Genre: Science Fiction
About chokolattejediLocation: Colorado Home Region: Age:22 Favorite writers: Tamora Pierce, Robert Jordan, Terry Pratchett, Anne McCaffrey, Douglas Adams, etc Favorite music: I shuffle my itunes, so anything can happen Non-noveling interests: Theater, Other Writing, My Craft Soon-to-be-Company |
Joined: novembre 2, 2006 This Year: Official Participant NaNoWriMo History: NaNoWriMo posts: 38 NaNoWriMo buddies: 10
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Brief Author Bio: I'm 22, looking for a roommate, trying to figure out if it is worth it to make my craft obsession into an actual company, working full time, trying to write a novel, envolved in multiple holiday writing exchanges, and am the proud (and often exasperated) owner of a cat. Say 'hi,' Teyla. jiokjo09uji Thank you Teyla. |
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Synopsis: Lady of the Oceans
Captain Horatio's life is floating along fairly smoothly, until Nanny Gemma gives him a tarot reading that will challenge everything he thought he believed.
Excerpt: Lady of the Oceans
They built their buildings outward until they ran out of places to go and every inch of the land was covered. And then they built upwards, until the ground was invisible from the roofs and the sunlight - what of it there was through the smog - couldn't even reach the streets below.
But eventually, even this wasn't enough, and they figured out a way to dig down beneath the buildings that were already there. They employed crystal-driven technology to power their new machines, and just dug lower and lower. The homes themselves had special coolant systems, to counteract the proximity to the Earth's core, but the prisoners who built them had no such things.
It was rumored that once you served your time in the core, you got to go free, but no felon ever lived long enough to cash in on his reward. Well, no felon but one.
Captain Horatio Saint Clauve was rumored to be the only man to have ever served his time in the core and lived to tell the tale, though he rarely told it. He had told Valencia though, and she believed, and that was enough. Not that she was a blabbermouth, but if Valencia said something, you listened up sharply or you got popped on the head with whatever she had handy. And usually her hand strayed to the counter with the heavy pots and pans on it.
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