Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 19

I flick the card reading stealthily off my keyboard and peer around, finally spotting Nekar. The card reading invisibly doesn’t do a very good job of hiding him.

“Might as well come out. I can see you.”

“Damn. I need bigger cards.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that would help.” I drum my fingertips on the desktop. “So, what have you seen up here?”

“Nothing.” One of the cards in his hand drops.

dishonestly

I hold up the card and shake my head. “Nice try.”

“I was just doing some research. Really.”

None of the cards leap out to give me a clue so I just nod.

“Ms. Wildstar said you wrote that Mox guy into your new novel. I wanted to see if there as a place for me too. We’re not that different, me and him, you know.” He glares at the laptop. “But I couldn’t figure out where the hell you have your novel file. Your writing folder is a damned mess!”

“It’s organized chaos. It works for me.” I pick him up and set him far from the tissue box. “Sorry to say, it’s because you and Mox are not all that different that you will not be written into this novel.”

Repetition was an excuse they’d all come to accept, but in all honestly in this case, it’s because they aren’t the same at all. What kind of deluded image does this guy have of himself? Mox was a good guy. Nekar was a bad guy. He never even had a somewhat middle ground, for goodness sake!

“While you’re up here, do you have a question to ask me?”

“It’s not my turn, but the schedule seems to be off, so sure.” He pulls a copy of the flyer from a pocket in his coat. “Which authors or books have inspired your writing?”

In this case of this particular novel and main character, I’d have to say Steven Brust’s Vlad Taltos series. Assassins and dry wit are two of my favorite things. I happened to be reading the series when I changed the direction of Trust many years ago, switching everything from Ms. MC to Mr. MC’s pov.”

“I could do dry wit. I’ve also killed people,” Nekar offers.

“I know.” I pat him on the head. “But we’re back at that repetition thing again. You should run along now before you end up in a sticky situation.”

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 18

Twenty-five uniformed men march onto the desktop. One steps forward. “Excuse us, She Who Taps The Keys. We are looking for our Captain.”

“You and everyone else. Haven’t seen him.”

“He was supposed to ask you question today. He hasn’t been here yet?”

“I said I haven’t seen him. Is there something else, or can I get back to writing?”

The man turns and looks to the others. Several of them nod. He turns back to me. “Our beloved Captain has been missing for over a week. No trace of him has been found. We can only assume something horrible happened. We request your permission to elect a new captain.”

“A guy goes missing for a week and you’re all set to replace him? Not big on waiting are you?”

He leans in close and give me a conspiratorial nod. “I’ve rather had my eye on the position for years.”

Could it be? One of my impotent evildoers has a drop of ambition? Perhaps there is hope for them after all. “And just what kind of captain would you be? I’d like to see some changes. You Barthromians have been stagnant for decades.”

“Oh, me too.” He grins, which makes his eyes sparkle and a dimple show up on his cheek.

“Cut that out. Don’t ever grin again.”

“But,” he pouts, “I have so many plans. I have a vision!” He spays his fingers out and raises them high. The sparkle and dimple return. “New uniforms, something blue like Delilah’s eyes, and with some sequins! We’re so sick of these drab things! And pencils! We want pencils. One for each man, so we can play tic-tac-toe to hone our strategic skills. And that one,” he points to a blushing young man, “he would like to open a shelter for the dust bunnies. You see, they’re just lonely and misunderstood! They could be trained. They could become wonderful pets!”

I just sit, blinking, amazed at this glimpse into the Barthromian mind. Amazed, no, perhaps disturbed. Yeah, probably more that. “While I’m thinking that over, ask today’s question.”

“Of course.” He snaps to attention. “Who is the antagonist in your novel and what drives them?”

“There are several. The ex-best friend who has a chip on his shoulder the size of his dead wife and child. Kess, a returning bad guy who was good for a brief section of the last novel and is back to being bad, though perhaps reluctantly. He is trying to give the star system better leadership. It just happens not to jive with Mr. MCs vision, nor are his tactics appreciated. And then there’s the Council. Still there and still wanting expansion and domination over the known universe. Isn’t that what armies and plentiful resources to sustain them are for?”

He puts a hand over his gaping mouth. “They sound evil.”

“And you don’t. Request denied.”

Twenty-five sulky Barthromians shuffle off the desktop.

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 16/17

"Scorpius, I’m going to toss day sixteen’s question to you since no one came up here to ask it. Wait, you can’t ask questions, you can only answer them."

Okay, I’ve got this then since we’re already running a day behind. Turns out this is as darn appropriate question.

