Novel in a Day

Aaaaaaaaah! What did I get myself into?! 

I have no simple way to describe what the heck is going on, so I decided to steal the NiaD (Novel in a Day) description: 

Novel in a Day is an annual event where a group of writers from across the planet get together and write a novel. A whole novel, in a single day.

The event differs from other writing events in three ways:

1. The first is that our aim is to produce something that has a single coherent plot that is actually enjoyable as a work of fiction! The basic plot structure is worked out in advance of the event, and then broken down into bite sized chunks for the authors to work on.
2. The second difference is that quality, not volume, is our goal. Each participant has a ‘target’ of a very manageable 1,500 words (submissions received vary from there to around 4,500). We’ll be writing something you’re proud of. 1,500 well written and edited words that invoke genuine emotion are far better than 10,000 ones that readers skim over!
3. The third difference is that you get to test your skills in a new an challenging environment: Unusual time pressures. No control of the wider plot. Oh, and here’s an important one… No knowledge of what happens in the story outside of your own chapter. You only get the information you need to write your section: Character sheets, location sheets (if required) and a brief outline of the plot points you need to cover.  That’s it!

How it works
You receive your briefing pack electronically at midnight on the morning of the event (UK time). You then have until 8pm the same day to write and email in your chapter so that they can be collated and turned into a book. The full novel is made available in epub mobi and pdf formats, as well as a Scrivener project file by midnight the next morning. 

You don’t need to be a professional writer to take part (although several are), but you do need to be committed and confident. Committed, because there are no back up writers, and no time to make good on missing sections… if you don’t deliver, you leave a hole. Confident, because you need to be comfortable that you’re able to produce work in a time-pressured environment that you’re happy with people reading.

Two friends have done NiaD before, which is how I learned of it. So basically we're a bunch of crazy people writing like mad for half a dozen hours, attempting to write something legible and coherent. 😳 

Actually, the time limit and the fact that you're only writing one chapter is what got me to participate. I work better with a deadline and one chapter is a manageable chunk, as opposed to the daunting task of writing a book...or even a short story. 

I joined a couple friends at the Mill Coffee & Tea @ Telegraph so we could work through this mess together. We met up last night for about three hours and then again this morning for another four. I also worked on my chapter at home for about an hour/hour and a half last night. The Mill closed at 11pm and I wanted to get a few hundred more words under my belt before calling it a night.

The fact that we were given different chapters has its pros and cons - we're not in direct competition (which is good), but it's harder to talk through issues we're running up against, since our settings and main characters are different (which is bad). 

At 6pm last night I received short descriptions of the main characters and this chapter brief: 

Background	APRIL 2019 - PARIS, FRANCE ZOE EVANS went on a weekend break with her friend KATE FISHER. Kate and Zoe were attacked and ended up in the Morgue. Kate is dead. Zoe is a vampire.
Things that have already happened	Zoe has hired LOUIS RAYMOND, a Canadian private detective living in Paris to try and find her another vampire she can talk to to find out which myths (sunlight, crosses etc) are real and which aren't. They've met one vampire (now staked) who gave them the name of another vampire -- GEORGE GORDON.
Begins with	Raymond at work.
Chapter Details	Raymond does some digging and finds information on George Gordon. He tries to make an appointment but can't get in to see him. The next day when Raymond comes in to his office he discovers it has been broken into. Checking the security footage -- he can't see anyone in the room, but things move, confirming that (a) don't appear on digital footage, and (b) the intruders were vampires.
Ends with	Raymond realises he's made himself a target for this George Gordon vampire.

Vampires are real

In this book the following things are true, but bear in mind the characters may well not know this yet, so please be careful about giving the game away on some of these!!

Crosses - no effect

Holy water - no effect

Crossing running water - fine

Counting things - not obsessed about t

Stake to the heart - kills em, and they just become a corpse

Decapitation - as stake

Silver - burns heavily. Prolonged exposure would be toxic too

Fire - can be killed by fire

Sunlight - would reduce to ash

Shapeshift - no

Fly - no

Reflection in mirrors - no (can’t see their clothes either)

Photograph - no - not even on digital

Shadow - no

Sparkle - hell, no

I sent the moderator a couple questions, including asking for background on George Gordon (he's a reclusive businessman investor type) and whether Raymond was aware of the supernatural prior to meeting Zoe (he was not).  

