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Genre: Literary Fiction
About Dot.Location: Portland, OR, USA Home Region: Website: http://TheWritingVein.blogspot.com Favorite writers: Natalie Goldberg, Miranda July, Jimmy Santiago Baca, Suzan-Lori Parks, Lucille Clifton, Donna Leon, Jasper Fforde, Kate Wilhelm, Ariel Gore, Jennifer Egan, Favorite music: Moby, didgeridoo, Buddha Bar sets, Joanna Newsom, The Decemberists; honestly, depends on my mood, what I'm writing, where I am : sometimes it's the espresso machine at the local cafe Non-noveling interests: swiming, walking, gardening, theater, travelling, my cat, the beach, creating art (collage, drawing, painting, crafty things), reading -- but doesn't everything relate to noveling when we really look at it? |
Joined: juin 15, 2008 This Year: Official Participant NaNoWriMo History: NaNoWriMo posts: 39 NaNoWriMo buddies: 6
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Synopsis: Open Boxes
A writer and her partner , (a mental health therapist), a mystery woman who seems to be a bit of a problem, a man with a scheme looking for backers with money, a news archivist and a news reporter, a line of French in a book, a disappearance, and an occurrence which could be a dissociative fugue -- or is it manifestation of a past life?
Excerpt: Open Boxes
He tried again to open his eyes but nothing changed. He was not even sure if his eyes were closed or open. What he did know is that he could not see.
“Where the fuck am I?” He pushed all of the air out of his lungs to propel the words out and to anyone anywhere nearby who might hear him. The last he remembered. He could not remember where he was or what was. He remembered being on a street. A small street. A few houses. Many houses? He could not remember. Houses, yes. He was walking, maybe. Or was he riding or being taken or taking?
He remembered an impact. The smell of something hot and burning, something wrong burning. Something falling. Shouting, no screaming, no something loud like horns. Sirens. He remembered sirens.
