11,744 Words...Plugging Away

Last night I wrote about 1500 words, including some great Gordon material, a classic EsNoWriMo moment where my main character realized that she had been lost in her thoughts for some time and had lost track of a conversation she was in the midst of (what would a novel be without multiple such moments?) Since our characters have very rich internal dialogues, this is a sure occurrence, I know both Indigo and Katie's characters have both already been caught out.
In my book, Alice's dreams are intensifying... this is a sure sign for her that she needs to move on, as she has been doing her whole life. Here is part of a description of her latest dream (which she is thinking about while she is in the middle of a conversation with Gordon the Vampyre, her editor).

In the dream she was driving her blue Ford Mustang Boss 302. When Alice first heard the song “Fast Car”, she, like most people with functioning sensory organs had immediately fallen in love with Tracy Chapman’s bittersweet account of love, hope and loss, but she seemed to have gotten the message backwards. Alice had determined upon hearing the song that she would always own a fast car, and that she would always keep on driving. The song to her was about the freedom that a fast car represented. Since that time she had promised herself she would be the one to do the driving. She didn’t want to rely on a man for the feeling that she could be someone.
Though she could have driven fast in that car, she was driving slowly, upon residential streets, if the streets she was driving could truly be described as residential. The houses were very few and very far between, and there was no traffic on the street. Sometimes when she passed a house she could see faces in the upstairs windows, indistinct, but pale and ghostly in the fading light. Her heart began to beat faster, as a certainty set in that she was in grave danger. The faces, instead of bringing a comfort of human presence in an isolated place, filled her with dread. They were not friendly faces, no, not friendly by a country mile.
Somehow, though she had no idea where she was, the car seemed to operate on its own, the steering wheel moving beneath her hands, left, right, straight on. It should be said that in no way was this experience similar to that of Michael Knight and his car, KITT, in the hit television series, Knight Rider, which had a successful run in the 1980s. Michael Knight, expertly played by the inimitable David Hasselhoff, drove a trans am outfitted with an artificial intelligence unit. Together, they were a successful crime fighting unit. Alice’s car wasn’t really operating on its own, and it certainly wasn’t speaking to her, okay? Alice’s hair was also not coiffed in a bizarre combination of a white man afro and a mullet. It was a creepy experience, but not that creepy.


It should be noted, fellow novelers and supporters, that I in selecting this image of Knight Rider, I did not use the word 'drunk' in my google image search. I think this was a wise decision.