Post by annieofwessex on Jan 7, 2012 21:59:54 GMT -5
Hello there everyone! I just realized that I hadn't posted any excerpts this month, and that perhaps some feedback would boost my morale. The following excerpt comes from Chapter One of my novel. Feedback is highly appreciated. (PS- beware some mild language)
~~~
Byron didn’t care to participate in the events that occurred during the carriage ride. He just sat back into the plush seat and watched the crowds gape as his aeroship flew away. He really couldn’t blame them for staring-the ship was a sight to behold. It was huge- practically a floating city- and sleek in its design.
It was a Hathaway Private, designed by Charles Hathaway Jr. himself and given only to members of his immediate family. Riding in one meant not only that you were filthy rich beyond any comic metaphor’s power- it also meant that you were closely related to the owner of the biggest company in Gaean history. Byron couldn’t help but smirk as he recalled the story he’d been told so many times as a child.
Being a Hathaway (even only distantly) meant you were descended from Charles Hathaway Sr., a man with a both a brain and trouser pockets too big for his popper station. Born the son of a milkmaid and a shepherd, Hathaway turned himself into the richest man in the world by discovering that-when heated- Lillumun floats. Perhaps the young Hathaway was a genius, or perhaps he just had a penchant for arson, but either way he discovered that the seemingly useless metal could be heated to carry heavy objects into the air. After hard years of manual labor (and puberty) 25 year old Charles Number One opened Hathaway Aeroships Inc. with the generous donations of some childhood friends. Within a year, aeroships had revolutionized the world culture and had put billions of notes into Charles’ now too small pockets.
So that’s why, Byron thought to himself, mimicking his mother’s thickly accented croons, Being a Hathaway is more than just a name- it’s a way of life. You must hold your head higher than the rest, you must walk faster than the rest, and you must always make sure your aeroship is bigger and better than anyone else’s.
The carriage screeched to a halt, and Byron’s forehead collided with the lacquered wood of the carriage inside. Pressing his palm to the bruise he was sure would be there soon, Byron stuck his head out of the carriage window.
“Driver!” He called, his voice taut like string stretched too far. “What in the Hell do you think you are doing stopping like that? If I have a concussion, sir, you will-”
The driver wasn’t listening.He was-like everyone else in the square- staring towards another far less grand aeroship, or at least something going on near it. There was shouting, but it was indistinguishable from the cries of the crowd. Byron kicked the carriage door open and headed straight for the mass of people.
~~~
There you have it! I don't want to post too much this month, because I'm paranoid and don't want someone to steal my novel (I trust my fellow WriMos, but not some random novel-moocher from the internet). Therefore, my excerpts will be teensy weensy.
However- and this is just a thought- after this month is over, maybe we could have 'novel exchanges'. We can 'trade' novels for critiquing. Just a thought, so let me know what you think. Anyway, enough of my rambling- I have 1600 words to write!
~~~
Byron didn’t care to participate in the events that occurred during the carriage ride. He just sat back into the plush seat and watched the crowds gape as his aeroship flew away. He really couldn’t blame them for staring-the ship was a sight to behold. It was huge- practically a floating city- and sleek in its design.
It was a Hathaway Private, designed by Charles Hathaway Jr. himself and given only to members of his immediate family. Riding in one meant not only that you were filthy rich beyond any comic metaphor’s power- it also meant that you were closely related to the owner of the biggest company in Gaean history. Byron couldn’t help but smirk as he recalled the story he’d been told so many times as a child.
Being a Hathaway (even only distantly) meant you were descended from Charles Hathaway Sr., a man with a both a brain and trouser pockets too big for his popper station. Born the son of a milkmaid and a shepherd, Hathaway turned himself into the richest man in the world by discovering that-when heated- Lillumun floats. Perhaps the young Hathaway was a genius, or perhaps he just had a penchant for arson, but either way he discovered that the seemingly useless metal could be heated to carry heavy objects into the air. After hard years of manual labor (and puberty) 25 year old Charles Number One opened Hathaway Aeroships Inc. with the generous donations of some childhood friends. Within a year, aeroships had revolutionized the world culture and had put billions of notes into Charles’ now too small pockets.
So that’s why, Byron thought to himself, mimicking his mother’s thickly accented croons, Being a Hathaway is more than just a name- it’s a way of life. You must hold your head higher than the rest, you must walk faster than the rest, and you must always make sure your aeroship is bigger and better than anyone else’s.
The carriage screeched to a halt, and Byron’s forehead collided with the lacquered wood of the carriage inside. Pressing his palm to the bruise he was sure would be there soon, Byron stuck his head out of the carriage window.
“Driver!” He called, his voice taut like string stretched too far. “What in the Hell do you think you are doing stopping like that? If I have a concussion, sir, you will-”
The driver wasn’t listening.He was-like everyone else in the square- staring towards another far less grand aeroship, or at least something going on near it. There was shouting, but it was indistinguishable from the cries of the crowd. Byron kicked the carriage door open and headed straight for the mass of people.
~~~
There you have it! I don't want to post too much this month, because I'm paranoid and don't want someone to steal my novel (I trust my fellow WriMos, but not some random novel-moocher from the internet). Therefore, my excerpts will be teensy weensy.
However- and this is just a thought- after this month is over, maybe we could have 'novel exchanges'. We can 'trade' novels for critiquing. Just a thought, so let me know what you think. Anyway, enough of my rambling- I have 1600 words to write!