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.