A Healthy Dose of PMS ~#

[Psychotic Maniacal Sanity]

~Saturday 25th July, 2009.

Now playing: Repo! The Genetic Opera - Zydrate Anatomy

Zydrate comes in a little glass vial. A little glass vial? A little glass vial! And the little glass vial goes into the gun like battery...

I'm really happy with how my novel is progressing at the moment. Even though I've been ill lately, I've managed to keep up with my word count pretty well, so at the moment am sitting at around 31.5k. I definitely like this progress. <3

Anyway, I've not written today, and that's because tomorrow morning at half nine I'll be on a flight to Ireland, where I'm going with my family for a holiday. I'll be gone for a week, and while I hope to get a lot of writing done, I don't know if I'll actually hit my goals for the whole while. (If I do, that'll mean I have something stupid like 10k to type up when I get back! Ick.) I'll still be writing though, rest assured. :] I don't intend to let this novel slip away from me that easily. Right now I'm about to write out by hand all the little computerised notes I have on my RoughDraft file, and the last couple of paragraphs I wrote, and then I'm ready to go. >D

Wish me luck!

Words written today: None. I've been busy! =O

Word count: 31,566

Lines for yesterday:

Although I know this request should probably make me feel unsettled, fiercely loyal to my friends and disgruntled at their rejection, I only feel like I am floating on air. Juliana thinks that I am special. Me, not them. The thrill that ripples through my body is similar to the feeling of jumping to miss the last few steps at the bottom of a staircase: I know that if things go wrong, if I miss, then I will fall and I will hurt myself badly; the excitement of the jump is stimulating enough that I don’t care.

And the zydrate gun goes somewhere against your anatomy. And when the gun goes off, it sparks and you're ready for surgery. Surgery!

 

[DesertRoseFallen]

Well all that fresh Irish air will get you writing! I hope you have fun and I wish you luck with your goals. Loved the snippet of your writing by the way.

 

[Psychotic Maniacal Sanity]

That Irish air was indeed fresh. And very very wet. emo I probably only wrote about 2,000 words, and it's all hand-written so I now have the job of typing it all up before I can write anything new. Ick, I hate that.

And I'm glad you like that snippet. =3  

[DesertRoseFallen]

Eeee how did you A Levels go?
I pass my AS grades, but I don't get my ICT until next year as its a two year course. I got A for English Language, B for DT, C's for General studies and Media. Eeee.

 

[Psychotic Maniacal Sanity]

Oops, I just asked you what you got in the progress thread. rofl

I got enough to get into university for my course, but I'm not fully satisfied.

I got A's in Psychology and in General Studies, and B's in English Literature and History. It's the English one I'm most upset about. I got A's in every single exam until the last one, when I hurt my wrist again and ended up only getting a D. It brought my grade down.

But! I got into uni, so actually it doesn't matter any more! Once you have a degree, nobody cares about your A level grades. XD American Literature with Creative Writing here I come! =D

Well done on your grades by the way! heart  

[DesertRoseFallen]

Wow you did good! Then again, I would be upset if I didn't get an A in English but...I'm like that sad Well, you did get into Norwich, so well done!!! biggrin

 

[Psychotic Maniacal Sanity]

Yeah, I was upset about History as well, but because of my wrist mishap last year I kind of predicted I wouldn't get an A in it. XD I got an A in English last year, which is what annoys me. I must have only been a couple UMS marks off that damn A. emo

And Norwich is going to be amazing! I already have my accommodation on campus sorted out, and I'm meeting people on my course through Facebook. They all seem really nice, so I hope I can get on with them okay in person. I'd hopefully want a house with some of them next year because we'll all have a year abroad at the same time then. XD  

[Psychotic Maniacal Sanity]

I should really update, but for the moment I'm feeling more like posting another excerpt. If you could read it and tell me what you think that'd be brilliant? If not, it's all good. rofl

It's probably all I will post, since I want to keep the rest to myself (but of course any feedback about flow and stuff would help me at this stage).

Gunmetal and Lace
Chapter one
Kitty Taylor

The next time I am conscious, the darkness of the room is gone, replaced by a blinding lemon light. I realise after a moment that it is the walls which are lemon, not the light. It is late in the evening by the looks of things, and I am lying on my back, gazing up at the cracked paint above me. From the centre of the ceiling hangs a curious chandelier, not lit by candles but a strange kind of glowing brightness. I have never seen anything like this before, and I have to admit that it frightens me, distracting from most else around.

The bed underneath me is hard, but better than stone; the mumble of human voices, whilst somewhat irritating, is a welcome respite from that dreadful echoing silence. After a while, I am interrupted from my study of the strange hanging lamp by a gentle hand laid on my thigh. I try to focus my eyes, but it is harder than it should be.

“Poor child,” mutters the owner of the hand. Her voice is soft, almost in a whisper, but stern. “Looks likes she’s been in the wars, alright. Where did they find her?”

“Down the bottom,” replies another voice. This one comes from somewhere on my left, and I try to turn my head to see her, but cannot find the energy. “In a room down there. Empty storage.”

“What in God’s name was she doing down there? She looks like she hasn’t eaten in days.”

“Longer than days. You can see her ribs an’ everythin’.”

I am having a hard time deciphering the accent that they speak with, but I put this down to my tiredness. Confusion is only to be expected.

The woman with her hand on my thigh moves upwards so that she swims into view. I still cannot focus my eyes too well, but I can see her at least. She is tall, thin, with an angular face and dark features. She is dressed in some kind of white smock, concern etched into the language of her limbs.

