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About the author
moodswing
Novel: Six States Away
Genre: Other Genres
4,059 words so far  

About moodswing

Location: Minneapolis

Home Region:
USA :: Minnesota :: Twin Cities

Age:26

Website: http://myspace.com/theanxious

Favorite novels: American Gods, Orlando, The Rum Diary, The Awakening, On the Road

Favorite writers: Jack Kerouac, Hunter S. Thompson, Virginia Woolf, Tim O'Brien, Douglas Adams, Neil Gaiman, Warren Ellis etc

Favorite music: www.pandora.com/users/isaidrenae

Non-noveling interests: music, comedy, colours, pictures, teleporting

Joined: Octubre 11, 2005

This Year: Official Participant

NaNoWriMo History:
'01 '04 '05 '06 '07
'08

NaNoWriMo posts: 79

NaNoWriMo buddies: 33

 

Brief Author Bio:

Somewhat young lady; likes hats, frills, knives; should be paid to laugh; likes stars, is a Capricorn; learning to properly capitalize and likes to yell for no good reason; she fidgets.
She is unemployed, a drain on the fruits of society.
Left legacy in Florida for life in Minnesota.
She may be attempting to learn how to change the speed of time

Excerpt: Six States Away

EXCERPT ONE:
Max ordered a drink. Not sure if he wanted a whiskey sour or beer, he got something green; it tasted of frost, but not at all like menthol.

*******
EXCERPT TWO:

We are the people we wanted to become. For tens of years the structure we’ve sought, struggled to bring forth has taken hold of us, we’ve let it take hold of us and we’re reaping the benefits of belonging to each other… no. [she scratched that out] taking care of each other [she scratched that out too] doing the right thing, something to do with this state of time

Instead of scratching out the last part, the pen dragged an inky blotched line through the rest of the margin. Audrey dropped the pen, folded the page and tore it in two. Her penmanship looked awful and worse, her words felt empty. She was out of practice in every sense. The bathtub looked warm and inviting, but this early in the day it was still cool porcelain and negative space.
She finished her glass of water, put the loose sheets of paper back in the center desk drawer and set the pen safely on top of the paper. She closed the drawer slowly; ceremoniously; and went to her clothes to dress herself.
Audrey was living in a small open apartment. It was large enough for her modest trappings; enough counter space for cooking though she had not yet had time to do so; a bench and table for eating, which was also where she would do her work and make her plans; where she hopefully would have the time to improve her personal writing.
There was a door in the kitchen that led to the bathroom. A tiny room where the ceiling jutted out in such angles it was immediately clear someone had converted a once empty space into a bathroom; and Audrey’s apartment was on the top most floor of a well preserved old house, probably still standing from the last century. A standalone bathtub took up most of the bathroom. Taking up most of the apartment was a spacious area for sleeping, entertaining, dancing, what have you. Her rooms had good windows, good light and a charming personality.
The apartment was in Berlin, {US state here} and Audrey had been living there one week.

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