Elin Gregory

I’m so excited *chair dances* and I just can’t hide it!

This month I have written more than in the past 2 years put together. Now I just need to consistently do a bit each day.

Anyhow – excerpt – this is the bit where I hit 50k:

Mal looked at Gary’s collarbones, which were level with his eyes, and tried to get his head round the idea that this immense, intimidating, inarticulate and very straight man was trying to facilitate his gay best friend’s love life. It was one of the sweetest things he’d ever seen.

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I’m feeling quietly chuffed. 48534 words for Nanowrimo!

I never thought I’d manage that. The story is almost finished too in the sense that I’ve got it’s skeleton laid out, I just need to add some muscle and connective tissue and some glandular oomph – all the usual stuff including the bits where I’ve typed [add sex scene here].

Anyhow, here’s an excerpt. Everyone else has had the flu, now it’s Mal’s turn:

Twenty minutes later he was regretting ever moaning about wanting his Mum. Betty was no substitute for the soft handed angel of his daydreams. Brusquely she reorganised his room, opening the window to let an excruciating blast of cold air waft through the place because, she said, “smells like something died in here”, plumping pillows with sharp angry punches and banging a bottle of Lucozade down on his beside table with enough force to make it impossible to open unless he wanted his ceiling to be dripping.
“Um, Betty, it’s not that I don’t appreciate you coming but you don’t seem to be very happy.”
“Of course I’m not happy.” Betty put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “First off you went to Sharon to whine about being ill. Just because she’s all cuddly and mumsy and shit doesn’t mean that I’m not perfectly capable of giving you comfort, capische? Secondly, I’ve had to rush over here in my lunch hour in the rain because Elspeth is giving us both a hard time and Sharon doesn’t really want to be left on her own in the museum with her. Fuck sake, she’s a grown up, she could just tell Elspeth to piss off like I do but no she’s scared of losing her job and doesn’t seem to think that you’ve got our backs even when lolling there on your bed of pain, which I think you have really in your own wussy way, and – and – where was I? Yeah thirdly what have you done to Rob you wanker?”
“What do you mean, what have I done to Rob?” Mal had been expecting Rob to be mentioned but had assumed something a bit more specific. “I haven’t done anything to Rob. I haven’t seen him?”
“You haven’t?” Betty’s eyebrows rose. “Uhuh, so why did he tell me you and he were going out Monday night, and why has he had a face like a bulldog chewing a wasp ever since while you’ve been wandering around in a daze snapping left right and centre. And now, boo hoo, you’ve taken to your bed.”
“I’m fucking ill.” Mal hadn’t meant for his voice to rise but it did and his voice caught and he dissolved in a bout of painful coughing. Betty reached for the still too lively Lucozade, swore and fetched him a glass of water instead.
“There you go, though I don’t know why I bother. You were the best thing that’s happened to Rob, you know. Jeez, he’s had some rough years but … well, I guess it might be for the best.”
“Shall we agree not to interfere in each other’s love lives?” Mal suggested once he could speak again. “Otherwise I could make some comments about how friendly you seem to be getting with Gary.”
“Hey, lay off Gary,” Betty raised a warning finger. “Gary might not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, though I reckon he might surprise us all yet, but he is good at one particular thing and that’s making me happy. Who do you make happy, Mal? Give that some thought, all right. Shit is that the time?”

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I haven’t much else to talk about at the moment. I’ll be back in work on Monday, pretending I want to be there, so for now I’m making the most of my writing time.

I’ve just broken the 35k mark

*bounces carefully in chair*

and here’s an excerpt. Our hero has been to the barber shop and gets more than just a haircut:
(more…)

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25294 words!! Whoohoo, over 25k! That’s more in the past 2 weeks than I’ve written in the whole of 2015 so far.

I’m about halfway through the story too and have written the first Big Misunderstanding™, a trope I really don’t much like but in this case it’s more of an ethical disagreement than done to make the relationship more iffy.

Anyhow, here’s a sample, all unshod, uncurried and straight off the moor:

It was trowel work, quick and satisfying and he was soon able to see the slabs in their entirety. They were a lot wider than he had thought they would be and he realised he’d be unlikely to be able to move them alone. Luckily Sion and Rob were still close to hand and each man fitted a hand into the overlap of the lid with the supporting stone and stood ready to lift on Mal’s work. He held up a length of two by one.

“Just lift the first one a couple of inches,” he asked, “so I can slip this in to support the lid. I want to get a couple of pictures. If we can document the whole process it could be good publicity for the site.” And for the museum, went without saying.

“Ready, Rob?” Sion grinned at Mal. “On three then – one, two, three.”

The stone lifted smoothly just a little soil tumbling into the void below, and Mal slotted the piece of wood in about a foot. “Lovely,” he said and took a penlight from his pocket. “Want the first look boys?”

“Hell yeah,” Rob said and Sion grinned at him and shouldered into the space between him and Mal.

Mal turned on the little torch and directed the beam into the gap. He smiled to hear two indrawn breaths. It was such a thrill to be the first to see something that had been hidden in the ground for centuries. he remembered his first time well. The dry earth under his knees, sun on his back, the grit on his tongue as a breeze laden with the scent of thyme and seaweed blew dust across the rocky Aegean peninsula. Then he had moved some more dust and and been looking into the face of a man long dead, just bones but broad browed and strong jawed. Moved, Mal had murmured, “Hello brother.”

It was a long moment before Rob or Sion stirred.

“Oh wow,” Rob whispered, his voice a little shaky. “Hello you. Pleased to meetcha.”

“Mal.” Sion looked across at him, eyes wide. “You got to see this.”

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