What else do I have going on in my life and how much is it shafting my efforts to win NaNo?

Well, we all know that I buried my superwoman cape last year. However, here’s a quick glimpse into a single week’s obligations beyond my own writing of 50k.

Monday – Young Writers Program student meeting , grocery shopping for me and my mother-in-law, Boy Scout meeting and work
Tuesday – Girl Scout meeting, worked late on an installation job, Hosted a write-in for adult NaNo participants, shopped for upcoming PTO event items, girl scout project supplies, NaNo celebratory chocolate, and donation for food drive for son’s school, and one other meeting that I had to cancel on because of the write-in.
Wednesday – Young Writers Program student meeting, picked up CSA veggies, worked, watched Survivor with family – oh hey, we’re all in the same room for a whole hour!
Thursday – OMG nothing but work (thanks to the fact we cancelled a PTO meeting.)
Friday – work, host evening online write-in for adult NaNo participants, help with PTO movie night and somewhere in there transport teen son to evening school party. Clone self?
Saturday – Transport son across town to afternoon boy scout event. Spend a couple hours with daughter at an activity orientation. Work in the yard / clean up garden / work if I have to.
Sunday - Spend some time sitting in the same room with husband during our one night of evening tv time. Catch up on laundry, dishes, cleaning and making sure kids have homework done, have cleaned themselves, their rooms and their clothes.

There, we’ve got that one covered. Still no one up here? Now I’m getting concerned.

“Hey,” I rip the masking tape from the Barthromian captain’s mouth. “I guess today is yours even though the schedule said that you have tomorrow. Do you have a name? I mean, I didn’t write you with one, but I’m getting sick of referring to you indirectly.”

He rubs the masking tape residue from his lips. “Chuck.”

“Uhh, really? That’s not very, I don’t know, alien sounding. Or terrifying. Come on, you’re the leader of the bad guys.”

“No, I think I’m sticking with Chuck. I rather like it. And truly, I do appreciate that you let me pick my own name, especially after that Glicfip debacle.”

“And now you’re being polite and using words like debacle. Where did I go wrong?” I drop my head into my hands. “Ask the darn question.”

“What time period is your novel set and is it on this world or another?”

“It’s in the future, in another star system, and takes place on several planets.”

“Very nice. Sounds like a story I could really get into.”

I slap new piece of tape over his mouth. “Nice try, Chuck.”

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 15

“So Bulky-short-haired-hot-tempered-violet-ex-partner-who-sold-out-Ms-MC-and-caused-her-serious-emotional-harm-before-she-hunted-him-down-and-killed-him, we meet again.”

He scowls. “We do.”

“Well, aren’t you extra surly today? What brings you to the desktop?”

“The Barthromians are missing their captain. Do you have anything to do with that?”

“Me?” I take a second to reassure myself that I’ve securely re-taped and gagged the annoyingly good captain to the backside of the tissue box. “Nope.”

“Maybe we should ask your friend there.” He points at Scorpius standing next to my laptop.

“Scorpius is a bobblehead. He can’t talk.”

“Oh, but I think he can.” Bulky-short-haired-hot-tempered-violet-ex-partner-who-sold-out-Ms-MC-and-caused-her-serious-emotional-harm-before-she-hunted-him-down-and-killed-him approaches the still figurine. “So, Scorpius, have you seen the Barthromian captain on the desktop within the past week?”

He gives Scorpius a little tap under the chin. “See, he says yes.”

“Now that’s just cheating.” I knock my chair into the desk. Bulky-short-haired-hot-tempered-violet-ex-partner-who-sold-out-Ms-MC-and-caused-her-serious-emotional-harm-before-she-hunted-him-down-and-killed-him staggers. “See, now he says no.”

“You just slammed into the desk!”

“You hit him under the chin to make him nod!”

“Is she lying about the captain, Scorpius?”

“Oh come on!” I spot a glob of something shiny on his coat and point at it. “What’s that? It looks like a giant blob of mucus.”

Bulky-short-haired-hot-tempered-violet-ex-partner-who-sold-out-Ms-MC-and-caused-her-serious-emotional-harm-before-she-hunted-him-down-and-killed-him turns slowly to look the glob on his shoulder. “That’s nothing. Say, umm, do any of your characters have a disability or mental illness this year? That dysotopian novella you did a couple years ago, the one with the mentally handicapped guy, uhh what was his name… Anyway, that was fascinating.”

“No, but thanks. So really though, what is that on your coat?”

“Must have sneezed. Woo, yeah, not feeling so well. Probably should go lie down.” He runs for the edge of the desk. “Wouldn’t want to get you sick. We’re only halfway through NaNo.” He dives over the edge.

