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I do believe I've almost written a novel...
I am still staring at my wordcount in disbelief, but there it is: Camwolf has got up to 60k. And really, there's not a lot more of it that needs writing before I can call the first draft done. Which is pretty darn amazing as this time last week I was in the middle of a huge downer about the thing and doubting it'd ever get finished.
(For those who haven't suffered me rabbiting on about it already: It's about werewolves, set at a Cambridge college)
And yes, I know it's got to go to beta yet, and no doubt there are trying times ahead as I rehash the bits that don't, after all, work. And my back is absolutely killing me after typing all day. But... this is really very close to an honest-to-goodness novel. *is still a bit stunned*
So to celebrate, I'll leave you with an excerpt:
Walking into the Senior Combination Room next day, Nick made a bee-line for Nadia, or Dr Pawlaczek, as she was known to the students. She was one of the English fellows and a good friend. Five foot two of boundless energy that belied her girth, she had dark eyes, dark hair and a positively Stygian sense of humour. She’d sussed him out for a fellow nonconformist, as she put it, within five minutes of meeting him, and had winkled out most of his life story within the next ten.
With one important omission, of course.
Nadia gave him a wicked smile. "So, dearie, what have you done to our young Adonis?"
She’d been referring to Julian like that ever since Nick had most unwisely confessed his ridiculous crush to her. "Nothing," he protested guiltily.
Clutching a ream of essays to her ample bosom, Nadia raised a bushy eyebrow. "Oh? So why has he started looking like a rabbit caught in the headlights every time he catches sight of you? And don’t give me that look. I’ve run over enough of the little buggers to recognise the expression."
Despite himself, Nick smiled. "I wouldn’t be so open about it if I were you. The Animal Liberation Front has a sizeable membership amongst the students, you know."
Nadia snorted formidably. "Bleeding heart liberals, the lot of them. And don’t try to change the subject. What have you done to the poor boy?" There was a certain steeliness in her expression that suggested she wouldn’t be put off.
Nick sighed. "Nothing. Honestly. I merely came across him – " he winced at her comically widened eyes, and cursed his unfortunate choice of words – " I mean, I just happened to see him the other night. With a man. That’s all."
Nadia’s eyes widened for real. "Come on, tell Aunty Nadia. I want a blow-by-blow account." The elbow in his ribs left him in no doubt the double entendre was entirely intentional.
Nick gave her a crooked smile. "You know, one day you will have to explain this fascination with gay men having sex to me. You don’t even like men."
Nadia grinned roguishly. "Oh, you’re not so bad, old thing."
"You know what I mean. And I’d rather not, if you don’t mind. Tell you about it, I mean." Nick sighed, and looked away. It genuinely hurt, remembering the sight of Julian with someone else. He was surprised to feel an arm slipping around his waist.
"You silly old sod. He’s much too young for you, you know."
"I know, I know. Not to mention too pretty."
"Bugger that. You’re not that hideous, you know. If I wasn’t strictly into the distaff side, I’d shag you myself."
Nick laughed, as he was supposed to.
"Still, I think you ought to say something to him," she continued. "Poor little sod probably hasn’t told his parents he’s a poof. Must be worried you’re going to give him away."
Nick looked at her. Could that be it? "I – yes, of course I will. God knows I wouldn’t want him to be worried about that sort of thing."
"Good. Now, I’m not one to gossip," she acknowledged the lie with a devilish twist to her mouth, "but judging from his essays, that young man’s seen entirely too much of the darker side of life for a lad his age. Wouldn’t want to be adding to his troubles, would we? Coffee?" She didn’t wait for an answer, simply pouring him a cup. "And don’t forget you’re coming round for dinner next week. Marjorie’s got a new recipe she’s simply gagging to try out on you."
Nick smiled. "How could I forget? I’ll be there, Nads."
She winced. "Nick, darling, please don’t call me that. It makes it sound like you’re talking to your testicles."
(For those who haven't suffered me rabbiting on about it already: It's about werewolves, set at a Cambridge college)
And yes, I know it's got to go to beta yet, and no doubt there are trying times ahead as I rehash the bits that don't, after all, work. And my back is absolutely killing me after typing all day. But... this is really very close to an honest-to-goodness novel. *is still a bit stunned*
So to celebrate, I'll leave you with an excerpt:
Walking into the Senior Combination Room next day, Nick made a bee-line for Nadia, or Dr Pawlaczek, as she was known to the students. She was one of the English fellows and a good friend. Five foot two of boundless energy that belied her girth, she had dark eyes, dark hair and a positively Stygian sense of humour. She’d sussed him out for a fellow nonconformist, as she put it, within five minutes of meeting him, and had winkled out most of his life story within the next ten.
With one important omission, of course.
Nadia gave him a wicked smile. "So, dearie, what have you done to our young Adonis?"
She’d been referring to Julian like that ever since Nick had most unwisely confessed his ridiculous crush to her. "Nothing," he protested guiltily.
Clutching a ream of essays to her ample bosom, Nadia raised a bushy eyebrow. "Oh? So why has he started looking like a rabbit caught in the headlights every time he catches sight of you? And don’t give me that look. I’ve run over enough of the little buggers to recognise the expression."
Despite himself, Nick smiled. "I wouldn’t be so open about it if I were you. The Animal Liberation Front has a sizeable membership amongst the students, you know."
Nadia snorted formidably. "Bleeding heart liberals, the lot of them. And don’t try to change the subject. What have you done to the poor boy?" There was a certain steeliness in her expression that suggested she wouldn’t be put off.
Nick sighed. "Nothing. Honestly. I merely came across him – " he winced at her comically widened eyes, and cursed his unfortunate choice of words – " I mean, I just happened to see him the other night. With a man. That’s all."
Nadia’s eyes widened for real. "Come on, tell Aunty Nadia. I want a blow-by-blow account." The elbow in his ribs left him in no doubt the double entendre was entirely intentional.
Nick gave her a crooked smile. "You know, one day you will have to explain this fascination with gay men having sex to me. You don’t even like men."
Nadia grinned roguishly. "Oh, you’re not so bad, old thing."
"You know what I mean. And I’d rather not, if you don’t mind. Tell you about it, I mean." Nick sighed, and looked away. It genuinely hurt, remembering the sight of Julian with someone else. He was surprised to feel an arm slipping around his waist.
"You silly old sod. He’s much too young for you, you know."
"I know, I know. Not to mention too pretty."
"Bugger that. You’re not that hideous, you know. If I wasn’t strictly into the distaff side, I’d shag you myself."
Nick laughed, as he was supposed to.
"Still, I think you ought to say something to him," she continued. "Poor little sod probably hasn’t told his parents he’s a poof. Must be worried you’re going to give him away."
Nick looked at her. Could that be it? "I – yes, of course I will. God knows I wouldn’t want him to be worried about that sort of thing."
"Good. Now, I’m not one to gossip," she acknowledged the lie with a devilish twist to her mouth, "but judging from his essays, that young man’s seen entirely too much of the darker side of life for a lad his age. Wouldn’t want to be adding to his troubles, would we? Coffee?" She didn’t wait for an answer, simply pouring him a cup. "And don’t forget you’re coming round for dinner next week. Marjorie’s got a new recipe she’s simply gagging to try out on you."
Nick smiled. "How could I forget? I’ll be there, Nads."
She winced. "Nick, darling, please don’t call me that. It makes it sound like you’re talking to your testicles."