For some reason, I always seem to get the BIG SCENE wrong the first time around. You know, that scene for which a character has been yearning for pages and pages, and it should be a candybar. It should be golden, warm and syrup sweet to write, and yet…
Yet it’s not.
I think I put too much expectation on myself. This scene should be so big, so climatic, so fulfulling and wonderful…Naturally, it’s impossible to get it right the first time. However, I wish I didn’t usually get that first draft so absolutely wrong.
Sigh. I went back to work on the scene where Dharman and Sal finally achieve their heart’s desire. I actually cut over 1200 words before starting. I am not including those words in my NaNo count, even though they’re technically “new” words. They’re not the right words, and I’m going to hit 50K. It’s more important that this story be right. Dharman and Sal deserved better (or worse, if you want to look at it from a Story standpoint) than what I’d given them.
So straight new words (not counting revision): 1,456. (Day’s total: 4396!! *boggles*)
NaNo Total: 47,945
And you know it, this obsessive compulsive writing maniac is tempted to stay up and force it through to 50K tonight. I could do it — Sal’s scene isn’t done yet, and then there’s all the aftermath to sort out. However, I wouldn’t do it full justice. Tomorrow is soon enough.
Snippet: This takes place after the scene I posted a few days ago when Shannari was Dreaming as the White Dragon and she nearly killed Dharman, then he met a stranger whose insight into her shocked him to his knees. An argument ensued, made worse by her guilt and worry that she’d almost killed him. Series spoilers removed.
Bitterly, she said, “So you think you’re all interchangeable? That what I feel for you and Sal could just as easily transfer to Jorah? Or Lew? How about some stranger as long as he swears a blood oath to me?”
“How do you feel for me?” His voice tightened, his hands closed fists at his sides. “If you care so very much, why deny us? Why refuse us?”
“You know how I feel.”
“Do I?” His face darkened. “Then I should stand guard and leave you to your sleep.”
“Come here,” she retorted. He hesitated. He actually hesitated. The blizzard snows began to blow within her. “Your blood is mine and I want you here, in my bed, this very minute.”
If a warrior could slam himself into a fluffy soft mattress, Dharman did. He lay on his back and glared up at the ceiling, his bond as hard as steel in her mind.
He’d closed himself off, she realized with a start. She could feel his bond, but his thoughts and emotions weren’t leaking through. He’d managed to seal the link between them, locking her out.
As I’ve done so many times since he became my Blood.
Tears burned but she refused to soften. She touched his bond, seeking the red thread in her mind. Breathing hard, he stiffened beside her but the bond hardened, forged with his determination. He was First Blood, but he wanted to be more, so much more.
He expected her to rage and tear at his bond until he broke down and let her in. That’s what he wanted, in fact. He hoped to prove how much she would miss him if his bond was gone, and he thought he could force her hand. In some ways, he didn’t know her at all.
Irritated more than she cared to admit, she simply arched a brow at him. “If you’re tired of serving as Blood, I’ll let you go.”
Her brief satisfaction at the well-aimed barb dissolved beneath the raging panic that filled his eyes. “Nay,” he breathed, his voice broken. “You wouldn’t.”
“Aye, I would,” she retorted, wielding her voice like a rahke. “You already think I would cut you out of my life because of a simple disagreement, so why would I stop short of breaking your bond entirely? If you want to be free…”
“Never,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. His control came crashing down faster than she’d breached the Shining Walls with his blood and his pleasure years ago, his bond roaring wide open in her mind. “Never free me, na’lanna Qwen, I beg you. Never release my bond. I’d rather you cut open my chest and hack out my heart this very minute than ever force me to leave you.”
Lightly, she touched his mark over his heart. His entire body jolted as though she’d plunged a rahke between his ribs. In many ways, she had.
“You were right,” she whispered, casting her breath across his bare chest. “I shouldn’t taste his blood. Even if he’s not the Black Dragon of my Dreams, he’s certainly Shadowed. I don’t want another blood bond.” Gently, she brushed her mouth over her mark in his chest, looking up at his face. “I only want you.”
His eyes flew open. He held his breath, staring into her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered against his chest, pausing to swipe her tongue fully over the old white scar. “I was afraid and ashamed that I’d hurt you, which always makes me angry. I wasn’t truly angry at you, certainly never enough to send you away.”
“The thought of losing you turns me inside out,” he whispered, trembling beneath her faint caress. “If you want this man who smells of sandalwood and dragon, I’ll find him. We Nine will pin him flat on his back at rahke-point so you may have your way with him.”
“Tonight, the only warrior I’m going to have my way with,” she slid her leg over his hips so she straddled his abdomen, “is you.”