2011 NaNoWriMo Teasers. Share yours here.

11/5/2011

NaNoWriMo is underway. I'm hanging in there--still behind, but plugging away. Yesterday I made real headway and the story is FINALLY coming along (I know where I'm going now--I think).

I thought it might be fun to post a teaser just for the heck of it AND I sure would love to see what everyone else it up to. So post a teaser, a paragraph or two, in the comment section below. Oh, and add your genre, too. Just so we can have a clear idea your audience. Check back often so you can read all the other teasers. Have fun and keep on writing. The more we support one another, the more success we ALL will enjoy.

Okay, so here's mine:

Genre: YA (Second book in the Zombie West Series--unedited of course)

Moans and agitated cries intensified with the rising of the new sun. The walking dead grew more active as the day warmed their bones and thawed their warped brains. It had become so common place, like the crowing of a rooster at dawn, that Red hardly noticed the difference until the scratching and digging at the walls became more chaotic, more desperate.

"Something’s wrong." She untangled herself from Trace’s arms, waking him in the process, and climbed from their shared bed.

"What’s going on?" He anchored himself on one elbow and watched her slip on her boots and tug them into place.

"Do you hear it? They’re louder today."

13 Comments

Angela Barton link

11/5/2011 03:28:19 am

Yikes! I've got goose-bumps and daren't look out of the window!!
Good luck - keep going!
@angebarton xx

cheryl link

11/5/2011 03:31:02 am

This is YA Fantasy from yesterday's writing:

“Bel, she needs better clothing. Hers are unsuitable here in the mountains.” Airi spoke louder than normal, breaking the thick tension. Both turned to her with startled, guilty looks. They had forgotten about her.

Somehow, that didn’t bother Airi, but she knew why…she had loved once too…long ago.

“Come on, Moira, let’s find you some clothing and then you can rest.” Airi grinned down at her and gestured toward the open hallway that led to the bed chambers. Moira smiled back, but shot a shy glance up at Belamar before reluctantly drifting away from his warm strength.

Leah link

11/5/2011 06:33:46 am

Creepy!

I don't usually do this but in the spirit of zombie camaraderie, a bit from my [adult] zombie novel (also a sequel):

The merciful thing would have been to blow Mark Cahill’s brains out while he lay sprawled across his bed unconscious, but this proposition seemed impossible to Gabriel. What was possible was a series of increasingly grievous sins, from deception to incapacitation to captivity, which would ultimately culminate in killing and eating Mr. Cahill, probably while he screamed. Evil was much easier when you worked up to it in small increments. Baby steps.

Dottie Taylor link

11/5/2011 07:46:37 am

Fantasy/Paranormal Romance (unedited)

She was ten years old last time she saw Granny Mama alive. The old woman lived to a ripe old ninety-two years before deciding to make her peace. Chelsea wasn't a child anymore, but it felt so real. Like Granny was there in her bedroom. The rocking chair creaked back and forth as she slipped to her knees and rested her tired head on Granny's worn knee.

“What's the matter, little one?” Granny smiled her knowing smile. “What's scaring you?”

“Granny, I don't know what's wrong with me.” Chelsea whispered, knowing this was all a dream, probably to be forgotten by the morning.

“Why, child, there's nothing the matter with you. You're just going through the change is all.” Granny's gnarled fingers brushed through Chelsea's auburn locks. “Happens to us all soon or later. Kind of late for you, child, but you'll see, it's all gonna be fine.” Granny pursed her lips and gave that knowing laugh, her bright blue eyes twinkled with knowledge, belying her age. “It's all about who you are darlin.”

11/5/2011 07:49:39 am

Loved you excerpt... creepy, but I wanna read more!!!

Dottie :)

Ileandra Young link

11/5/2011 08:50:41 am

Hmm, okay... Fantasy in that case, with a bit of action hurled in (unedited as NaNo demands)

Alyssa started to cry, startled by the horrendous noise. She put out her tiny hands and kicked her feet, rocking back and forth in the cradle.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Florian had scooped her up, blankets and all and pressed her close to his body. She stopped crying at once, looking curiously up at him with her bright green eyes.

