ADMIN: Section 3 first draft extension - REALLY IMPORTANT

[beren_writes]

PLEASE READ - VERY IMPORTANTSection 3 first drafts are now due Thursday 19th Nov (due to certain work commitments which make this weekend a real pain in the rear [it looks like I'm going to be working until around 10pm today and I started at 7 am]). Artists will be given their assignments on Friday

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[di_glossia]

I know this is already long as anything but here is the bit I really wanted to offer as a sample:

The second race for Jan is with the girls’ eight. The difference is noticeable instantly: the girls are slower, their pace more sedate and their strength weak compared to the guys. It seems they get nowhere with each stroke and Jan is sitting hard on his desire to scream at them to stroke harder.

It takes almost twice as long to row out to the start dock. They line up, the volunteer clutching their stern as they wait for the others to show up. There are eight boats in this race, eight eights filling all lanes. Jan will have to take care not to stay in his unmarked lane. Women’s races are notorious for ‘crossing’ lanes and honestly cutting another boat off can be dangerous. It’s illegal, too, if the race officials can prove that it wasn’t an accident. Jan grips his lead line between his hands, the wooden toggles in his palms. He’ll have to direct out to the right side of the river and redirect to straight after a hundred meters to stay in his lane. The raceway is curved, the end completely invisible until five hundred meters in, nearly a third of the race, and then curving again for the last two hundred. It’s a nasty illusion, the rowers thinking they’ve finished the race when they still have a hundred meters to go.

Frederike is stroke and her fierce glare of attention is frightening so close to Jan’s face. He adjusts his headset, testing the Cox Box against the boat’s speakers. The alternating chirps of “ready, Jan” are disconcerting after the four’s snarls and snaps. Jan knows the girls are ready and that they’re sitting at attention but he just can’t let go of the feeling that they aren’t focused enough, that this race is going to be slower, more languorous, than the boys’ race.

Jan clears his throat and turns back to nod at the volunteer holding the boat in place. One of the other eights is drifting so much so that the race officials spend tense minutes arguing with the coxswain. The boat finally rights itself and the countdown begins.

“Trois! Deux! Un!”

And they’re off, slicing through the water as the girls smack their slides too hard. The check is only tolerably smooth, jerking forward only to slow as the slides fall into place. Jan grips the sides of his seat tightly, adjusting the rudder quickly to offset the girls’ course.

They’re flying over the water but they’re so behind Jan knows that they just aren’t going to win this race. Two of the girls are tiring, their strokes falling out of rhythm. As they near fourth place, almost nose to nose with the next boat over, the crowd screaming from the bank, Lara catches a crab. Her oar flies up out of her hands, Jan stares at it in shock as it catches deeper into the water and flings back up, hitting Lara in the forehead and slamming her backwards into Hannah, who screams as the oar hits her, too. Jan screams with all he’s got for the rowers to skim their oars- they have enough speed to coast and finish the race from here- and the boat slows. He can see blood running from Hannah’s nose as she holds it, crying loudly as the blood doesn’t stop but cascades down over her hands and onto her oar and lap. Lara’s apologizing, falling over her words as she twists back in her seat- Jan and Frederike scream at her to turn back before she upsets the boat but then it’s far too late and Hannah’s too upset.

The eight tips violently to starboard. The girls scramble to undo their footstraps and slide out as the boat tips over, the port oars cutting through the air before smacking into the water. Jan doesn’t see it. He is already underwater, busy yanking the Cox Box out before it disappears into the green depths of the lake. He can just barely see the girls swimming around him to the surface, the currents they create pushing against him, making it difficult to remember which way is up.

Someone grabs him by the waist and kicks furiously, dragging him upwards. Jan’s losing his breath. He clutches the Cox Box tightly. It would cost hundreds of Euros to replace and the team can’t afford a new one now. As the coxswain, the blame would fall on him for losing the precious equipment.

They break the surface and Jan is hauled to the upturned eight.