“She’s awake, look,” says the woman I cannot see. “Wonder if she’ll be able to help.”

“I doubt it,” mutters the other. “Have you seen the look on her face? It looks like she can’t even see me.”

“I can see you,” I mumble, my tongue tying itself in knots with the effort of eloquent expression. The words come out as a stream of grunts, but it is better than nothing. I have drawn her attention, and she leans in closer. I smell peppermint on her breath, see that her eyes are not brown but blue, and then her face breaks into a smile.

“You are awake, then,” she says kindly. “How are you feeling, child?”

I cannot properly describe how I am feeling: I am feeling heavy, like a lead-weight; I feel as though my bones have been scraped of all strength; I feel weak and childish. Worst of all, I cannot remember how I am supposed to feel. “Better,” I say. “A little better.”

“Good, good,” she replies in a happy manner. “That’s all that counts, eh?”

I try to nod, but cannot manage it. “Yes. I suppose.” I allow a pause as she begins to check my temperature, running her cool fingers over my forehead in tantalising whispers of ice. As she moves to rearrange the pillows on which I am resting, I speak again. “Where am I?” This is the most pressing matter at hand. “What happened?”

“She knows as little as we do,” says the anonymous voice. “Poor sod.”

“Language, Lyddie,” warns the one in the white smock. She turns back to me and her smile shrinks a little. “Can you tell me what you remember?” she asks, avoiding my questions. I don’t know whether she does it on purpose, but I am in no fit state to reprimand. Instead I try to think.

“I remember the room,” I answer thoughtfully. “I remember the darkness, and the cold damp. The trunk. The dripping.”

“And before that?”

“I remember...” I trail off, drawing a blank. This is not right; I am missing something. “Before that I remember...” No. Not the blackness. I have mentioned that already. “I remember... Nothing.”

The pain of this revelation is great, and I cannot help but allow a small tear to fall onto my cheek. The nurse wipes it away silently, and brushes my forehead again. The hair there is damp with sweat, but feels as though it has been cleaned. It makes me cry more.

“Hush child, hush,” she whispers. She leans closer again and I am engulfed in peppermint. This makes me feel a little better; somehow it is familiar, comforting. “Can you tell me anything? It’s okay if you can’t; you’ve been sleeping for a long while here, and who knows how long before that. You’re obviously tired, you need rest. Just tell me what you can.”

I try to think. Remember. Relive. But there is only this that I can tell her: “My name is Adele, and I have no idea who you are, or where I am. I don’t even know the date, the time. Miss, I don’t even know how I feel. Please, can you help me?” I plead with her through my eyes, hoping that this is all some kind of sick joke. I know it isn’t, but there is some hope in thinking it.

“I’ll tell you now that I will try to help you, child. Adele. I will do my best, but for now I think it best that you have some rest. Maybe things will come back to you if you just rest a little.”

I dare not tell her that resting is the thing farthest from my mind at this moment, because she has been so kind. Instead I simply smile as best I can and nod my head - this time I manage it. Mostly.

“At least,” I say before she leaves, “can you tell me your name? I should very much like to know it. And where I am.”

“Nurse Stoic,” she replies indulgently. “Nurse Mary Stoic. And this is Rosehead Manor, currently home to Orchard House College for Girls. I don’t know how much that helps, but I hope it at least gives you some comfort.”

“Thank you,” I tell her earnestly. “It does.”

Rosehead Manor. I feel as though I should know the name. It is familiar, sitting on my tongue in a way that only my own name does right now. Yet, where there should perhaps be memories, or emotions, there is only the darkness. I hate darkness. Maybe Nurse Stoic is right. Maybe if I rest things will come back to me.

If they don’t, I do not know what I will do.  

[DesertRoseFallen]

Eee good on you for getting everything sorted before you go!

As for the except, much mystery surrounds it! The whole memory loss but places already ringing bells gives it hope for the rest of the story. I would like to read more haha.

 

[Psychotic Maniacal Sanity]

I'm glad you'd like to read more! I'm always willing to offer my work up to readers, but lately I don't trust these online sites for anything that means anything if you know what I mean.... XP  

[DesertRoseFallen]

Haha yeah. Lots of people want to me to write new fictions for them to read but I'd rather work on my novel then waste the effort doing another story so quick. I'm thinking of just doing once or twice a year for a story on FictionPress so I keep them happy. I don't put my best works on there xD They are rushed and unedited eekk!

 

[Psychotic Maniacal Sanity]

As long as they enjoy reading them, and it's a bit of fun, it's good to continue, even if it is just a couple of times a year. I don't post much up at all any more. And even when I do I don't get any feedback anyway so I just wonder why I should bother, really. =P

As for this novel, I'm hoping that it will be good enough to do something with, y'know? So, that's why I've limited what I'm posting. Otherwise I like it enough that it would probably all be posted online somewhere for feedback. xd  

[DesertRoseFallen]

Yep, I know what you mean. I would love to get my Carnality somewhere so I'm not posting it online ahah.
I enrolled in Sixth Form today...I was so sad to be back.

 

[Psychotic Maniacal Sanity]

Awwww, haha. Only a year more!

I have to enroll at my university on the 21st. That's less than three weeks. I'm terrified, and also really excited. It's such a big thing!  

[DesertRoseFallen]

Eee that's going to be very exciting! You will have to tell me what it is like!