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falcongrrlAnnnnd......they're off!!
I started my novel this morning. WOO HOO!!!!!!!!
Here's the beginning behind an lj cut.
Good luck to everyone who's entering...may we all cross the finish line. :-D
A+
Time has a way of getting away from Sam, even under the best of circumstances. She keeps sneaking looks at her watch, as she gulps air and takes huge strides across the sidewalk. The umbrella stroller bumps and shakes under her hands and sweat drips down her face and body, making her shirt stick to her skin. She can’t stop now; she’s almost there. She glances down at the Camster whose hair is sticking to her head, wet with perspiration, whose head is lolling over to the side and whose eyes remain closed, in spite of the jarring bumps each time Sam pushes the stroller over some uneven place in the sidewalk. Good. Let her sleep, Sam thinks, and pushes herself just a little harder. She glances at her watch again. Damn. She moves into a steady trot, willing her body not to let her down, though she’s tired, the kind of tired that comes from staying up late doing nothing.
If it goes by now I’ll see it, and I’ll know I missed it, Sam thinks, though exactly how knowing helps her she’s not sure. There’s always the possibility that the bus went by minutes before the road came into view; this is not an exact science. Sometimes they run early; sometimes late. About the only thing Sam can rely upon is that she herself will be running late. But she has to catch this bus; she can’t be late to the daycare again.
Her arms ache as she clasps the rubber grips of the stroller. Flimsy thing, at least it’s light enough not to be too hard to carry. The stop is close enough to be within her reach now and she hasn’t seen a bus go by. Good. She’s slowed down to a fast walk again, wills herself to move, by God, to keep moving, as sweat continues to run down her back and legs, her hair becoming wet around her face and the back of her neck.
Damn, it’s hot.
She’s finally reached the stop, and she hits the tiny brakes on the back of the stroller with her foot quickly before letting go of the handles, making sure to stay a safe distance from the busy street. She’s gasping for air at this point. It’s good Cammie’s asleep; she doesn’t want to have to fight with her right now about staying in the stroller. Now that Cam’s walking, she doesn’t like being told she can’t. Well, wanting to be free of restraint isn’t such a bad thing, Sam supposes.
Still catching her breath, Sam gazes down at the sleeping form. Her daughter takes Sam’s breath away for different reasons. Blond ringlets lie wet against her chubby toddler face, her lips forming a perfect ‘o’ in sleep, her eyes darting under the lids. Baby dreams. Sam aaahs to herself. Good, they’ve made it this far, and her sweetie pie is still resting.
Sam’s eyes narrow as she looks into oncoming traffic, keeping an eye out for the bus. Hurry up and wait. Hurry up and wait. If anyone had suggested to her two years ago that she’d soon be relying on public transportation, she’d have said they were crazy. Yet, here she was. Life has a way of surprising you, Sam thinks…good surprises and bad, sometimes both together. Sometimes just surprise is all. She sees the tippy top of the bus edging out over the other cars. Reaching down, she unbuckles each side of the restraining device.
This part’s tricky. She gently, slowly (don’t think about the bus don’t think about it) picks Camster up, placing her against her back, edging her into the right position, jiggling her up and down. Still sleeping. Good. With another hand she flips the lock on the stroller, then moves to close it with two hands, edging Cammie around so she can use the hand resting under the child to help. Don’t wake up, please, don’t wake up. Cammie’s cranky upon wakening, and Sam could do without disturbing the other passengers.
Stroller folded up finally, she leans it against her body and reaches into her pocket, only to realize that she’s forgotten to bring change. Damn. At least she has money this time. Maybe someone on the bus will have quarters. She unfurls a wadded bill as the bus stops in front of her, its brakes squealing a greeting. Still carrying the sleeping child, the stroller, she lumbers up to the steps, managing to get the stroller hand on the handrail to propel herself up the stairs and into the waiting bus. Finally. Made it. She stops in front of the driver, trying to catch the eye of one of the passengers, but they’re all looking down.
“I’m sorry; I don’t have change today,” Sam says breathlessly, and smiles at the driver in her best ingratiating manner. “Here’s a dollar.”
“Anyone have change?” the bus driver yells out to the rest of the bus. No one answers.
“Change!” he repeats more loudly, but no one’s offering.
“Just go sit down,” he says, pocketing the dollar. Sam wonders if the money will ever make it to its proper destination. Somehow she doubts it, but doesn’t care, as long as she does. She feels the weight of the sleeping form against her. As long as we do, she amends mentally. Lurching up the aisle, she drops down heavily in the seat, the baby’s head thudding against her shoulder slightly. Still asleep. Good. Sam rests, finally, edging Cammie into a better position on her lap, tucking the stroller away. It won’t do to get too comfortable; they have a transfer to make in a matter of minutes. But for now, Sam can rest.
I started my novel this morning. WOO HOO!!!!!!!!
Here's the beginning behind an lj cut.
