Below is my Secrets Blogfest entry. It's from my current sci-fi WIP. The secret in question is that the two main characters don't speak the same language and are trying to communicate without words (for the most part). It's not a secret in the standard sense, but I think it still works. Setup: Jaska inadvertently finds himself on Earth where he runs into Amie who decides to help him. They're in New York heading for a subway but Jaska wants to explore this strange new world. Amie is the redhead to whom Jaska refers.
The door of this particular shop opens and someone walks out with a steaming cup of something and a round bread-like food wrapped in a papery cloth. The aromas flow from the open door and make my stomach growl. I grab the door from the person before it shuts, and I’m ready to go inside when I feel a hand on my arm. When I turn, I find the redhead with an exasperated look on her face. She’s babbling in her language and I can hear the translator buzzing and clicking in my ear, trying to keep up with her. It still doesn’t have enough information to translate, though. I just shrug and turn my back on her and walk inside. She makes a disgusted grunt at me, but follows me inside. I smile. On this planet less than a day and already I’ve got women following me wherever I go.
Inside, this shop apparently sells food and books. The ceiling is low and intimate and the décor is woods and sleek black. The walls are covered in bookshelves. The tables are packed and there’s a line at the counter where I can see a glass case full of foods. I head in that direction, cutting through the line of people so I can inspect the offerings. The redhead is close behind. “Hey!” she says and pulls me around by the shoulder so I’m facing her. Hmm. She must have said that to me enough that the translator figured out what she meant. I point at the glass case of food, then to my stomach. She raises an eyebrow at me and crosses her arms across her chest. It pushes her breasts up so they’re bulging at the vee in her blouse. Nice.
So I’m reduced to ridiculous sign language to communicate. I take a deep, appreciative breath, sniffing the good smelling food. I paste a silly grin on my face, then rub my belly and lick my lips. Think she’ll understand that? Apparently she does because she sighs and rolls her eyes, then goes to the counter, cutting in line, and says something to the guy working there. He looks angry at her, she sounds angry back, but he gets a big bag and I watch with my nose on the glass as he takes one of everything and puts it in the bag. She throws some green paper on the counter, grabs the bag out of the guy’s hand and shoves it into mine, then grips my other hand in hers and pulls me through the line and out the door. I chuckle at her when we’re back outside, but the look on her face is a mood killer. I make like I’m going to inspect the contents of the bag, but she pulls me along. I guess I’ll have to wait.
Jaska shares my obsessive love of pastry. Below is my Literary Crush blogfest entry. It's unconventional. I happen to adore Stephen King's Dark Tower series and my love letter is to Roland Deschain, the Gunslinger himself. (Frankie originally created this blogfest for YA characters, and I crush on some of them too but it felt a little too, um, cradle-robber creepy for a grown woman to be writing love letters to adolescent boy characters). I've got enough adult literary crushes to keep me busy writing love letters for a while.
My heart aches for you and I wish I could convince you that there's more to life than that blasted Tower.
All my love,