yeah. But just because I don't use technology doesn't mean I don't know what it is." She made that confusing face again. "But, no, this is good we’re having this conversation. I mean, I think you should be your most honest at the start of a relationship, don’t you think? No false advertising?” Her face was motionless, maybe still confused. “Yeah, okay, so here’s honesty. I’m almost 40, I work at Book World, and I’m a novelist.”
“Ooh, a novelist?” She smiled again. “What’s your novel about?”
“Actually, I just quit that novel. It… didn’t work. It was about a Jujitsu master who became an alcoholic but then rededicated his life to brain science. Yeah, there was too much going on in it so I’m putting it away for a while.”
“That’s too bad.”
“I’ll return to it one day, when the writer’s block is over.”
“You have writer’s block?”
“I do. See here? Honesty. Yeah, I have writer’s block, but I’m looking for a new story idea to break me out of it.”
She shifted in her seat.
“Oh, no, I wouldn’t use you to break me out of writer’s block. I mean, I’ve done that before in relationships and –huh- whoa, that didn’t work.” I could see she was getting more uncomfortable, so I chose a different direction. “Okay, other honest things. I hate video games, superhero movies, and sports. I think peanut M&Ms are awesome and addictive like crack, and my favorite movie is 2001: Space Odyssey.”
“Wait, you said you were almost 40?” Her pretty brown eyes were squinty now.
“39 to be exact. Okay, go, your turn.”
“Ok-ay.” She might have sounded unsure. “My name is Melisma-“
“Oh, like the melodies in baroque music?”
She smiled. “Yeah. Wow. You’re the first person I’ve ever met who knows that.”
I shrugged and smiled. “What else?”
“And I think…” She started tapping ochre colored nails on the formica table. Then, eye contact. Strong eye-contact. “And I think that though I’m ten years younger than you, I’m too old to deal with a guy who picks up girls at coffee shops who’s maturity is stunted at 14 years old. Sorry.” Then, she and Dostoyevsky left.
Well, it wasn’t a complete loss of fifteen minutes: I got a table out of it and while a few suckers over there don’t know where to sit.
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