I look to Scorpius. “Think their still up to something out there?’

He nods.

“Yeah, me too.”

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 14

I peer down into my pen cup, realizing it’s been a long time since I’ve used any of them. With my handwriting being so atrocious, it’s just better I stick with typing whenever possible. Wow, these things area really dusty. “You guys still alive in there?”

Delilah shrieks, “Get me out of here! I have baby dust bunny bites all over my legs!”

“The confession first.” I reach down in there and wait until I feel paper between my fingers. I scan the scrawlings on the paper. “A revolt, huh?”

“That was the plan, yes,” says the Barthromian captain. “Now, if you don’t mind, I believe this girl has been traumatized enough. Keep me if you must, but let her go.”

I sigh. “Chivalrous behavior? Really? You’re supposed to be evil!”

“It seems you failed miserably.”

“So did your plan. Mox won’t be helping you.”

Satisfied when both characters look suitably dejected, I extract Delilah from the cup. “Now then, I suppose you want to go back to your beloved Glicfip.

She nods emphatically.

“Two things then. First, you have a question to ask me.” I hand her the flyer.

Delilah scans the list of questions and then clears her throat. “Is the sexuality of your characters a large part of your novel’s story? If so, are there characters who deviate from the heterosexual “norm”? In what way?

“A large part? Not exactly. There is some sex between two characters who have been involved for several years and are now engaged. She’s currently holding out now until the big day and that’s causing some definite frustrations on Mr. MC’s part. I haven’t run across any characters who operate outside the hetrosexual norm in this particular novel. It doesn’t feel needed for this plot.”

“What the second thing?”

“If you say a word of what happened up here to anyone down there, I’ll write Glicfip into a novel with his own personal harem.”

“You wouldn’t!”

I tap a few keys. “Try me.”

She scurries off the desk without so much as a glance at the captain still stuck in my cup.

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 13

“Ms. Wildstar, how nice to see you again. I hear you’ve been on a little vacation.”

She smiles tightly and grips the edge of her seat on the stack of dusty CDs. “Not really. Those stupid boys don’t know what they’re talking about. You know they were never developed for their minds. All they were meant to do was get horribly murdered so Mr. MC would be more sympathetic to Ms. MC.”

“I suppose so.” Ms. Wildstar’s mind wasn’t all that developed either, but I didn't point that out. “So what can I do for you today?”

"Ms. MC was supposed to describe Mr. MC for us, but she couldn't make it. Something about not being able to get a sitter because she's stuck on a buried, hidden spaceship with her kids."

“Ah yes, she’s in a bit of a predicament at the moment. So are you going to take her place?”

“No, I brought someone else to do it.” She slides off the CD stack and goes to the edge of the desk where she motions to someone below. “Someone you haven’t talked to yet this month.”

I take a quick inventory of my discarded characters. They all seem to be covered. Hmmm.

A man in his late twenties with dark skin, hair and eyes climbs into the desktop. He stands protectively near Ms. Wildstar.

I wrack my brain and finally arrive at a name. “Mr. MC’s brother’s best friend, Mox?”

“So you do remember me.”

“No, she doesn’t. She’s scrambling. There’s a reason you were left out there undiscovered in wads of yellowed paper. If she remembered you, she’d have brought you to live with us years ago.”

I tap my chin. “Interesting. I’d not thought about you in years. It’s been drafts.”

“Yeah, I saw some of the new stuff when we were making our way here. Much better. Rather sorry I’m not in it though.”

“I’m intrigued. What do you have to tell us about Mr. MC?”

“He was a nice young man, responsible, striving to be like his brother. But when Chesser died, the poor kid was left at the whims of Ms. MC and she ruined him.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, and you’re working from old information. He truly does love Ms. MC and she him. She doesn’t pull him into her troubled world until years after she did before. He’s his own man now. Sure they’ve had some rough times, but in this new novel, he’s doing the best he can in a world were everyone seems bent on ruining the happy little life he and Ms. MC had set up for themselves.”

“Wow, that doesn’t sound near as bad.” He leaves Ms. MC’s side and sits on the CD stack. “I never liked Ms. MC before but she sounds much more sympathetic now.”

“That was my intention.”

Ms. Wildstar stomps over to his side with her arms crossed and a scowl on her young face. “You said you were going to help us. Now you’re sitting her all chitty chatty with She Who Taps The Keys. This was not part of the deal.”

I put on my benevolent smile. “Mox, it seems like you were a decorated soldier, dedicated and loyal. You had a lot of skills Chesser used while you were on missions together and when he died, you did your best to give Mr. MC some guidance.”

