Alright, in the spirit of light-hearted fun, I managed to jam out a 27,000 word vampire novel in six days. Given that nobody in the family died of malnourishment, the house didn’t fall apart, and I didn’t lose any children, I feel pretty good about this. I might like it more if I had had more time to spend on it, but here it is, Chapter One of Driving at Twilight, for those interested in driving and Twilight. (I tried to keep the open mockery to a minimum, but it was really hard at times to keep it toned down.)
My grip tightened, white knuckles on a black steering wheel. I glanced in the mirror and accelerated.
The woman beside me clutched at her seat belt, face going pale. “What are you doing?”
I pushed the gas petal deeper, all the way to the floor, throwing us both back against our seats. The light flicked red.
“No! No, brakes!”
The car flew out into the intersection, engine roaring.
Bright headlights flared across my face and a horn blared. The woman screamed, red fingernails embedded in the car door. Brakes shrieked in the cool autumn air and we were through. I gasped for breath, a nervous laugh of triumph in my throat, and then the woman reached over and smacked me on the side of the head with the Driver’s Manual, snarling, “What is wrong with you?”
Husband thinks I should send a copy to the DMV. What do you think?