Apologies to Gemma Arterton, Ingrid Michaelson, Ed Westwick and Shunsuke Daito. Also David Bowie.

And there we go.

Anyway, to share a sample, here’s my rough-and-definitely-unedited prologue.

Liverpool, England. 1927.

I died in a pool of blood on my bedroom floor. My throat had been torn open and the boy I thought I loved – that I thought loved me – was responsible for it.

My mind should have been nothing but thoughts of betrayal, of mental cries of anger, but while those things were there it was another thought that held sway over my dying mind. As my killer swallowed down the life that bled out with each slowing heartbeat, my thoughts were of my mother.

More specifically, how angry she would be when she saw the mess.

As is understandable, I was not the most coherent person at that time.

I had fought him the entire time, and the signs of the battle were everywhere. Books had been knocked off shelves and the collection of figurines my grandmother had given me – eighteen in all, one for each birthday – lay cracked and broken where they had fallen.

Around me lay the shards of the full-length mirror that had shattered when he had thrown me into it, all its pieces like the countless flakes of a twisted snow angel created by my death throes.

Even as more of my life seeped out of me, pushed out by each slowing heartbeat, I struggled. Pathetically, it was true, but it was enough for Thomas to lift his head from my throat and laugh. I tried to answer him but he was sitting on my chest, making it even harder to form my dying breaths.

More hot tears leaked from my eyes as he lowered his mouth back down to my neck and continued to feed. Both my hands scrambled about, trying to find something, anything, to get him off me, to let me die without anymore of his violations – or even better, save my life. Finally my right found purchase, fingers and palm bleeding as they curled around the sharp edges of a large shard of glass.

I made one desperate slashing movement above me and Thomas howled in pain; I slashed again, harder, emboldened by the sounds he made. He lifted his head so I could see my handiwork: one thick gash on his neck, and another along the cheek I had often touched, along the high cheekbone I had often thought was a mark of his perfection.

“You… you little…” Thomas began but did not finish. Above me, his eyes focused on the blood that was dripping from his face and onto mine. The blood that fell into my mouth and that I, with disgust and effort, automatically swallowed.

“Bastard,” I spat out, my first word in some time. “I hate you.”

“And I love you!” he replied excitedly. The words that had once thrilled me now terrified me. How could he say that to someone he was killing and enjoying killing so much? “You have given me the most fantastic idea!”

What idea could he have had? I suddenly felt even colder than I already was.

Unfortunately, the terrifying idea that came to my dying mind was nothing compared to the horrors that would await me with his actual idea.

He raised his left wrist to his mouth and bit into it, just like he had done to my neck earlier. Then he forced the bleeding limb against my mouth, holding my nose to force me to swallow.

As his blood – it tasted so strange, not like any blood I had accidentally swallowed while alive, or drunk since my death – trickled down my throat he explained his plan. “I love the way you fought me, not like all the rest. It was such a shame that your defiance was not going to last. But then you, in all your cleverness, had to show me how to continue our wonderful little game. I knew you would be special and you proved me right.” He smiled down at me although his eyes did not focus, clearly too lost was he in his little fantasy world. “Do you understand, my sweet Viola? We’re going to play this game forever. You are going to be just like me. Forever.”

My scream of horror was muffled by his wrist and the blood that had already started to transform me.

Anyway, here’s a brief list of all the software things I will be using this coming month, for various reasons.

• Scrivener: Since it’s now available for Linux this’ll be my first year using Scrivener for NaNo. I like it though.
• Write or Die: Because sometimes you just need a major push to get those words out.
• NovProg2: As this is a word counter that stays on my comp, it means I don’t have to run to the NaNo site every time to check how I have been doing, and risk getting distracted by the rest of the internet.
• Songbird: Because I need music, goshdarnit! This is also why I will have my iPod ready to go at all times.
• Pidgin: For the few times I will venture online to chat with writer friends and keep in touch with the #nznano IRC channel.
• The GIMP: For getting distracted making pretty things like book covers and playlist covers.

