I feel horrible for not getting anything done with my story...I realize how much I miss NaNo. NaNo was just that prod, that burning iron in my back that pushed me forward. No matter how much I squirm, or fought back, that prod pushed me further and further down the treacherous path of my novel.
And that right there told me I need to be writing. I normally don't go into that much detail over something that trivial. I need to write. I want to wright. So why don't I?
I don't know why. I just won't settle down and actually /write/. I need to.
Okay, now I'm sounding repetitive. I think the reason why I am hesitant to start out with Kyle and Maeve is because right after NaNo I started with another story. I wrote about three pages, and-I don't say this often-but it was really good. As in, really good. The description was unique and spot on, creative and fun to read. It was just perfect.
Then my computer went through a power outage and I lost everything. I had to completely re-write those pages, and what I rewrote was nothing like the original. Of course since I can't see the original, I think of it has perfectly sent from heaven while it really wasn't. I guess I was still mourning the loss of my work when I rewrote, and now all I can do is look upon the story with disgust. I like the plot, it grew out of a daydream (as all my plots do), and it was actually based around one scene that was playing over and over in my head.
A young girl-teen-is dressed in dirty, wet clothes, a loose fitting white tunic over ill fitting brown pants. Her hair hangs, dirty and unwashed over her dirt-smudged face. Her shinning blue eyes glare out defiantly, which fear hiding in them. She is surrounded by a circle of men who resemble Native Americans. They are outside, close to a river. She is almost bent over, fearful turning in a circle, trying to keep her fear off of her face. They intend to sell her as a slave, she was captured by a man who is in the circle. The man brought her here, and then displayed this stranger to the rest of the slave traders. They had never seen a girl like her, with her fair skin and dark orange hair. She knows their intentions (though I'm not sure if she understands their language) and fears gives her the energy to break away, struggling out of one of their grasps and running towards the river, away from them. They chase after her, and when the reach the river she plunges in. Only one is close enough now, the others have all stayed behind. He plunges in behind her, and catches her. Because it is shallow, he stands, one hand securely on her arm. To teach her a lesson (after all, she is to be a slave and rebellion is not tolerated) he pushes her almost carelessly under. After waiting until her trashing stops, he yanks her up. She is not dead, but severely shaken to say the least. Even though she is shaken, she still is rebellious. Her arm is wet, and slips out of his hold when he exists the water. She takes advantage of this, and bolts off, down the river. There is a horse (she doesn't know why at the time) that is taking a drink, just a little ways down. She's crazed with fear and the shock of the near death, so she is yelling at the horse, yelling it to stop, stay there and let her get on and then run off.
When she reaches the horse, she realizes that she doesn't have to energy to mount it. The horse bends down, and somehow she gets on it. The second she is on, the horse shoots off, carrying her away.
Wow, that went on a lot longer than I had expected it to. What it did do was pipe my interest in writing it again. Which is good. =)