Endocrime – excerpt

Kay Camden, a regular reader of my blog asked yesterday if I’d post an excerpt from my NaNo piece. Because it was Kay who who asked, I’ll do it! Here is a short paragraph from ‘Endocrime‘, the story of a man who may be going mad.

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Though I want to pour another coffee, I decide to transcribe one more recording from the Doc. That way I can appease my conscience when I take a break. I reach for the computer’s mouse, guide the arrow on the screen to its target, then click on the file.
A woman’s voice comes through the speakers this time. I adjust the volume before restarting the recording, fingers hovering above the keyboard.

I don’t think I’ll be seeing you anymore, Doc. I don’t think you can help me. See, it’s all a lie. A conspiracy. You’re part of it. I know you’re going to deny it, so don’t even say anything. I prefer you don’t lie to me right now. That’ll just make me angrier. I’m not alone, Doc – if you even are a doctor – I’m not alone. There are thousands just like me out there. I’ve found them. They can help me. I’m not going to disclose any more about how I found them or where they are. I don’t trust you. But I trust them. We’ve been talking. They understand everything about me. They know. They’ve told me so many things that make sense of my so-called problem. They’ve told me about the master plan. Oh, yeah. Look at you. Poker face and all. Like you don’t have a clue what I’m talking about. You fucking asshole. You’re not here to help me. You’re here to regain control. I’ve slipped through your little net and it’s time you reeled me in again. I know about you and the pharmacies and the government and your plans. Well guess what? You’re not going to control me. It’s a free country. I don’t have to see you or take those tablets you give me. Oh, you think I don’t know about those tablets? How they are designed to stop me from thinking? To stop me from seeing the truth? How they block the most important psychic functions of my brain? Well, fuck you and your little tablets. I’m not going to take them no more. No more, you hear me?

Catching Up

My writing contributions here will be sporadic until next week. I’m trying to catch up with reading you wonderful people who carried me this month.  Still, I will add photos on most days I don’t post my writing.

Here’s one from my phone cam taken this evening – it’s raining. Yaaaaaaaaay!

Photographer: Andrew Robson
Copyright: 2011

and the heart of the sky was a rainbow pulsating in glorious colours

Dancer

Model: Helga Schlenter
Photographer: Andrew Robson
Copyright: 2009

Though she dances with the dark, she dances in the light.

Beginning

Unless you know the ending, what the hell difference does it make where you begin the story?  And because neither you nor I know where this is going to end up, I might as well start on a rainy morning, just like any other in this godforsaken town that has been dressed up like a cheap hooker.  When clouds gather in the air above the tall buildings, the first thing that happens is the ability of us mortals caught down below to breathe within the venous networks of asphalt, spit and plastic becomes damn near impossible.  The build up of pressure within the air achieves a point at which one can reach out and push back against the invisible bubble.  Those daft enough to be caught out of doors at such a time will find they have sweat so much their clothes are soaked without any rain having fallen.  Then a single icy gust will whip down the concrete valleys to announce the imminence of the first drops of rain.  And those first drops are always tentative, almost apologetic, but they are soon pushed out of the way by massive, angry bullets of water straining against gravity to find something, anything, to smash into so that they can be liberated into a thousand little droplets which inevitably rediscover one another in streams that rush into the storm drains grinning beside the sidewalks.

Lilly’s Way

I have needed to stretch my writing muscles a bit this week and write something completely different from my NaNo piece. So here it is – me just going for a short jog.