He sits up proudly and puffs out his chest. “That’s me.”

“You know what…” I glance at my laptop.

“No! No, no, no!” Ms. Wildstar runs toward my keyboard.

“I have the perfect place for you in this novel.” I quickly type his name.

Mox vanishes.

Ms. Wildstar stomps on my keyboard. “That wasn’t fair! You! You know...” She shakes her fist at me.

“Know what?” I smile at the utterly frustrated teen.

She bites her lip and lowers her fist. “Nothing. I have to go.”

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 12

Two pairs of trembling hands lightly touch my desktop. The boys-who-don’t-get-blown-up appear seconds later. “Excuse us, She Who Taps The Keys, we are looking for some of our friends who have gotten lost.”

“Haven’t seen anyone since yesterday. How’s your project going?”

They look at each other and then back at me. “What project?”

“The one where you ask me questions, of course. What did you think I meant?” Maybe I should grab them too. Nah, there are enough people wondering where the two are that I already have.

“Oh, that. Quite well I think,” says one.

“Marin and Nekar have been happy with everyone,” says the other.

“Have they now. What about Ms. Wildstar, is she happy too?”

“Haven’t seen her-”

“For a couple days,” finishes the other.

“I hope she’s not missing too.”

“No, she’s off-”

The other one jabs him in the side with his elbow. “She’s taking a break.”

“Of course. I’m sure she’s tired after arranging this project.”

“She had help.”

“Did she?”

“Um, we’re supposed to ask you a question today,” says the one who did the jabbing. “If you were behind on your word count and were going to pull and all-nighter to catch up. What would your playlist of inspirational music look like?”

The pens in the cup begin to rattle. I talk a little louder to cover the noise and put my hand over the cup, stilling the pens inside. “Seriously? Didn’t we cover this with the last question you two were up here?”

“I suppose we did. So no music then?”

“I have been inspired by certain songs, such as when I was working on the novel you two came from, but no, not when I’m actually writing. No music. In fact, even when I’m plotting while driving around town, I turn the radio off.”

“Silence. Got it,” says the one with the loose lips.

“But you’re not good at it,” mutters the other one as they creep back over the edge of the desk.

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 11

I unfold the flyer I took from the pocket of the Barthromian captain and look it over. Other than a letter B next to day 18 and 22 there aren’t any clues to be found. Delilah didn’t have any pockets but even a pat down didn’t produce anything of use. “Are you two comfortable?”

Delilah and the Barthromian captain blink twice.

“Good. If you’re ready to talk I’ll gladly remove some of that uncomfortable tape.”

They blink again.

“Looks like today’s question is about collaborative writing.” I rip the tape from their mouths. “Since no one has come to ask it yet, I’ll just take this one.”

Something jabs my foot. I clamp my hand over the two characters taped side by side to my tissue box. Glancing downward, I spot Glicfip poking my sock with a half bent open paperclip. “Can I help you with something?”

“Have you seen Delilah?”

“Not since she asked her question yesterday.”

“I’m supposed to ask you one today. Mind if I skip it? I’d really like to keep searching for her. I’m starting to get worried.”

“We can hope the dust bunnies didn’t get her. That would be such a shame.”

Glicfip pales. “You don’t think… No. She’s got to be around here somewhere. I’ll keep looking.”

“Okay then. Good luck.” I wave as he sets off town the paper wad lined paths.

Once he’s out of sight, I turn back to the characters squirming and mumbling under my hand. “Now then, about this collaborative writing thing. No, I haven’t done that and I’m not into roleplaying games. However, I’d suggest you two get on it.”

I pull the tape off of their bodies and drop them in the pen-filled cup. The useless flyer goes in too. “You have until tomorrow to write me a full confession on the back of that or you’ll be playing the role of dust bunny food.”

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 10

With the Barthromian captain taped securely to my pen box and turned to face the black wastelands behind my desk, I patiently await my next visitor.

Delilah hoists up her low cut dress to better cover her ample cleavage and smiles. “Hello.”

“Is that the dress Ms. MC used to wear to that year end party?”

“Yeah, you cut it three drafts ago. Ms. Wildstar wanted it, but she couldn’t fill it out like I can.” She spins around.

“Indeed. I don’t think Ms. MC even did it such justice.”

“Really?”

“Totally.” I smile. “How does Glicfip like it?”

“He loves it. Oh, and thank you for giving him a new name. It’s much easier to say. And it sounds so different.”

“Like he comes from a whole different planet or something.”

