Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 23

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 saunters across my desktop and leans against my laptop screen. “So, how’s the writing going?”

“Pretty good, though not a word yet today. Been rather busy around here with work and getting ready for Thanksgiving tomorrow.”

“Ah yes, that’s a day we don’t usually see you around here, isn’t it? Too busy dealing with cooking, traveling to visit family and all that sort of thing. No time for writing.”

“I’m having people here this year, so no traveling. I should have time to write. Probably not later in the day though.”

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 marks something on his hand.

“What are you doing there? Are you writing on your hand?”

“Me? No, not at all. That would be silly. Who does that?”

“You do, apparently. What were you writing?”

“Nothing. Say, I believe I’m supposed to ask you a question today. Let’s see.” He pulls out his creased flyer. “I…uhhh…” He looks around and reads the flyer again, his brow creasing more and more with each second.

“Is there a problem?”

“Umm, no. It’s just…”

“Just what?”

He licks his lips and slaps on a half-assed smile. “Do animals play any part in your story?”

I purse my lips and ponder this question for a several very long and silent minutes, taking secret joy in watching beads of sweat form in his brow. “Say, weren’t you feeling ill last time you were up here? Better now?”

“Oh yes, much better.” His gaze darts to his shoulders and then back to me.

“Good to hear. Wouldn’t want you to start sneezing up huge globs of phylum.”

“Yeah.” He laughs nervously. “So animals?”

“No, not in my novel this year. I’ve written in some dogs and horses in the past, but hmm, no just not a big animal writer, I guess.” A nagging thought persuades me to check my calendar. It is the twenty-third. “Have you seen Chuck?”

“The Barthromian captain?”


“He told me I should take his place today. Said he wasn’t feeling well.”

“Don’t tell me he’s got what you had the other day.”

“I don’t know. Hey, I’ve got to get going anyway. I’ll check on him and let him know you asked about him.”

“You do that.” Though I was pretty sure my spy was doing a fine job. Chuck had some promise after all.

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