For better or worse, this is what I came up with.......

###

​Raymond looked out the window of his office onto Rue Favart, musing about the situation before him. Until recently he had been blissfully unaware of the existence of the supernatural and tracking down information about them certainly wasn’t a normal part of his job description as a private detective. And if vampires weren’t merely relegated to fan​​tasy, what other terrors that go-bump-in-the-night were a part of his new reality?

Sitting down at his desk, Raymond began searching for information about George Gordon. A cursory online search provided little information about him - the few images he could find were all oddly dated, showing a man in his mid-thirties with the complexion of a drinker and severe bedhead, the unfashionable kind that looked like he’d literally just roll out of bed, as opposed to the contrived appearance which took half an hour and an obscene amount of product to accomplish.

A few boards and businesses also popped up, but some digging revealed Gordon was only loosely associated with any of them. While presidents, CEOs and general managers dealt with the day-to-day operations of the companies, Gordon’s name appeared buried on lists of investors or general committee members. He certainly had his fingers in numerous and diverse pies.

Finding an investment firm which included Gordon’s name near the top of their board of directors, Raymond decided to call and see what information he could elicit from the receptionist.

“Hello, Banpiroa Investment Corporation. How may I direct your call?”

“To whom am I speaking?”

“Selene.”

“Selene, I’m hoping you can help me. I’m trying to get a hold of George Gordon. Would you know the best way for me to go about doing that? Does he have an office in your building or a secretary I could speak with about setting up an appointment?”

“......”

“Selene?”

“I’m not sure to whom I can direct you. Mr. Gordon does not have an office here, nor does he visit often. ”

“Is there someone in the managing director’s office I could speak with?”

“Well...let me see if Eva is available.”

Raymond tuned out the tinny strain of classical music that played while he waited on hold.

“Dario Boucher’s office, Eva speaking.”

“Eva, my name is Louis Raymond and I’m hoping you can help me. I need to speak with Mr. Gordon and have been unable to find any contact information for him. Do you have any you could share with me? Or do you know whom I could speak with to gain such information?”

“..............” Click.

“Hello? Eva?”

Frowning irritably at the phone, Raymond rose and walked into his barren reception area. With little information and fewer leads, Raymond felt his only choice was to appear in person at Banpiroa Investment in an attempt to garner any information possible. At least they couldn’t hang up on a person when they appeared in the flesh.

  Walking out the front door of his office into the misty late afternoon, Raymond sauntered down the Rue Favart, past the other stone buildings that lined the street, toward the Boulevard des Italiens. Once he rounded the corner, he continued on to the Rue Laffitte, where he hailed a taxi. After providing the address of Banpiroa Investment Corps., he sat back and watched as Paris flashed by his window.

In the three years since he had moved to Paris from Vancouver, Raymond had slowly begun taking this historic metropolis for granted. With no companion to join him in discovering local haunts or roam through the innumerable museums and galleries filled with priceless art and sculptures, he’d begun to lose sight of what drew him to Paris in the first place.

As they rode along the Seine, Raymond allowed his eyes to wander over his surroundings. He deliberately appreciated the beauty of the Ponte Alexandre III bridge - the ornate detail and art nouveau lamps - and the Flamme de la Liberté, the gold-leafed torch commemorating the friendship between the United States and France. Despite the light drizzle, the Debilly footbridge was crowded with tourists gawking at the Eiffel Tower, taking poorly curated photographs that would later be uploaded to Facebook or Instagram with the hashtags #eiffeltower, #visitfrance and #americansinparis.

The taxi finally pulled up opposite the Banpiroa Investment Corps building. After settling with the driver, he gracefully slid off the bench seat, moving gingerly between the taxi and the stairs across from the office. With a build larger and several inches taller than the average Frenchman, Raymond had noticed minor inconveniences since moving to Paris. The architecture of the historic buildings and streets were definitely constructed to accommodate smaller conveyances and personages than the modern norm.