“Exactly!” She grins.

“So what can I do for you today?”

“I’m supposed to ask you about manifesting your love of writing when you’re not doing Nano.”

“You mean, my other project outside of NaNoWriMo?”

Her grin hastily downgrades to a wavering smile. “Yes, those.”

“I think we both know that I write all year, well, other than the summer months. Those are often too busy and filled with interruptions to get much done, but if something really has me fired up, I’ve been known write even then. I also enjoy critiquing writing for other people when I’m in a non-writing mode, which sometimes happens between projects or when I’m on an editing/revising binge.”

My pens begin to jangle in their plastic cup set into the empty tissue box. Delilah jumps.

“What was that?” She wraps her arms around herself. “Are there dust bunnies back there? Trala says they’re horrible and mean and ugly! You’ll protect me, won’t you?”

“I’m not Glicfip, dear. I’ve killed characters. Many of them. Even ones I really like when it serves a good purpose.”

The box bounces. Then pens bounce with it, thunking up and down.

“Maybe if you had something important to tell me, I’d be more inclined to protect you.”

The girl looks around wildly. “I don’t know anything important. Really, I don’t. I should go.”

“So soon?”

She dashes for the edge of the desk, but the tight dress confines her steps. I grab her.

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 9

Still yawning, I’m peacefully going about my wake up and check my email routine when someone climbs over the edge of my desk. The captain of the Barthromians straightens his uniform and paces my desktop, his heels clicking with each step. “So, who did you tell?”

“Huh?”

“Come on, you told others. You can’t hide it. We know.”

“Who knows what? Of course I talk to people.” I really need to start drinking coffee or maybe ring my desk in barbed wire until I’m ready to be sociable.

Click, click, click go the heels of his polished black boots. “You know what I’m talking about. Who. Did. You. Tell.”

I close my laptop and sit forward. “Talking slowly is only effective if you also yell. At least, that seems to be the general consensus. How about you stand still?” I grab him by the legs and pick him up. “Now, just what are you ranting about this early in the morning?”

“Reliable sources have reported that you have been spreading confidential information.” He pushes against my hand as if he actually thinks he could break free.

“Regarding what?”

“The project code-named NaNoWriMo. Ms. Wildstar said no one was to speak of it. Especially not you.”

I squeeze a little more. “Project, huh? I suppose I have been talking about NaNoWriMo, but that was kind of the point of this month—to share my writing experiences with others.”

He freezes. “Writing? You’re talking about… writing?”

“Yes, I’ve told everyone who will stand still long enough to listen about NaNoWriMo.” I bring him up close to my face. “People know to leave me alone this month because I’m stressed enough to snap heads off with all I’ve got going on in addition to NaNo.”

“Oh.” He dons a winning grin. “My mistake. So sorry. Would you mind putting me down now?”

“I don’t think so.” I grab my roll of masking tape. “I can interrogate too.”

After taping him to the tissue box that holds all my pens, I sit back. “So, just what is project NaNoWriMo?”

“We’re not supposed to talk about it. The memo said so.”

“Especially not to me?”

“Notto you.” He bangs the back of his head on the box, and lets out a growl. “Damned typos! They’ll be the death of us all.”

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 8

When I see Ms. Wildstar on my desktop, I’m only mildly relieved. “Been awhile. Where have you been?”

“Hanging out with Nekar. Why?”

“Why did he and Glicfip switched days? Was he too busy hanging out with you? Speaking of which, I know you two always seem to be near each other, but hanging out? Really?”

She shrugs. “Glicfip had to get a haircut on his assigned day. You know how he is with looking good.”

I have to wonder if Nekar has been coaching her. She’s awfully nonchalant if she is truly hiding something.

“With Xander gone, I needed someone to talk to. Glicfip and Delilah are often busy. All Trala does is rave about the dust bunnies and the boys-who-don’t-get-blown-up are rather attached to one another.”

“As in tied or glued together or attached?”

“Yeah, that.” She cocks her head and a sly smile creeps across her face. “You didn’t know? I thought you knew everything about all of us.”

“I do.” For the most part, but she doesn’t need to know that. “I was just making sure they’d not fallen into a vat of glue or tangle of masking tape when the dove off my desk the other day.”

“Uh huh.”

“Do you have a question for today or did you just come up here to annoy me?”

“What’s your word count? It’s supposed to be 13,336 today.”

“Well, it’s not 13,336. I did manage to squeak in over 10k last night thanks to some word wars. Weekends and Mondays are not good writing times for me. Too many people at home and too many obligations to juggle. Today, I should be able to pound out some words.