He took a moment to smile at her, to comfort her and then turned to leave.

A wolf blocked his path.

A shaggy, grey beast of an animal with yellow eyes and dripping teeth. It growled at him, took a step forward on paws the size of plates. "Where are you going, tasty morsel?"

Florian swallowed heavily, convulsively gripping Alyssa tighter to his body. She wriggled protest, one tiny hand jerking out of the blankets.

"Aaah, so that is the babe we are not to kill. Give her here boy, I mean no harm to her. Master wants her."

“Never!” Florian’s voice held more defiance than he had ever imagined possible. He backed up a step.

Veronica Messegee link

11/5/2011 09:14:47 am

Water. Color. Sound that was music yet was not music. The melody elusive and haunting. Strains familiar and alien. People screaming. Or was that me? Painful burning in my lungs. Can't breathe. Can't breathe. Can't. Breathe.

I woke up gasping for breath. My chattering teeth testified to the lie that was my forehead. It was all beaded with sweat. I couldn't remember the dream, but it had a familiar feel, like a memory. I remembered music. I hummed what I remembered and I calmed, the melody soothed like a lullaby.

Where was I?

And then I remembered. It was a new home. The last family had become increasingly uncomfortable with my presence. I'd had one of my 'episodes' when I first arrived. They'd never gotten over it. It had been two years since I blacked out or I'd done anything strange when I was in one of my trances. That wasn't exactly the right description for what happened to me, but no one had come up with a better definition.

I threw off unfamiliar bed sheets and stood. I was a little dizzy from waking up in the middle of the dream. My limbs felt encased in concrete. I glanced at the clock. 2:00. It was dark. The middle of the night. I cautiously approached the door and opened it. No sound. Where was the bathroom?

I grabbed my backpack from beside the door where I'd left it and made my way down the dark hallway. I found the bathroom, entered, and after quietly closing the door, I flipped on the light switch.
Bright light temporarily blinded me. When I regained my sight, I noticed my hair sticking up on one side, my eyeliner smeared.

I slipped my hand in the permanent opening created by the broken zipper. I felt around. My hand brushed something soft. I pulled it out and brought the purple stuffed horse to my lips. I rubbed its velvety softness against me, caressing my lips and sweeping the animal across my cheek. I put it back in the bag and felt around for my make-up bag.

Locating it, I drew it out. I placed my back pack on the vanity and drew out my eyeliner. I looked around until I spotted a box of tissues. I grabbed one and wetting it under the tap, did damage control, wiping up as much of the smeared black that I could. Leaving the wet tissue in the sink, I leaned over the counter and began reapplying eyeliner around my stormy blue eyes. Blue, green, brown. The colors changing, alive. Others said my eyes were hazel, but I knew the truth.

I stepped back to eye my handy work. I tossed the liner back into my cosmetic bag. I finger combed my hair back into place then dropped my hand to rest against my thigh.

Straight brown hair. Blue eyes. Pale, pale skin. Red lips. The eyeliner thick around the entire eye, thicker at the outside corners. They looked like tear drops but they weren't where they were expected. Black tears on the outside of the eye. A reminder to never show my real tears. Never on the outside. Never.

Brooke R. Busse link

11/5/2011 01:01:48 pm

YA Supernatural

“What are you talking about, Mom? What did you do?”
Her mother froze. She snapped her mouth shut.
“What did you do?” Kierra said, panic spreading through her hest like wildfire. She screamed. “What did you do?”
Her mother didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.
Kierra stared at the pills set up like neat little houses on the table. She remembered hot chocolate and how it tasted kind of funny but Momma made her drink it all before she could go anywhere. She remembered puking up that hot chocolate hours later, seeing it mixed with the day’s food.
She ran to the sink and heaved.
And this time it wasn’t because she had been poisoned.

