One, because I have completed the first draft of THE SILENT ROAD at 41,853 words.
Two, because I wrote the whole thing, outline included, in 122 hours within 60 days.
That is improvement for me.
If you've been keeping up with my updates on THE SILENT ROAD you'd be scratching your head saying... but Stephanie you started in October... four months ago. Last time I checked 60 days is only 2 months.
Yes, you'd be right. But my tracked time on the days I worked on this MS is 60 days.
I wrote an average of 358 words an hour with an average word count of 698 words daily. My daily goal was 1K words, so there's room for improvement. But this was an enormous break-through for me.
Normally, I'd write for 8 hours and get 2K words for that day. Not a bad rate, but I'm looking to speed up. At this new rate of speed in 8 hours, I'd write 2,864 words on average every day.
This new speed is due to having two-thirds of an outline.
I say two-thirds because I only outlined the beginning and the end and left many details to fend for themselves in the middle.
Just think what I could do with an entire outline!
The devil is in the details and I can get into the weeds a bit with middles. But enough of this blarg. You're saying, where's my effing excerpt, byotch.
Yeah, yeah. I'm getting to it!
Once I get over my excitement.
Okay... my excitement's over. Scroll down for one of my favorite scenes in the whole book!
♥ ~ Stephy
Please note: This is a Contemporary M/M Romance
Which means a romantic relationship between two men occur.
Here's the premise:
Heterosexual truck driving trainee must complete his training in time to send his daughter to college and finds love with his homosexual truck driving instructor.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted, with the exception of a reviewer who may quote passages in a review, without written prior permission from the publisher.
*PLEASE NOTE, THIS IS A ROUGH DRAFT. SPELLING, PUNCTUATION AND GRAMMAR ERRORS WILL BE CORRECTED BY A PROFESSIONAL EDITOR WHEN THE FINAL VERSION IS PUBLISHED.*
The Silent Road
“You’re exhausted, Mimi needs a potty break and we really should fuel up.”
I looked over at the gauges. We had a left and right tank. The right was empty when I started driving. But we still had half a tank on the left. “We can go for another five-hundred miles.”
“Um…” Jake tapped the glass. “That isn’t exactly true.” The needle dropped all the way until it hoovered just before “E”.
“What the hell.”
“It’s a quirk.”
“Why didn’t we fill up at Love’s?” I made a hasty right off an exit claiming to have an Exxon station and food two miles ahead.
His cheeks pinked a pretty as a Gala Apple. “Ummm… hmmm…I decline to answer.”
“What fucked-up-ness is that?” I mimicked Jake adding a high nasal pitch. “I decline to answer.”
But he squinted ahead. I set my eyes to the road and saw what looked like tumbling leaves crossing over the pavement.
Tabasco was considered aero dynamic for its’ time and she did well, but if we were in as much of a wind-storm the brick side of our cargo would toss us from lane to lane. As it was, the drive was smooth sailing. Not even a breeze.
“What is that?” I threw my chin in the direction of the weird leaves.
“We don’t have time.” Then I got a closer look at this column of leaves. Black blotches spanned terrain from the left as far as I could see, over the road, then to the right beyond the raised ditch in an unbroken line. Those weren’t leaves. It wasn’t two sides of fallen foliage spilling over the road. They were hairy spiders. What shimmered as if brown tumbled over yellow were their eight little legs. Millions of them. Hell, billions.
Too late. Tires and crunchy insects intersected. Law of physics proved once again, the greater the mass, the greater chances of not being squished. Tabasco rolled right over the spiders and through their ranks.
“Oh come on!” Jake held his head in his palms. “Those were migrating tarantulas.”
“Your truck is fine.”
“Of course my truck is fine. But those tarantulas. I love tarantulas.”
“What? They’re awesome hunters.”
“Except when they are crossing the road.” I chuckled, but a part of me did feel bad. Once a deer crossed my path and though I tried to avoid her… she’d landed and caught on my grill. I was mad at her, myself, my rig, the county for not putting up gates along the road all the while pulling her carcass off. I made a cross out of dead vine and two oak branches wondering if she left any calf’s behind. Sometimes I pass her grave and always give the site a nod.
He sighed. “And now guts are all in the undercarriage.”
In the middle of nowhere a huge Exxon with a Subway, a pizza joint, a knife shop and a truck wash welcomed all means of travelers. Convenient. As if this situation happened before. “We’ll wash them off, you big baby.”
“Pull in here.” He pointed to the end pump.
Parking at the last station I cut the engine and went to inspect the damage. It was bad. Spider crusties everywhere.
Jake slumped looking at the carnage.
“At least you’d know what your chrome would look like painted flat black.”
He closed his eyes and shook his head.
“Sorry,” I mumbled to the spiders.
Jake snorted. “Sorry doesn’t absolve you.”
“Wasn’t talking to you, asshole.” I turned back and let out a mournful sigh. One of the poor bastards still plastered to the grill twitched.
Mimi sniffed at the bumper while Jake went to fill the tanks. I did what I do. Blamed everyone. I should have stopped. He should have filled the tanks at Love’s. If we left on time, we might have missed them. We shouldn’t have been on that road. He should have told me sooner we needed fuel. I should have listened to Jake.
Once both tanks were filled, fifteen minutes later, we were in a washing bay. I had the soaping brush and he the water sprayer. Working as a team we started with the grill. Jake’s smile hadn’t returned yet. I decided it was my turn to use the puns.
“Hey, why did the spider cross the road?”
Jake shook his head. “My curiosity is peaked.”
“To get to his web… site.”
I got a chuckle from that one. Not that making him laugh mattered.
“Oh wait, no, here’s another, why did the spider cross the road?”
He flipped his wrist and added a lisp to his speech. “Oh, do tell.”
A grimace flashed over my face. Bastard. I’d get him back. “To get to his spin doctor.”
Reveling in his well-deserved groan, I continued on. “What do spiders eat in Paris?”
“Not listening anymore.”
Clumps of guts and legs fell from the undercarriage. The horror in his eyes twisted into sadness. He wasn’t kidding. Jake loved spiders.
“No! Mimi!” Jake set the spray over his dog. “Don’t eat that!”
The dog ran off, spider legs hanging from her lips. Her owner dropped the sprayer and chased after his dog. “No, no, no, no.”
She spit out half a tarantula and trotted around the cab, hiding under the belly of the cargo hold.
“It’s not Fall yet.” I kept soaping the front though tempted to wash Mimi’s mouth out. Gross dog. “Wait till October for more apple spider.” Yeah, that was pretty bad. “Get it? Apple Cider. Apple spider? No?”
Mimi sneezed in my general direction. Guess she wasn’t one for puns. “My witticism is tragically lost on you.”
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