“Famous last words?” She smirks

“Ha. Ha.”

“I should get going then. I wouldn’t want to distract you.” She waves and dashes to the edge of the desk.

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 7

As I sit here, waiting at my desk, I can’t help but wonder if I’ll see Ms. Wildstar today or if she’ll scrape up yet another discarded character to stand in her place. The boys-who-don’t-get-blown-up clearly didn’t want to be up here. I really have to wonder what she’s bribing them all with.

My wondering comes to an end as I see a hand and then a head pop over the edge of the desk. “Welcome, Bulky-short-haired-hot-tempered-violet-ex-partner-who-sold-out-Ms-MC-and-caused-her-serious-emotional-harm-before-she-hunted-him-down-and-killed-him.”

He stands up and shakes out his dusty clothes. Scars from his adventures in the dark wasteland behind my desk stand out starkly on his face and arms. He scowls. “You really remembered all of that?”

“It is your name. It’s my job to remember.” I make sure my notes are covered with my hand and smile confidently. “So what question do you bring for me today?”

“I’m supposed to ask you where your favorite place to write is. But really, I wanted to ask you for a new name. This one is total crap*!”

“Now, now, no need for that. I suppose, since I gave Glicfip a new-”

“Wait, what the hell did you just say?”

“Glipfip?”

He shakes his head. “You’re cruel, you know that?”

“It’s also my job to be cruel.”

“Have you ever considered that your job requirements sound a lot like mine?”

“Can’t say that I have, but now you that mention it… Mine doesn’t pay near as well though.”

“That’s because you don’t actually have to deal with the dead bodies. You just make the rest of us do the dirty work.”

“Good point. So you want a new name? How about Bshhtvep?”

“I’ll pass. Keep the mouthful. We’ll see how long you can keep it straight.” He glances off in the distance and nods.

I spin around in my chair and scan our paper-filled surroundings. “Who are you nodding to?”

It’s far too quiet out there. The adverb crates are unattended. Ms. Wildstar’s paper stack is vacant. The corners are empty, as are the paper wad lined pathways. Not even a whisper or crinkle of paper reaches my ears.

“What are you guys up to?”

“Just doing our jobs, like you.” He smiles.

I have no idea what Ms. MC saw in this guy. He’s slimy. Not literally, that would be messy.

“Didn’t I ask you a question?” he asks.

“Um, yeah.” I keep my eyes on him and the far too quietness below. “I have this desk but I also like the freedom of not being tied to one place. I write in bed, on the couch, at the kitchen table, sometimes the stairway if it’s the one pseudo quiet place I can find in the house while still keeping in touch with what’s going on with the family. They tend to get annoyed when I shut myself away in here for hours on end. Though, I usually try to write when they’re gone because I’m more productive then.

“I’d say we’re done here. I’ll be seeing you soon.” He grins as he climbs over the edge.


*was severely edited to be all ages friendly.

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 6

“Almighty She Who Taps the Keys, we are reporting for duty.” Twenty-six extremely pale men in dirt-colored uniforms snap to attention on the desktop.

I have to remember to give Ms. Wildstar credit for recruiting even the Barthromians in her efforts to delay her next visit. Or maybe she’s up to something. “What’s Ms. Wildstar up to these days?”

“Sorry ma’am, we weren’t written to be spies.”

“Right. What were you written for again? Oh yes, to be bad guys. So be bad and do something you weren’t written for. Come on, break the mold.”

All twenty-six of them stare at the desktop. The leader quietly says, “We don’t know how.”

“You’re worthless. All of you. Not that it should be a surprise. You’re here.” I sigh. “Fine, what’s your question?”

“What do you find most stressful about writing 50,000 words in thirty days?”

“Getting my work done when I’d rather be writing. Too often, writing wins. Which means work piles up and then I’m running around swearing at everything until I’m caught up again.”

“It’s all about time management, ma’am.”

“Yes, well, when you can find the time to be bad, you get back to me on your time management advice. Until then, you’re dismissed.”

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 5

Two bare-chested, seventeenish looking boys peek over the desktop. “Excuse us, are we in the right place?”

“This is different. Can’t say as I’ve seen the two of you up here before. You boys-who-don’t-get-blown-up tend to stick to the corners of the room. Ms. Wildstar is really making sure you all get a turn, isn’t she?”

They nod nervously and stand at the very edge of the desk.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to blow you up again just for asking a question. Out with it.”

“What are two-” starts one boy

“Songs from your playlist that-” says the other

“You feel are connected with your novel-”

“And why?”