And, of course, there is always the classic pen and paper – I especially like stuff from Smiggle. I have a long calendar on my wall that I think I shall put a sticker on for each day I meet the target. Because everyone likes stickers.

I mean, I am excited but… also kinda terrified. It’s a great feeling.

Anyway, now that NaNo Buddies are up, feel free to add me. And here’s the mini-blurb (nothing major, just quick so that something is up there) for the novel I will be writing. I am calling it Bleed Like Me.

Seven times Viola Kane has played a deadly game with Thomas, the vampire who made her. Seven times she has lost, failing to save the lives of seven innocent girls who were just like her when she was alive.

After the last time Viola swore she would never play his game again, that she would never get close to anyone again. But she breaks both promises when she follows Thomas to sunny California to play his game once more and finds herself distracted by Romy, a girl determined to bring down the walls Viola has erected around her heart.

Will letting Romy in help Viola finally defeat the vampire that has controlled her ever since he killed her? Or will it be the biggest mistake in all of Viola’s very long life?

• Outlining using bits of paper stuck with blu-tac to a board my father normally uses for doing jigsaw puzzles on (fortunately he has spares).
• Fleshing out scenes in a new way in a notebook (which I really like doing, I have discovered).
• Trying to make a playlist (currently at five songs).
• Even making a terribly “trendy” cover to put on the NaNo page, even though I don’t even have a very good working title.

All of those things make sense, right?

So can someone help me understand why I have been pondering sexual dimorphism for the vampires in this future WIP?

Reading these totally counts as research¹ you guys. It totally does.

1. As does looking at pictures of Dita von Teese.

Anyway, I realised that I have yet to post any NaNo snippets, so here we go! The rough, unedited opening paragraphs of Winterheart – I have warned you. Also known as the scene that made me go “so apparently my novel is about evil snow”.

It was going to be a very white Christmas that year.

The snow that fell from the clouds hanging ominously above London was not heavy but it was continuous. Indeed, there was not a time when someone glanced out the window and did not see at the very least more than a few flakes of snow fluttering down towards the thick layer of cold white that covered the streets and the roofs of the houses and cars that lined them.

If it was possible, people stayed inside, wrapped up warm and gathered around the heaters and fireplaces that were available to them. Those who were unfortunate enough to still have work and errands to run – as life does not stop simply because of snow, especially when it was only a few days until Christmas, and thus there was still much to be done – bundled up as much as they could before braving the cold weather outside the safety of their homes.

But it was as if something was looming in the air that warned people to stay inside if they absolutely had to. Not just because it was cold and perhaps not the safest time to drive, but that there was something out there that just simply was not right. Something worrisome, something dangerous, something that could only be avoided if one stayed inside and did not look at the countless white flakes that danced in the air, riding the small breezes as if only they were allowed to enjoy the cold season.

As if it was only safe for them. Or perhaps unsafe because of them.

I’m aware that I am behind on NaNo, but I am not bothered by this at all. Last year I only reached 25 000 words in the entire month, so being nearly there in just over half that time makes me feel really really good about myself. I wrote about 2000 words yesterday, which helped catch up a little.

In other news, I got a $10 discount voucher from MightyApe to use for my birthday. I promptly pre-ordered The Vampire Diaries on DVD. I got up to about episode seven, then missed about four and it just became a hassle trying to catch up. With about two months until release at the time, I just decided to wait for the box set and watch it all then. Woo.

So far I am doing pretty well. I’ve only been behind one day so far – Thursday – and I caught up on all that extra on Saturday. This is really really good, as last year I started off ahead, then went to camp for a couple of days and it all just fell apart. This time around and am really quite steady, am not fussing about with “argh I am stuck on this scene” and simply skipping ahead instead. Which seems to be working.

Winterheart is feeling different from other works, but good different (or so the betas say). Well, we’ll see.

Current word count: 11 741 words.