Blog for budding Sheikhspeares entering National Novel Writing Month 2006

November 23, 2006

Woooo, over the 40k mark

After a Herculean session yesterday, where I wrote 3k words after work, I have crossed the magical 40k line. The end is certainly in sight, and I no longer care about whether my story is good, bad or ugly - it's just nearly over. 7 days to write the last 10k words. An edited excerpt, again with a strategically placed * to keep the proxy happy.

Libby was dragging her heels into work. Somehow, the thought of another day of dealing with delinquent clients and facing up to Marina just didn’t feel like what she had signed up for when she joined a London advertising agency as a trainee copywriter. In those days, it had all been champagne and cocaine, with tales of creative directors frittering away huge location budgets on mischief in a foreign location. The advertising industry here was beyond backward. Talent levels were low while corruption levels were high. The clients were, on the whole, uneducated, unmotivated and rude.

She walked into the office, started up her Mac and got ready to check her emails. To her surprise, Jack put his head around the door. Subconsciously Libby checked her watch and Jack laughed. “What the hell are you doing in so close to nine in the morning,” asked Libby. “Have we got a client pitch that I’ve forgotten about? Or is my watch wrong?”

“Neither,” said Jack. “I thought I would get in bright and early to keep you on your toes – and also to tell you that my charm, good looks and amazing talent in the sack have forced our esteemed boss to give me some very interesting industry gossip. The information is worth a lunch, so you’re taking me out to The Westminster for a long, boozy meal today, one o’clock.”

then later ..........

Jack’s eyes were starting to glaze over, and his conversation was getting more risqué. They had always enjoyed suggestive banter, much as Libby had done with all her male friends. Suddenly, it was starting to move from suggestive into seductive. The waitresses were clearing away the tables and what was left of the buffet when she realised they were the only ones left in the restaurant.

“Do you want to go to the bar and have a couple more drinks?” asked Libby.

“No. I want to go and book a room and take you upstairs. Fancy a sh*g?”

She went to the bathrooms to check her teeth for remnants of lunch, and used one of the fluffy white flannels to try and scrub her teeth clean. She swilled her mouth out with the complimentary mouthwash, undid another button of her shirt, and fluffed up her hair.


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