“Wow, you guys are a regular little interviewing duo, aren’t you? That’s really annoying. Maybe I should blow you up again.”

One backs up half a step and teeters on the edge. The other catches him, pulling him back to safety.”

“I’m kidding. Maybe.” I shuffle through the items on my desktop. “Where is that music device… Behind the Scorpius bobblehead? He says yes, but he always says yes. No. Behind this awesomely foiled sun and moon birthday card from six years ago? No. Behind my repurposed empty tissue box that holds pens and pencils? No. Oooh that’s right. I don’t have one. I write in silence. I love silence. How the heck am I supposed to hear you guys yammering in my head if I have music playing?”

The boys yelp and fling themselves over the edge.

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 4

Good-looking-cocky-fighter-pilot-that-once-slept-with-Ms-MC-and-was-violently-killed by-Mr-MC sits on the edge of my desktop, panting. “That’s a long climb up.”

“Been awhile since you’ve been up here. You should spend less time ogling Delilah and more time exercising.”

“I exercise with Delilah all the time.” He winks.

“And she weighs all of, what, a hundred pounds after downing a sheet cake? You might want to try something with a little more resistance now and then. And no, I’m not talking about broadening your sexual exploits.”

“Oh come on, look at me, I’m ripped. I don’t need weights.”

“That’s because I wrote you that way. Keep dining on fantasy ‘food’ and I’ll have to write you some bigger clothes. Don’t you have a question you’re supposed to ask me?”

Good-looking-cocky-fighter-pilot-that-once-slept-with-Ms-MC-and-was-violently-killed by-Mr-MC pulls out a paper from his pocket. “Yeah, why do I have this hideous name when the other characters you’ve pulled out of here for their names have vanished?”

“Because I’m She Who Taps the Keys, that’s why.”

He crosses his arms and taps his foot. “Oh look, I’m He Who Taps His Foot.”

“Fine. Because I recycled other aspects of their characters along with their names, but I haven’t had a need for a playboy fighter pilot. You’re stuck here in character purgatory, buddy.”

“Then I demand a new name before I ask my all important question.”

“Uhh. How about Glcfp. That encompasses enough to help me remember who you are without being such a mouthful.”

“Seriously? Glcfp? How do you even pronounce that?”

I grab my sharpie and fill out a new nametag. After slapping it on his chest I lean back and look him over. “Yep. That works. You are hereby known as, Glicfip.”

“You realize that’s still horrible, right?”

“Take it or leave it, Glicfip. Ask your question already.”

“What is the genre of your novel and why did you choose it?”

“I chose it because it’s a sequel and I kinda need it to be the same genre. Which is sci-fi by the way.”

“Fair enough. Can I be excused before I end up with an even stupider name?”

I wave my sharpie marker at him. “Probably a good idea.”

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 3

Nekar stands at one end of my desk, his jaw tight and his narrowed eyes gleaming. “You.”

Ms. MC stands at the other end of my desk looking equally as perturbed. “You.” She glares at me. “When you invited me out here, I didn’t think it was to help you dispose of these cast offs. I mean, that’s not a problem, but I thought you said something about an interview.”

“I did. Nekar, cut the western showdown bit and do what you came up here to do.”

“You can’t honestly expect to interview her.” He throws down Stubbornly and Adamantly on the desktop.

“Hey, it was supposed to be Good-looking-cocky-fighter-pilot-that-once-slept-with-Ms-MC-and-was-violently-killed by-Mr-MC’s turn, but you switched days. Not my problem. Get on with it.” I shoo him toward Ms. MC.

They eye each other with distaste.

“I could come back another day,” Ms. MC says.

“No, just get on with it, Nekar.”

He says through clenched teeth, “Tell the people who you are.”

“I’m Ms. MC. Idiot. Why don’t you tell them who I am?”

“I know who you’re not anymore. We’ve got your eyes, nails and body armor floating around here. How the hell did you even fit in that? I suppose prancing around in a skin-tight suit while doing the Council’s dirty work was a little too sexy for you?”

“I don’t prance and I don’t do sexy.”

“But Mr. MC finds you attractive anyway. How nice for you. I suppose he’s into you for what’s on the inside.” He throws a card at Ms. MC.

She peers at it. “Sarcastically? As if we hadn’t picked up on that? This is why you didn’t make the cut. You’re redundant.” She looks to me. “Are you sure I can’t kill him? I have a pulse pistol right here. It would only take a second.”

“Do you have any idea how hard it would be to clean Nekar bits out of my keyboard? No thanks. We better wrap this up before someone gets hurt. Nekar, thank Ms. MC.”