Rachel Cotterill link

11/6/2011 02:52:26 am

Looks like there's some awesome stuff being produced this year :)

Mine's near-future scifi, possibly YA, I haven't totally decided on the audience yet. This is the beginning:

Max rocked onto the back legs of his chair and stared out of the window, trying to ignore his teacher and classmates, glaring down through the rain to study the cars – illegally parked on double yellows – in the street below. Like any eleven-year-old schoolboy, he hated Mondays. Particularly that stage on a grey Monday morning, like this one, when he just wanted to be curled up in bed with a hot water bottle but instead had to sit here on an uncomfortable plastic chair while Miss Arnold took the register and droned on about the week ahead. Miss Arnold was particularly good at droning, he'd decided, and it seemed that every week she had something new to go on about. If it wasn't bullying at the bus stop, it was girls rolling up their skirts or boys taking off their sweaters without permission.

His ears pricked up, however, when she mentioned football. This wasn't part of the usual Monday routine of fire drills and homework diaries.

“So if you want to sign up for the tournament, you need to put your name on this sheet of paper” – she held up a page of A4 – “and then the school will write to your parents for permission.”

Max wasn't completely sure whether his parents would let him play in a football tournament, but along with all the other boys – and even some of the more sporty girls – he stood up and filed to the front of the room. When he got to the front of the line and reached for the pencil, though, Miss Arnold stopped him.

“Sorry, Max,” she said, passing the pencil back to Tommy Wilkes who was looming over his shoulder. “Naturals only.”

“Why? I don't have football genes.”

She shrugged. “Rules of the tournament. Naturals only.”

“Yeah, you can't play football with us, freak!” Tommy said, pushing Max sideways out of the way so he could reach the desk to write his name.

Max turned without thinking and punched Tommy soundly in the face. His knuckles stung with the force of the blow, but from the strange crunching under his fingers he was sure Tommy's nose was coming out worse. He watched with a mixture of pride and horror as blood began to flow from the nose, down over Tommy's arrogant smirking mouth, then dripping from his chin and onto his smart white shirt.

And then, realising the implications of what he'd done, Max turned and sprinted from the classroom.

“Maximilian Porter, come back here right now!”

Miss Arnold's voice echoed after him, but there was no way he was going to go back.

He ran through empty corridors, down stairs and to the school's front door. He knew from past experience that if he stood on tiptoes he was just about tall enough to reach the lock and let himself out into the street. He reached up and twisted the catch, pushed the door open, and stepped out into the rain.

Now he was really going to be in trouble.

Angela Scott link

11/6/2011 03:46:59 am

Wow. These teasers are AMAZING. Good work everyone. Way to tap into your creative side and produce some great stuff.

Keep writing. Keep creating. Keep imagining.

~Angela Scott

(I hope we get more).

Jenn B-H link

11/6/2011 03:57:05 am

Sweet! Nice teaser. Definitely has the reader intrigued from the get-go. I am also doing Young Adult, Contemporary, for NaNoWriMo this year.

Here's a very small snippet from my first chapter:

Cass smelled like vanilla, a signature for her and my favorite. Whenever I opened vanilla extract I felt my cheeks heat up at the thought of her. But I always convinced myself it was because of the stove on in front of me.

Sayword E. link

11/6/2011 04:07:15 am

Very nice teasers! Here is my contribution (unedited, of course).

