My blog was originally supposed to be about the writing – sort of writing about writing. I have instead, been all meanderingly me and gone off on a tangent… So, I’ll share some of the good stuff with you for a change. Refocus and crack on, if you see what I mean.
Here is a little excerpt from a draft from one of the earlier chapters in the Novel I Shall Never Publish:
She looked out through the snow spattered plastic pane, instead of through the open gaps either side of it. Some part of her brain wanted to believe that, despite the desperate situation she was now getting into, deeper and deeper by the moment, that she was somehow protected. That she was somehow able to put a barrier between herself and the deft dumping of snow.
A chill wind whipped up and funnelled icy air and lacerating snow shards into her tiny shelter, making her teeth chatter and her numb fingers cling tighter to the thin jacket she wore.
She closed her tearing eyes, swearing oaths beyond language that would never leave the flat again without being one-hundred per cent certain that not a flake of snow was to fall that day.
The tears slipped down her marble-white face now, meeting no more resistance. She would never be able to walk ten to twelve miles home or whatever it was, not in this. Staying put in the bus shelter was her best option and to just hope to God that she would be found by the Police or just someone who could help her.
She sniffled, trying to think of a better way to do things, trying to wrestle some logic into her skull, some reasoning. There was none. She wasn’t Bear Grylls. She wasn’t a survivalist.
She reluctantly let go of the lapels of her black jacket and pulled out her mobile phone, which now had no signal at all. Two-fifteen AM.
Despair rose again in one unchecked wave and her face creased in misery.
She couldn’t feel her limbs anymore, let alone give in and walk home all those long miles.
She took in a slow, steadying breathe of iced air and blew it out slowly. The arctic air simply punched in and out of her aching lungs, sending her into a coughing fit and fumbling with numb hands into her handbag, grasping awkwardly for her inhaler.
She found it and pulled in to her chapping lips drew in several sprays of the Ventolin. She could feel the air ease in and out without restraint, the tight rubber of asthma relinquishing its grip on her, for now.
She knew if she didn’t find warmth and shelter soon, it wasn’t going to be just hypothermia she was going to be struggling with.
She rubbed her sore eyes with the back of her hand, wiping away the surge of water that had fallen from her eyes, when a voice suddenly said “hello?”