Straightening his suit jacket, Raymond flashed a charismatic smile in preparation to charm the information he sought out of whomever necessary. He strolled confidently into the main reception area, correctly assuming the twiggy blonde seated at the desk was the Selene he’d spoken with on the phone.

“Good afternoon. How can I help you?’

“Could you direct me to Dario Boucher’s office? I’m his 5 o’clock.”

“Up the stairs, down the hall to the left. His executive assistant Eva will be able to assist you.”

“Merci.”

Taking the steps two at a time, Raymond easily reached the second floor without becoming the least bit winded. Selene admired his athletic physique till he passed far enough down the hallway to be out of her line of sight.

Exuding magnetism and poise, Raymond approached Eva with the confidence of a man used to achieving whatever he set his mind to accomplishing.

“Bonsoir, Eva. We spoke on the phone earlier this afternoon. My name is Louis Raymond and I need to make contact with George Gordon. Is that something you can help me with or, if not, would you be so kind as to direct me to the right person?”

The consummate professional, Eva took his abrupt entrance in stride, barely even blinking.

“I apologize for the call dropping earlier,” she said with a slight yet sophisticated French accent. “We’ve been having technological difficulties all day. And I’m afraid I am unable to assist you. Mr. Gordon does not keep an office here, nor do I have access to his contact information. I’m sorry you made the trip down here unnecessarily.”

As Raymond started to reply, the door behind Eva opened, revealing a spindly middle aged man with heavily lidded eyes. Holding the jacket which completed his three piece suit, he was clearly on his way out. His gaze swiftly inspected Raymond, assessing both him and the situation. Without breaking eye contact with Raymond, he directed his comment to Eva.

“I’m on my way out. Have the paperwork on my desk completed and properly filed by the morning. I will be in promptly at 7am.”

Eva nodded and rose, gently waving her hand in Raymond’s general direction.

“Mr. Boucher, this gentleman seeks an audience with Mr. Gordon. I explained this is not his office nor are we in regular communication with him.”

Ever observant, Raymond noted Boucher took in a quick, sharp breath, grimacing ever so slightly.

“And you are?”

“Louis Raymond, private detective. I need to speak with Mr. Gordon in regard to an issue I’m working on for a client.”

Boucher’s smile did not reach his eyes.

“Eva is correct, monsieur. Mr. Gordon is not directly involved with Banpiroa. He’s merely as an investor - a silent partner and member of our board of directors. He does not take appointments, preferring to maintain his privacy. I’m sure you can appreciate that. And as you have no further business here, I will escort you out.”

Turning with finality, Boucher proceeded down the hallway, while Eva walked into his recently vacated office. Raymond had no choice but to follow Boucher back down the stairs and toward the large frosted glass front door.

As he passed the reception desk, he threw Selene a smile and a cheeky wink, successfully receiving a coy look in return, ensuring he would be favorably received should he decide to return.

Immediately upon exiting the building, Boucher turned to Raymond, jabbing him in the chest with a boney finger.

“George Gordon does not like to be disturbed. I would counsel you to leave him in peace and stop trying to contact him.”

Before Raymond could open his mouth to respond, Boucher clambered into the chauffeured car waiting at the curb, unceremoniously leaving Raymond standing in the rain.

Once the limo had turned the corner and the taillights disappeared, Raymond shook a collection of rain droplets from his short hair and walked back into the reception area. Selene looked up from her desk as he approached.

“Is everyone so friendly around here or is it something about my face,” he asked, grinning.

“I see you caught Mr. Boucher on his way out. He can be rather abrupt.”

“I’m sure he’s a very busy man with a full schedule. If you don’t mind my asking, what can you tell me about George Gordon? Not only has he been utterly inaccessible, but the man seems to be shrouded in mystery. I’ve been able to find so little background on him.”

Selene looked uneasily toward the second floor hallway.

“I’ve never actually met Mr. Gordon. The board meetings are always late in the evening, long after I’ve left for the day. All I know is Mr. Gordon is rather reclusive and seldom appears in public.”