Paranormal Romance

If someone had asked her a year ago her thoughts on returning home the answer would have most certainly been a very unladylike snort followed by voracious laughter. Even now, as she drove her car down the highway toward the town she’s vowed never to return to, she felt compelled to do just that. Why was she returning? Sure, there was the fact that she had secured a pretty damn good job at a local college, a job that would guarantee her children a free education. Well, if she could hold on until she found a man, copulated, and then raised those hypothetical children into young adults. It was a long shot, but not completely unlikely. But other than the job she couldn’t quite put her finger on exactly why she had decided to wander back to the place she had discounted from her list of desirable places long ago. What was worse, possibly, was the fact that she had decided to buy (not rent, BUY) a house, and it just happened to be the house that her grandmother had been run out of twenty years ago.
It’s official, she thought, I have lost my mind.
Her mother would be ecstatic. Of course there was that part of her that theorized that she could live in the same town as her family and never be discovered. She had no remnants of past friendships hanging on, so it was quite possible that she could sustain her anonymity for a while, but her common sense couldn’t help rearing its ugly head. The town is small and there are quite a few busybodies lurking around every corner. She would be discovered before she’d even made it to her new home. Her old home.
She raked a trembling hand through the chestnut hair that was holding a bit too many grays to suit her (thank you very much). What was with the shaking anyway? Why is it that the closer she came to her exit the more tied up in knots her stomach became?
The sudden screech wailing of Big Mama Thornton jolted her from her neurotic reverie. Fumbling, she pressed the button on her blue tooth device, “Hello?”
“Did you make it to the big ole town of Ridley yet?” It was her best friend, Ada. Finally something to be happy about.
“Not yet,” she answered. “I swear, the closer I get to this place the harder my heart pounds. I think I’m going to die of a heart attack before I get there!”
Ada laughed. “You’re going to be fine, Dez,” she said. “You’re just suffering from a bit of anxiety. As soon as you get to that fancy new house of yours take a Xanax and go to sleep. It’ll do you good.”
“Just like you to be pushing drugs at a time like this.” She couldn’t help laughing at the snort that came from the other end of the line. “I miss you already, Ada,” she choked.
“I miss you too, Chicka, but three hours isn’t that far away.”
“It seems like an eternity.”
There was a moment of silence, almost like Ada was saying a silent prayer for her, and then her friend said, “Stop worrying. You’ll be fine.”
She only hoped those words were true.

II.
It was the same.
Almost twenty years had passed and it was the same hodunk town it had been in her youth. The same place that she had spent years dreaming of escaping. Why had she willingly come back? At the town square she pulled her 2008 mini cooper to the side of the road and stepped out, making sure to avoid the motorists passing by at the warp speed of twenty-five. She supposed it was a wise limit to have on this stretch of road. After all, it was the “main strip” and the elementary school was just to the left of the town square.
Making her way around the red and white striped car she’d fallen in love with the moment her foot touched the lot, she followed the pavement up to the gazebo that was now smack dab in the middle of the yard she’d spent countless recess periods sitting cross-legged and making daisy chains while telling her best girlfriends about her plans to bust out of this prison!
She smiled at the memory.
Taking a seat facing the two-story brick structure that had seen her at her best (and worst) pre-teen years, she remembered the field day that had witnessed her winning a first place ribbon for the egg and spoon race. “Desmond Natalia Harris wins!” her teacher had yelled, and she had never been more proud of herself. Her mother had even managed to muster up a great “WAHOO” upon hearing the news of her victory.
She sighed as she stretched out her limbs, lacing her fingers together she rested her hands on the back of her head. The egg and spoon race wasn’t all she’d won in this yard. In sixth grade she’d finally landed Travis Headley, the cutest most talented boy in the whole school. At least that was her thought at the time. Turns out he was just a punk who li

Alexa Chipman link

11/6/2011 01:10:26 pm

Steampunk YA novel 2011 NaNoWriMo teaser:

When Sonya marched out of the shed, it was almost smack dab into a face full of feathers. After the initial shock, Sonya realized it was a lovely little hat that her companion was offering. She already looked silly enough, might as well go the whole hog. Standing still and trying not to look at the BBQ size skewers that Miss Caedmon was deftly putting the thing on with, Sonya realized that the broad brim really did help keep the sun off and it wasn’t too heavy or uncomfortable. The gloves, however, were too much, despite the horrified face of Miss Caedmon. She’d be sweltering in them, and who needed gloves anyway. Sonya was not planning on doing any gardening.

2011 NaNoWriMo Teasers. Share yours here.

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2011 NaNoWriMo Teasers. Share yours here.

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