Look at me, she said in the voice of a thousand burnt out stars. Look at me. I am woman.
The universe was a hotel bar in a neighbourhood so seedy that if it became fertile nobody would see trees for forests. The lights were permanently set to half past sunset, while the eyes of the patrons idled in parking bays for the disabled.
You buy me a beer, handsome? she cooed in a crow’s voice.
Listen, lady, I tell her, it’s a downward spiral when you start drinking on the job.
When the Devil’s your boss, it’s a requirement, she comes back.
Nice, I say and wave the barkeep, who looks like he could be the lover of the bride of Frankenstein, over with a finger. When he moves, it looks like his body parts belong to a human, but I wonder if they are living.
Give the dame a drink, I order him, and make mine a double.
His brown-toothed smirk tells me all I need to know. He thinks he’s seen it all before. I feel like telling him he ain’t, but he looks like he could do with one last surprise in his life, so I keep my mouth shut and pull out a handful of coins and spill them onto the bar counter. Should keep him occupied a while.
Sures hope you got more than that down there, the old sweetheart says.
Sure I do, I wink back at her, then pull out my cigarettes and matches. I light up. Through the blue plumes of smoke curling in on themselves like serpents trapped in a dream, I see a man seated at a table in a darkened corner. My mouth twitches at the sight of him. He watches me closely.
The barkeep slams two drinks onto the counter with a grin before he sweeps up the change in a surprisingly dextrous movement. He turns and limps away without as much as a glance backwards. The dolly next to me nearly tumbles over the bar, she reaches for her beer with such urgency, like it’s going to grow legs and walk away. I take my drink. Golden. Iced. I clink my glass into the beer bottle.
To us, she says.
You bet, I say. I take a slug. Goddamn tequila. I pucker, holding a sharp inhalation of alcoholic fumes in my lungs. I close my eyes and feel the liquor run into my bloodstream. It is exhilarating. When I open my eyes again, I ask, What’s your name?
Lilly, she says. Like the flower.
Beautiful, I say. You come here often?
You could say so, she says.
Who’s the fool in the corner?
Never seen him before, she doesn’t even bother to look in his direction.
Looking to get laid tonight, Lilly? I ask.
With the lights on, she says.
I consider her.
And I know some knots not even you’d get out of, she continues, leaning in so that she can mumble in my ear. Her breath odour is a concoction of beer, meat and cheap lipstick.
I nod my head.
I’m always game for a challenge, I say, glancing up and staring directly into her blue eyes admiring me in the mirror hung on the wall behind the bar counter. I drag deeply on my cigarette then throw back the tequila.
Yo! I yell at the barkeep. Two more over here. And one for the gentleman in the corner over there.

50k

(Badge courtesy of fellow nanoteamindy member Dave Farmer)

50220 words
17 days
+- 62.5 hours of total writing
+- 3.5 hours of writing a day (I have a full-time job)

I am extremely proud of my achievement.
I have completed my first ever attempt at National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), an international challenge for writers around the globe to write 50 000 words or more in 30 days.
This is day 17 of the challenge. The total word count for all participants stands at 1 710 527 045. That’s right, over one-and-a-half billion words written in less than 17 full days.
My story is not yet complete. I will continue to write until it is finished. Then, of course, comes the rewrite and numerous edits. Or not. I am as of yet undecided if I will tidy this piece up and try sell it as a novel. Time will tell.

I must thank each nanoteamindy member for their support. And to all of those of you who have been leaving comments and likes on my blog this month. I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude to all of you, because you truly did keep me motivated in my darkest hours. And there were more than a few of those!

I suspect I am the only Namibian participant this year.  I may be the only Namibian participant ever.  I will try to find out more.

For now, I am tired. But very, very happy.

Self-Portrait XIIVX

Day 16 of NaNoWriMo. My total word count is on 44425.
Thank you to all of those of you who leave comments of support here – I do see them and will get to responding soon. Your comments help make a difference!!!

Photography – Andrew Robson
Model – Andrew Robson
Artwork – Jost Kirsten
Copyright – Andrew Robson 2008

Kitchen

Day 15 of NaNoWriMo. My total word count is on 41138.
Thank you to all of those of you who leave comments of support here – I do see them and will get to responding soon. Your comments help make a difference!!!

Photography – Andrew Robson
Copyright – Andrew Robson 2011

What I need – a kitchen of creativities.

Building

Day 14 of NaNoWriMo.  My total word count is on 38777.
Thank you to all of those of you who leave comments of support here – I do see them and will get to responding soon. Your comments help make a difference!!!

Photography – Andrew Robson
Copyright – Andrew Robson 2011

… turned to me and asked, “And what do you reflect back onto the world?”

Seagulls & Words

As you probably know by now, I’m diving into the madness called NaNoWriMo for the month of November. That means I’ll hardly have time to write on my blog. It also means that I’ll post a bunch of my photographs instead.

I’d like to apologise in advance to all of you whose blogs I regularly read and comment on that I’ll not be doing so for a month. So it doesn’t mean I’ve unfollowed you if you don’t hear from me – only that I’m fretting over a ridiculous daily word count.
I’ll be back to my normal routine again in December.

Today is day 10 of NaNoWriMo. I added 3038 words since yesterday’s post bringing my total up to 30167. Another tough day at the office, so to speak.
Thank you to all of those of you who leave comments of support here – I do see them and will get to responding soon. Your comments help make a difference!!!

Photography – Andrew Robson
Copyright – Andrew Robson 2009

These gulls represent the words in my brain right now.