Usually, you think they're exaggerating. "How could fictional, imaginary characters that that person created take the story in a different direction?" you wonder. It seems like a weird attempt to make writing seem more mystical.
Sometimes it is. Sometimes, however, a writer's subconscious takes over, and this manifests itself as the characters doing something completely unexpected and taking the story in a whole different direction.
On that note, here's the excerpt I promised you guys like a month ago.
***
“Well, no time like the present,” Frost said with forced cheerfulness. “Let’s get going, Riley.”
Riley nodded and followed them away from the cabin, still keeping his head down. Frost led him down a different flight of stairs, over to a sizable supply closet.
“First stop, tools,” they said, grabbing a banged-up toolbox and handing to Riley. “Are you okay?”
The question had none of the false lightness Frost had just spoken with. It was quieter and worried.
“I’m fine,” Riley said, clutching the toolbox close to his chest. “We’d better get going, right?”
“Yeah,” Frost said, still sounding worried. They turned and started down a narrow, twisting corridor that appeared to lead into the depths of the Firefox.
“But I want to make sure you’re okay,” Frost said, pausing outside a heavy-looking door. “You sounded scared back there.”
“No. I’m not scared,” Riley said, with perhaps more force than necessary. “I, I mean, I—I’m fine, really.”
“You know I’m not going to hurt you.”
Riley’s head snapped up and he met Frost’s eyes.
“I know that,” he said. “That’s not what—I mean, you’re not—I know,” he finished lamely. He ducked his head again.
Frost unlocked the door, pulled it open, and gestured for Riley to go in. They followed him and shut the door behind them.
The door led to a narrow pathway that wound in between several engine components. Some of them were familiar to Riley; others were strange.
“This is Firefox’s combination engine and boiler room,” Frost said. “They share a power source, so a lot of the elements are hybridized where they wouldn’t be on a bigger ship.”
“Wow,” Riley said. “That’s… different.”
“She sure is.” Frost stared down along the path. “We’re just doing a check-up, today. Making sure everything’s in working order.”
Their first stop was by the engine’s main reactor. It didn’t look like any other core reactor Riley had seen.
He was cautious to ask any questions—You’re here to work, not pester the pilot—but Frost seemed to anticipate his curiosity.
“Tesla ships have different core reactors,” they said, without being prompted. “Firefox here runs off a battery. She plugs in to charge at port, and then she can run for a few weeks.”
“Wow,” Riley said. “So—you don’t use combustion at all?”
“Nope,” Frost said. “Wouldn’t be safe, with the boiler system in such close contact. See, it’s just over there.” They pointed. Several feet away, a series of pipes and boxes indicated the heart of the ship’s life-support system.
Frost moved over to a control panel along the side of the core.
“Fillips head screwdriver, please,” they said, holding out their hand and looking over the panel. Riley started and almost dropped the toolbox; it took him an embarrassingly long time to find the screwdriver in question.
He handed it to Frost and the pilot went to work getting the panel open. After a moment, they turned to look at Riley, never pausing with the screwdriver.
“I’m not gonna lie,” they said. “I’m a little worried about you.”
Riley frowned. “Why?”
Frost hesitated. “Let’s say I’ve seen a lot,” they said. “And—the way you react to things—it worries me. A bit.”
“You barely know me.”
“Yeah, but I know how to tell when someone is scared,” Frost said. “And I know that you’re a kid. You can’t be older than fifteen.”
Riley shuffled his feet.
“Well?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m—I’m fourteen.”
“And you’ve spent God knows how much time on Ceres. And you’re travelling with a pirate crew but you’re clearly not one of them. And your first instinct when you get in trouble is to minimize the damage by submitting. And you don’t seem to have anyone looking out for you other than you.”
Riley looked up. “Why do you care?”
“I’ve been there, kid,” Frost said softly. “It wasn’t fun. If I can help you, I will.”
Riley couldn’t think of what to say; his throat felt swollen and hot all of a sudden.
“It’s not so bad,” he said. “I’m okay, really. I know how to take care of myself.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Frost said. “But…” They trailed off.
“What?”
“Do you want a job?”
***
I just...
Frost
What are you doing
You were supposed to be a minor character who got the main characters from point B to point C
You were not supposed to get attached to the main character
And you were not supposed to offer him a job
Frost what are you doing
Yeah. I guess that this is my fault, technically, since I'm the one writing this. And truth be told, I stopped trying to plot this novel out like a week ago. Writing over 1,500 words per day will do that to you. You stop caring so much about what you're writing, as long as you're writing something and getting words on the page.
Only now I'm not so sure what the actual plot is supposed to be here. I mean, I've got a vague idea, but things keep happening, so there's a hundred different ways this story could go and I don't know what I'm doing.
So that's my current situation. NaNoWriMo ends in three days. I have over 43,500 words on my draft right now. Hopefully I'll have at least 50,000 words by November 30th. And hopefully I won't do anything too crazy and wreck my first draft entirely.
Adiós!
*Author's Note: In the above excerpt, the character Frost's gender is unconfirmed. Therefore I'm referring to them as 'they' rather than 'he' or 'she'. I apologize in advance for any confusion this may have caused.
*Author's Note: In the above excerpt, the character Frost's gender is unconfirmed. Therefore I'm referring to them as 'they' rather than 'he' or 'she'. I apologize in advance for any confusion this may have caused.
