I just achieved 201 pages on my new novel, Progeny of Kongomato (working title). That specific number is always important to me because it means that I’ve left the area of novella and entered into book territory. Not that I ever intended it to be a novel but until that point I always fear that I may run out of ideas or things to do.
It happened to me a couple of months ago in another novel I began. Without disclosing the plot, which I think is original, I realised that I would have to follow my anti-hero through several lifetimes of adventures for the book to work, but I can’t do that again as I just did it in Book of Pain, my last novel. Thus it’s gone into my “Other Stuff” folder for the day when I write my four related novella series – whenever that will be.
Here’s a little snippet from Kongomato 3 where my hero’s love interest is introduced for the first time in this book.
‘John. Where the hell have you been?’ A flurry of kisses enveloped him, much to the amusement and confusion of several other staff and one clearly envious man being pushed past on a trolley; the absence of a leg clearly forgotten as he stared in awe at the man lucky enough to be on the receiving end of such attention from this beautiful woman.
‘You know where I’ve been,’ he panted as those full lips attempted to kiss every portion of his face simultaneously.
‘I know where your body has been,’ she pouted in mock severity, ‘but where has your head been. I thought you were going to lie like a zombie forever. Now, are you well, or at least better?’ Those gorgeous blue eyes scanned his face again for any indication that he might be slipping back into coma, or even that he was not entirely recovered.
‘I’m fine, I promise.’ Finally, unwillingly, he shook her free. He didn’t want her to stop pawing him but there were things he had to find out. The first was…
‘Then for God’s sake get me the hell out of here!’
His surprise must have been apparent for with a smile towards an elderly man accompanied by two armed and frowning soldiers she guided him towards the enticing smell of coffee and altered the timbre of her voice to an impersonal and business-like tone of curt efficiency. After pointing him in the direction of a table in a large and well populated but strangely muted cafeteria she returned quickly with two steaming cups.
‘What the hell is going on?’ She demanded in a quiet but imperative tone. All he could see over the top of her mug were those haunting eyes staring at only one person.
‘Do you want to narrow the parameters of the question a little.’ He used a gently mocking voice but in truth he had no idea what to say other than the obvious. London had been invaded by supposedly mythical flying lizards capable of changing sex at will and killing their prey simply by looking at them. Hundreds, no thousands of people had already died and many others had fled the city and now the surrounding countries were on the verge of…