Here’s a chunk from today’s NaNoWriMo scribblings. I confess that I have lost a bit of inspiration about what’s going on in Grace Awakening Destiny, (Book 4) I’ve decided that any novel writing counts, so long as it’s new writing. I have some holes I want to patch in Grace Awakening Myth, (Book 3) and here is a patch for your entertainment:
“ARES! I shouted. “Get out here, you coward!” I stomped in a circle around a foggy clearing, trying to force it into something less ethereal.
“Shouting is so immature, Orpheus,” declared a bored feminine voice, manifesting a throne behind her.. “Aren’t you a little old for such theatrics?” She looked down her elegant nose and then added, “But of course, you’re all about the theatre, aren’t you?”
“Hera. Isn’t Ares a little old to be sending his mommy out to fight his battles?”
She smiled, but it was a dangerous thing, like the tantalizing blossom of a poisonous plant. “My son is busy right now. Unlike you, he has important things to do.”
“Your definition of important and mine are rather different. What is he doing? Is he fueling some holy war or training up Middle Eastern terrorists? Doesn’t the Earthly Realm deserve a break from war?”
“The humans don’t want a break from war, silly boy. Giving up war would mean giving up their quest for wealth and power. Humans are all about power. They all want to be in control. They get it by buying favour. They get it by killing little men, so they can crawl on their backs, to attain what the little men don’t even dare to dream about. Their glory is being trodden upon by those climbing over their pathetic lives. They’re just ants, Orpheus. And if Ares wants to play with his magnifying glass, why should anyone stop him? It’s all humans are good for, after all, entertaining us.” She shrugged, dismissing the entire human race with the slightest of movements of her shoulder.
“My wife isn’t an ant. My friends aren’t ants.” I said.
“Wife?” she laughed. “Now you imagine that she’s your wife? I seem to recall that she is the prize of whoever wins this challenge, and victory is very unlikely to be yours. She is not ever going to be your wife again.” She stepped closer to me, and stared with eyes of ice. “My son is a god of war, Orpheus,” she spat. “He is not one of your pathetic little musician friends. He is not a dancing girl like those Graces.” She curled her lips and snarled. “He is powerful, and you will not defeat him. Now go! Return to those pathetic creatures and their pathetic lives. You are not worthy to be in this realm.”
NaNoWriMo Day 27 total: 4118 (November total 41,006)
Writing furiously this evening, after a raff of medical appointments today.