Camp NaNo – April 2013 – Week 3 Recap (and prepping for pitching, gah!)
So, basic stats:
Starting word count on March 31: 55,380
Word count @ end of Week 2: 65,039
Total words written so far: 9,659
Words left to hit goal: 14,961
This past week sucked. (Yeah, while the bombings and explosions were happening in Boston and Texas, my family life was… almost falling apart. Literally at the same time. And then there was the OKC bombing anniversary. You’re lucky I’m not an emotional mess right now.) It’s a miracle that I wrote as much as I did, and somehow I have to be super-productive this week.
I’ve finally written a few pitches also. Want to help me out and tell me which one you like best? Suggestions/constructive crit also welcome :D.
Sachi, the sole survivor of genocide, finds fate requires a greater sacrifice than she was ever prepared to give when she falls in love with the man destined to be her executioner.
Sachi has three tasks to complete: infiltrate the capital city of those who slaughtered her race, seal away her people’s power in the ancient relic in the city, and then die. She was not supposed to fall in love with her executioner.
Sachi is the last of her race, the last to access their power, and she must seal it away in an ancient relic before she dies or that power will become uncontrollable.
But to reach the relic, Sachi must infiltrate the capital city of the Kashtophim – those who slaughtered her people – and it’s not a matter of if she’s caught, but when.
Vote please! 😀 And comment, and make suggestions, and… okay, just if you see anything that can be improved, let me know! Or let me know WHY you like a particular pitch.
Camp NaNo Excerpt:
I remembered what the risis was meant to be.
Aritsis. Memories and voices of the past filled my consciousness. I’d only barely held them back until Taphim was out the door.
The fire flickered and sparked. I pulled my legs up, hugging them to my chest, and rested my chin on my knees. I couldn’t stop shaking. Couldn’t stop the horror and grief from filling me.
A young woman – still more girl than woman, at times, just barely past her Naming – watches shyly, hopefully, as the boy who has been smiling at her for days crosses over to her. He holds a bouquet of wildflowers, with dried stalks of wheat spread through it.
She bounces on the balls of her feet, pulling the knitted wrap close around her shoulders. Spring was almost there, but winter’s chill still clung to the air, especially in the early morning. But that only meant it was time for this, time for courting.
He holds it out to her, not speaking a word. She understands. If she were initiating this, she would be tongue-tied too. Her pulse surges with anticipation.
She accepts the bouquet, a smile spreading across her face.
I felt the first tears begin to fall down my face. I would never have a boy court me like that – I would never have Taphim court me like that.