I did it. I wrote a bit more than 1,700 words of my NaNovel. And, yes, I gave up and went with the super-silly concept. Why, you ask? For starters, I have no shame. More importantly, though, the less I have to think about where the story’s going, the easier it’ll be to write.
On the one hand: Yay!
On the other hand: Aw, crap. I have to do that 29 more times before month’s end.
Right. Excerpt time. Keep in mind that a NaNovel is, by definition, unfiltered dreck. (It beats coming up with compelling and interesting posting content from my real life, let me tell you)
David finally spoke. “Unless you’re going to suggest we use Michael for this, you’re the best option available.”
Sighing deeply, I felt myself getting cornered. “I wouldn’t suggest that. You know I wouldn’t. Now that you mention it, though, what do you have him doing?”
“Right now he’s got a small group out doing covert ops training, then we’re going to give him a couple of our aspiring political geniuses to grind the rough edges off of their technique.”
I nodded my agreement with that. “He’s the best teacher we’ve ever had. Most of what I know about political wrangling came from my time under his wing.”
“And it keeps him busy while we think of a way to convince him to take a real job around here,” David said.
“I don’t need to tell you to be careful, I know, but be careful.” Michael McGee was only a couple of years back from the dead, in a manner of speaking, and the grief that had sent him off into the void for his own peculiar kind of suicide wasn’t completely healed. Without having to ask, I knew that Elaine and David were careful not to assign him any students with so much as a passing resemblance to his beloved Jessica.
Elaine vanished, apparently content to leave David the job of sealing the deal. I didn’t wait for the renewal of his pitch. “You can’t rely on me and mine to fill in all of the empty places around here forever, man. We’ve done our part and then some. If I have to work, fine, but not this. It’s demeaning, for the love of all that’s holy!”
“Fine. Give me a name. The job’s there, and whether we record it or not, it needs doing. We can’t. Michael can’t. Amy and Xian are assigned elsewhere already, and you know as well as I do that you couldn’t do as good a job as either for that gig. Tara and Lynn are already on assignments of their own. Buster’s handling combat training, Daniel’s still doing damage control on the demon mess, and those are all of the people we have who are competent and trustworthy.”
“So I’m competent but not trustworthy?” I knew I’d lost by this point, but I couldn’t resist throwing that at him.
“Very funny, Andrew.”
Sighing was becoming a habit. “I’ll give you credit, old friend. You at least tried to wheedle me into doing it instead of shoving the cold hard facts down my throat.”
“I just wish,” he replied, “that you’d given me credit for that to start with so I didn’t have to play hardball.”
I had no graceful way to reply to that, so I did the smart thing for a change and kept my mouth shut.
“We’re agreed, then?”
“We’re agreed. But I’m going to use a puppet simulacrum. There’s no way in Heaven or Hell that I’m actually shapeshifting into the form of a household pet.”
“Whatever makes you happy, Andrew.”
“Blow it out your ear, David. Now, how about some more cheesecake?”