Good luck to everyone who's entering...may we all cross the finish line. :-D
A+
Time has a way of getting away from Sam, even under the best of circumstances. She keeps sneaking looks at her watch, as she gulps air and takes huge strides across the sidewalk. The umbrella stroller bumps and shakes under her hands and sweat drips down her face and body, making her shirt stick to her skin. She can’t stop now; she’s almost there. She glances down at the Camster whose hair is sticking to her head, wet with perspiration, whose head is lolling over to the side and whose eyes remain closed, in spite of the jarring bumps each time Sam pushes the stroller over some uneven place in the sidewalk. Good. Let her sleep, Sam thinks, and pushes herself just a little harder. She glances at her watch again. Damn. She moves into a steady trot, willing her body not to let her down, though she’s tired, the kind of tired that comes from staying up late doing nothing.
If it goes by now I’ll see it, and I’ll know I missed it, Sam thinks, though exactly how knowing helps her she’s not sure. There’s always the possibility that the bus went by minutes before the road came into view; this is not an exact science. Sometimes they run early; sometimes late. About the only thing Sam can rely upon is that she herself will be running late. But she has to catch this bus; she can’t be late to the daycare again.
Her arms ache as she clasps the rubber grips of the stroller. Flimsy thing, at least it’s light enough not to be too hard to carry. The stop is close enough to be within her reach now and she hasn’t seen a bus go by. Good. She’s slowed down to a fast walk again, wills herself to move, by God, to keep moving, as sweat continues to run down her back and legs, her hair becoming wet around her face and the back of her neck.
Damn, it’s hot.
She’s finally reached the stop, and she hits the tiny brakes on the back of the stroller with her foot quickly before letting go of the handles, making sure to stay a safe distance from the busy street. She’s gasping for air at this point. It’s good Cammie’s asleep; she doesn’t want to have to fight with her right now about staying in the stroller. Now that Cam’s walking, she doesn’t like being told she can’t. Well, wanting to be free of restraint isn’t such a bad thing, Sam supposes.
Still catching her breath, Sam gazes down at the sleeping form. Her daughter takes Sam’s breath away for different reasons. Blond ringlets lie wet against her chubby toddler face, her lips forming a perfect ‘o’ in sleep, her eyes darting under the lids. Baby dreams. Sam aaahs to herself. Good, they’ve made it this far, and her sweetie pie is still resting.
Sam’s eyes narrow as she looks into oncoming traffic, keeping an eye out for the bus. Hurry up and wait. Hurry up and wait. If anyone had suggested to her two years ago that she’d soon be relying on public transportation, she’d have said they were crazy. Yet, here she was. Life has a way of surprising you, Sam thinks…good surprises and bad, sometimes both together. Sometimes just surprise is all. She sees the tippy top of the bus edging out over the other cars. Reaching down, she unbuckles each side of the restraining device.
This part’s tricky. She gently, slowly (don’t think about the bus don’t think about it) picks Camster up, placing her against her back, edging her into the right position, jiggling her up and down. Still sleeping. Good. With another hand she flips the lock on the stroller, then moves to close it with two hands, edging Cammie around so she can use the hand resting under the child to help. Don’t wake up, please, don’t wake up. Cammie’s cranky upon wakening, and Sam could do without disturbing the other passengers.
Stroller folded up finally, she leans it against her body and reaches into her pocket, only to realize that she’s forgotten to bring change. Damn. At least she has money this time. Maybe someone on the bus will have quarters. She unfurls a wadded bill as the bus stops in front of her, its brakes squealing a greeting. Still carrying the sleeping child, the stroller, she lumbers up to the steps, managing to get the stroller hand on the handrail to propel herself up the stairs and into the waiting bus. Finally. Made it. She stops in front of the driver, trying to catch the eye of one of the passengers, but they’re all looking down.
“I’m sorry; I don’t have change today,” Sam says breathlessly, and smiles at the driver in her best ingratiating manner. “Here’s a dollar.”
“Anyone have change?” the bus driver yells out to the rest of the bus. No one answers.
“Change!” he repeats more loudly, but no one’s offering.
“Just go sit down,” he says, pocketing the dollar. Sam wonders if the money will ever make it to its proper destination. Somehow she doubts it, but doesn’t care, as long as she does. She feels the weight of the sleeping form against her. As long as we do, she amends mentally. Lurching up the aisle, she drops down heavily in the seat, the baby’s head thudding against her shoulder slightly. Still asleep. Good. Sam rests, finally, edging Cammie into a better position on her lap, tucking the stroller away. It won’t do to get too comfortable; they have a transfer to make in a matter of minutes. But for now, Sam can rest.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2004-11-01 05:08 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-11-01 09:29 pm (UTC)I'm actually a big fan of both King's style and characterization. I just think his plots get away from him sometimes, and like his endings spin off in wild directions, which can ruin a book for me.
You can always be counted on to read my work and comment seriously upon it. I so love that. Let me know when I can return the favor!
C.