Noveling
Friday, November 9, 2007 at 04:23PM 
Not sure if that's a verb, but it should be. I've been digging into my new, yet unnamed, novel. Here's a chunk for your weekend reading. This is probably right near the beginning, so I'll call it:
ONE
Rows of men in dark suits sat uncomfortably at long tables. Some faced microphones, others with crossed arms leaned forward, wires from ear pieces ran down their necks and plugged into the black boxes perched on the tables.
"Why is the news on now?"
"Shh."
I'd lost track of the time sitting in the backyard reading the latest Green Arrow/Green Lantern issue that I'd bought at the Horizon. But when the sun dropped behind our house and the wind got colder all of a sudden, I figured it must be about time for Star Trek. Channel 2 had been running the whole series that I was too young to watch when it was first on T.V. I knew it was on everyday at four. The clock in the kitchen read about ten after.
"Is that the Prime Minister?"
"It's the States." My father said in a short way that meant shut up I'm listening.
The men were being asked questions by someone offscreen. I didn't really follow what they were talking about – but I could tell something wrong had happened.
"Did they kill someone?"
My father snorted. I couldn't tell if he found the question funny or was exasperated by my interruptions.
As the camera moved to each man, their names and what they did for a job appeared underneath, names I didn't recognize or couldn't remember my father talking about. Whenever his cronies, that's what called them, came over to play poker they would get talking about politics, the government and the assholes that were running the country, that's what he called them. Under the men's names were things like "undersecretary" or "special counsel" – they sounded like government. I wondered why the government in the U.S. was being shown on our TV.
"Why is this on now?"
My mom popped out of the kitchen, a cigarette dangled from her lips.
"Joseph, don't bother your father."
I listened some more. Everyone was choosing their words very carefully, pausing and coughing once in a while. It felt a bit like when Mr. Eiger explained a complicated math problem to the class. There was something else, something in the way they hesitated, the things they did with their hands, placing them on the table, crossing their arms, then undoing them and bringing them under the table.
"That guy's lying isn't he?"
My father looked over at me.
"How do you know that? You don't even know what this is about."
I shrugged. "Just a guess."
My father went back to the TV, leaning in even closer.
"I'll tell you this somebody is in a pile of shit."
"Roger!" my mother, back in the kitchen, yelled out to us.
"The boy's not in kindergarten any more."
Reader Comments (4)
Two things:
Love this. If you keep posting what you write, I'll keep reading. Are you allowed to post the whole thing, or will be get select pieces?
Second, at 50,000 words, do you plan to expand the first draft if you like the result (50,000 being short for a novel), or cut it back down, novelettes being hard to sell (or perhaps hold on to it and slip it into a short story collection?)
Whatever you do, this is going to be impressive.
Hey Mark - thanks for reading! After 50K I plan to keep going, probably shooting for the 70-80K range.
Nanowrimo says 50k because they think it is doable; you're right it is short and would be hard to sell.
Sounds great Craig, a great start!
Hey wow - nice to see you around here Alicia. I missed your comment before.
Thanks for the encouragement.