Selene stopped abruptly, looking over Raymond’s shoulder. He turned to see Eva standing on the second floor landing, blatantly eavesdropping on the conversation. Selene cowered slightly, shrinking into her seat. Raymond smiled up at Eva and offered a little wave before turning back to Selene.

“I appreciate your help, Selene. Bonsoir,” he said as he headed for the door. When he reached it, he could feel Eva’s eyes on his back, following him out.

The rain had stopped, so Raymond decided to walk a bit before calling it a night and heading for home. He decided to play tourist and wander down to the Avenue Foch toward the Arc de Triomphe. Spying a small but lively bistro, he decided to stop for dinner, ordering the freshly caught salmon and a bottle of  passable Marsanne.

After sharing in a spirited debate with his fellow diners about the merits of soccer and Canada’s growing relevance in the sport due to its increased popularity, Raymond decided to get some sleep before continuing his search for the elusive George Gordon in the morning.

His head pleasantly buzzing from the Marsanne, Raymond uncharacteristically failed to notice he was being followed until the assailant was upon him. Struck from behind, Raymond was thrown into the street, narrowly missing being hit by a passing Renault.

Leaping up, he frantically looked around, searching for his attacker. But the street was deserted, save for a lone taxi that had just turned down the street. Shaken, Raymond gained the driver’s attention, collapsing into the back seat as he provided his address.

Unlocking his front door, Raymond entered cautiously, doing a complete sweep of the apartment before dropping onto his couch. He chided himself for being paranoid. Surely being thrust into the street was a coincidence, an unfortunate accident on a busy Paris evening. But as he thought back, he remembered he was the solitary occupant of the street and sidewalk until the taxi drove up. He shivered involuntarily and, after double checking to ensure his door and windows were locked, took a hot shower before climbing into bed and drifting off into a troubled sleep.

The next morning Raymond rose, preparing a quick breakfast before heading into the office. As soon as he turned down the Rue Favart, he knew something was wrong. While the entry to his office was set inside a stone doorway, blocking a direct view, he could tell by the shadows that door was ajar.

He approached the door with trepidation, slowly pushing it open to reveal the hallway which led to the reception area. He made his way down it cautiously, finding the desk overturned and the office supplies previously stored within lying scattered on the floor.

Bracing himself for the inevitable disarray, Raymond guardedly stepped over  the threshold of his office and into the chaos that had previously been his meticulously spartan workspace. The three chairs which sat in front of his desk were smashed to pieces, covered in his files and stuffing from the lacerated couch. His desktop and phone had been swept from the desk and were lying in a jumbled mess on the floor. Random papers were strewn about the room, layering the floor like giant white leaves after a windstorm. As he turned to completely survey the damage, he saw “stop digging, GG” splashed across the wall in what he hoped was red paint.

Not only had Raymond failed to track down George Gordon or acquire any real information about him, he had clearly made himself a target by seeking him out.

Becoming the recipient of a vampire’s ire was literally the last concern Raymond ever expected to encounter before this case!

###

I'm genuinely amazed that I not only made the deadline (2pm CST), but wrote 2,173 words that form reasonably coherent sentences (the word minimum was 1,500)! 

I threw in a few Easter Eggs for myself: 
↣ Banpiroa in Basque = Vampire
↣ Selene means "moon"
↣ Eva means "life"
↣ Dario means "possesses a lot" (he works in an investment firm, after all) and Boucher means "butcher." I was originally going to make him a vampire as well, but it would have been a logistical nightmare since it was still light out when he left the office. 

This is the first time I've participated in NiaD and I'm sure it won't be the last. The genres change each iteration, including westerns, ghosts and a space theme. Previous years compilations are linked at the bottom of NiaD's homepage.

I look forward to seeing what happened before and after my chapter once they publish the final compilations of everyone's submissions! 



~ Katie Q.  🐧


UPDATE: They posted the complete stories already, less than 12 hours after the submission deadline!! They were able to make 3 versions of the story...my friends & I all ended up in the same version (I'm chapter 13)! Here's a link to the PDF of our "Butterfly Dawn."

http://pigfender.com/files/niad9/ButterflyDawn_blue.pdf