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About the author
CheleCooke
Novel: Road Block
Genre: Mainstream Fiction
10,275 words so far  

About CheleCooke

Location: Derby, UK

Age:22

Website: http://chelecooke.blogspot.com/

Favorite writers: Jk Rowling, Jane Green, Helen Fielding, Terry Goodkind, Terry Pratchett, Louise Bagshaw.

Favorite music: Matchbox20, Rob Thomas, R.E.M, Goo Goo Dolls, Del Amitri, John Mayer

Non-noveling interests: Movies, socialising, web surfing, creating computer backgrounds

Joined: Noviembre 6, 2005

This Year: Official Participant

NaNoWriMo History:

NaNoWriMo posts: 8

NaNoWriMo buddies: 0

 

Synopsis: Road Block

What do you do when you realise you have the plot for a best seller in your head, but your main character is holding it to ransom? When the main characters of three other plot ideas are also being held hostage by a lunatic you yourself created.

Alexander Cole has been sitting in front of his laptop, on and off, for two years, eighty-six days, three hours, fifty-two minutes, and seven seconds without typing one word of his novel that he hasn’t deleted. Without a doubt, he is at the end of his rope. His main guy, Max Devlin is not the nicest of characters, and has proved this by holding the plot of the novel ransom… even from Alex.

Armed with nothing but his laptop, a week’s worth of clothes, two credit cards, his favourite novel, three quarters of a bottle of Malibu left over from Christmas, six cigarettes, an address book, his MP3 player, and a metal tin filled with odds and sods (including a bottle opening key ring, a tennis ball, and a broken Zippo lighter,) Alex goes on a road trip to break his way through the ultimate writer’s block.

Excerpt: Road Block

“Bien, vous voyez que je suis venu de la France. Je suis de Paris, seulement, votre système de train doit complètement affreusement comprendre. Je n'ai aucune idée comment vous l'anglais naviguez sur votre voie autour de votre pays. C'est une bonne chose l'Angleterre n'est pas le très grand pays, autrement vous tous n'arriveriez jamais n'importe où!”

“Look, I’m really sorry, mate,” Jake said with an apologetic shrug. “The only French I know is ‘Je n'avais pas les pantalons’. I can’t understand you.”

Having taken German in school, and having even failed that, Alex had no idea what Jake had said to the jabbering Frenchman. He knew a few choice phrases, ‘voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir’ springing to mind first, but he figured saying that now would be a very bad idea.

It also seemed that Jake’s phrase had been equally useful as the man just stared at him. Slowly, his gaze drifted down over Jake’s body and back up again. He stared some more.

“Qua?”

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