Writing, writing, writing
I'm back in business at least for tonight of writing. I started all over again because I hated everything I've written the past year and a half and so far it's working out well. So I'm kind of stealing what lilplaiddress does and sharing my progress with said novel.
Word count: 17,705/75,000
Two little snid bits:
I slightly turned down the volume on the radio, not really wanting to miss the guitar rift after the first verse and said into the phone, “If you’re going to leave me for a stripper, her name better be Candy.”
“Stripper?” my mother asked. I cringed. Note to self: Always check the caller ID before picking up the phone. “What on Earth are you talking about?”
“Uh…” My voice started to crack. “Nothing. Just a little radio bit Brett was doing. What’s going on?”
“Radio bit? You mean we're on the radio? Why didn’t you tell me? I would have made myself more proper,” she said.
I turned on my blinker and shot into the heavy traffic on the freeway. “You’re not on the radio, mom. Even if you were, they wouldn’t be able to see you so looking proper wouldn’t matter. Brett was just…nevermind.” I shook my head. Any conversation with my mother always dragged out for an hour and the last thing I wanted to discuss were strippers. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”
“You always knew how to make an introduction,” the guy said with a laugh. The way he talked, the certain twang in his voice sounded so familiar. “And she’s speechless? Wow. Ain’t that somethin’.”
I should have recognized that back wood accent from anywhere. I slowly raised my head, not believing the irony in this. “You have got to be kidding me,” I groaned.
Out of the one thousand, four hundred and seventy-five people in this town, it just had to be Memphis Jack standing in front of me.
**On a side note, besides writing my MC, Memphis is my other favorite character to write. It took me forever to figure him out, but now that I do, he's pretty awesome.
Word count: 17,705/75,000
Two little snid bits:
I slightly turned down the volume on the radio, not really wanting to miss the guitar rift after the first verse and said into the phone, “If you’re going to leave me for a stripper, her name better be Candy.”
“Stripper?” my mother asked. I cringed. Note to self: Always check the caller ID before picking up the phone. “What on Earth are you talking about?”
“Uh…” My voice started to crack. “Nothing. Just a little radio bit Brett was doing. What’s going on?”
“Radio bit? You mean we're on the radio? Why didn’t you tell me? I would have made myself more proper,” she said.
I turned on my blinker and shot into the heavy traffic on the freeway. “You’re not on the radio, mom. Even if you were, they wouldn’t be able to see you so looking proper wouldn’t matter. Brett was just…nevermind.” I shook my head. Any conversation with my mother always dragged out for an hour and the last thing I wanted to discuss were strippers. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”
“You always knew how to make an introduction,” the guy said with a laugh. The way he talked, the certain twang in his voice sounded so familiar. “And she’s speechless? Wow. Ain’t that somethin’.”
I should have recognized that back wood accent from anywhere. I slowly raised my head, not believing the irony in this. “You have got to be kidding me,” I groaned.
Out of the one thousand, four hundred and seventy-five people in this town, it just had to be Memphis Jack standing in front of me.
**On a side note, besides writing my MC, Memphis is my other favorite character to write. It took me forever to figure him out, but now that I do, he's pretty awesome.