I finished Spellbound!! On Monday evening, I finished writing the last chapter. The rough draft is complete! Woooow. I started writing this in Dec 2012. In April, after 51,000 words, it went under a MAJOR revision. In rough draft, having been completely and 100% rewritten, it stands at just over 57k. I can still consider this a WIP, though, because there’s a mountain of editing it now needs to undergo.
I have felt really happy and light today. I gave myself permission, even for the NaNo WriMo, to not write today. I did some editing, but no writing. And my reward? I bought the Mario 64 game from the Wii store and have been playing it. I also went out to the Pizza Factory. It’s been an awesome day.
Now, for today, I wanted to give you guys a longer excerpt, continuing on about James and Rachel, but . . . your responses about Rachel gave me a different idea on how to end their relationship. Especially because I have now finished the rough draft, I can tie some things in a little better. But there’s a piece of this excerpt that I didn’t have enough time to iron out, so it will be smallish instead, and you get to stay tuned for next week when I present the rest of James and Rachel.
It’s six paragraphs. My WIPpet math follows the zombie apocalypse of number 8 being infected from last time. November is the eleventh month, and you know what happens when a zombie bites you. You turn into a zombie. Then someone else turns into a zombie. So number 8 last week turned into a zombie three and zombie three scratched number 11, so 11 is mutating and the formation changed to a 6…. and beware people, zombie 3 and almost-zombie 6 are out to get you….
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James hid behind a mask, both figuratively and literally. As a teenager, he tried to follow his friends and pretended to like girls. He’d thought maybe, just maybe, his own hormones would kick in if he’d tried hard enough. They hadn’t, though, at least not for women. There were quite a few guys that had worked his heart up into his throat, but as much as he had hoped, none of them had ever returned the stare.
That’s when he really knew that he was unusual, and it wasn’t changing.
Rachel was different, though. She had been the only woman he’d ever really tried to make himself change for. He’d thought that maybe he could make it work. He enjoyed her company, her personality, and even her kisses. Except
. . . when the passion spiked and her hands started to roam, panic always set in. Every. Single. Time.
There wasn’t anything there. No physical arousal, no heated blood, nothing.
He thought he had been successful in hiding the lack of manifestations because—though confused and clearly disappointed—Rachel never argued his alibi of being shy. The excuse had always worked like a charm with past girlfriends that wanted to explore the realm of physical intimacy, so he had no reason to believe Rachel would be any wiser. If she wanted more, she could be like the others and just dump him.
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