“Are you freaking kidding me?” He hurls an armload of adverbs at Ms. MC and jumps off the edge of the desktop.

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 2

“Trala? Hey, so, uhhh, what brings you up here?” I look at once pretty woman now covered in dust bunny remains and cobwebs. Her cherished blue dress is tattered. Scratches cover her legs and arms.

“Didn’t think I was still around did you? Thought the dust bunnies at me, I bet. You said they were cute and fuzzy! Lies! They’re vile little creatures. And their teeth!”

“They are? I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize they’d gone wild.”

“Yeah, right. Ms. Wildstar says otherwise.”

“Did she send you up here? I wondered where she’d gotten off to.”

Trala wipes some of the cobwebs from her hair and flips her long dark locks over her shoulders. “She gave me this flyer and told me to ask you a question about some Nana na mo thing.

“It’s NaNoWriMo, but nevermind, wouldn’t want you to sprain something. What’s today’s question?”

She squints at the flyer. “What is the title of your story?”

“I have no idea.”

“That’s an odd title.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

“Next I’m supposed to ask why you choose that title.”

“Because I don’t know what the book is called yet!” I take a deep breath and let it out. “Hey Trala, have you ever heard the term TSTL?”

“No. Why?”

“You should go look it up. I think you’d find it enlightening.”

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 1

Ms. Wildstar sits primly on the edge of my container of paperclips and rubberbands and clears her throat. “So, She Who Taps the Keys, I hear you’re doing this NaNoWriMo thing again.”

“Where’d you hear that?”

“The flyer you threw down at us last week. You know, the one with thirty questions and the scrawled note to elect someone to ask them. Now I see why you type all the time. It took three of us to decipher your handwriting.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. My handwriting sucks. I freely admit it.” I rub my hands together. “So what’s the question for day one?”

“We all know you’ve done this before, but go ahead and tell us just how long you’ve been insane.” She coughs. “I mean, how long you’ve been participating.”

“This will be my sixth year. I’ve made to 50k every time. It will also be my fifth year coaching students through the Young Writer’s Program and my third year as a Municipal Liaison for my local region. I stay very busy during November.”

“We know. We hear you. Clickty-clacking all freaking morning. And talking to yourself. Do you even realize you do that? And would it kill you to get take a shower and get dressed before plunking down in front of that thing for hours?” She jabs a finger at my laptop.

“It might.” I glare at her. “I think we’ve have enough of this little interview for today.”

November won't be quiet

November has usually meant a silent blog for me due to NaNoWriMo taking over my life, but not this year. No sir. My host of discarded characters have decreed that they'll not sit quietly and be ignored.

Frankly, they've been rather secretive lately. I don't trust them to sit quietly and I certainly don't dare ignore them.

In hopes of flushing out what's going on behind the paper piles, I've devised a project that will keep them busy and, in theory, allow me the chance to flush out a few clues as to what their up to. Wish me luck.

Stay tuned for Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews. Coming Nov 1.

Victims of the Knife: Grief and Zombies

Ms. Wildstar looks around cautiously. "Did you hear that huge whoop last night?"

Nekar nods. "I think it's safe to say she finished the rewrite."

"That means we're not going back in, are we." She sits down on a stack of paper and rests her chin on her hands. "We're stuck here while Xander is off having fun."

Nekar pats her shoulder. "Don't worry. I hear she might be working in the sequel during NaNo. There's still hope for us. Besides, you wouldn't like Xander now. He's older and only has a few speaking lines. He's not even the same man...err...boy."

"She rewrote him? My Xander?" Tears roll down Ms. Wildstar's cheeks. "I'll never see him again. We had so much fun together--searching for discarded technology, feasting on fantasy "food", acting out that cut scene where Ms. MC got to dress up and then she and Mr. MC when to that fancy party and then they-"

"I think we both know what happens next and I really don't need to hear the details. You're half my age for goodness sake. You know how long its been since I got to be in a scene like that? Four drafts ago. At least. You do not want to get me aroused."

Ms. Wildstar sniffs. "You really think there's hope we might get into the sequel?"

"Uhh, no. Not a chance." Nekar laughs.

"But you said there was hope."

"I was lying. I do that. But we might end up with some new friends."

"Wait, did you say NaNo was coming?"

"Yes, but if she does go with the sequel, I doubt we'll end up with NaNo zombies this year."

"But if she doesn't..." Ignoring the threat of paper cuts, Ms. Wildstar grasps the edge of her seat in white-knuckled terror.

"We'll need weapons." They run off toward the tower of precariously balanced paper wads as if the zombies are already at their heels.