As of this writing, I have almost three days of National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) in the bag. So far so good. I'm averaging around 2000 a day, which is better than the 1667 I'll need to make the 50K goal. I need a cushion because I'm pretty sure I won't be writing as much this weekend. (Sleepover with 6 11 year old boys + LSU at Alabama… Enough said.)Already I've learned some things- I write in 200-400 words bursts. Serious writing = serious munchies. I am compulsive about checking my word count.
Also- Contingency is a FREE download at Smashwords right now. It's available in Kindle and Nook formats. (It's also free on Goodreads. Just click on the "read book" button.)
November 15th – Precedent for Kindle and Nook. (Then I can compulsively check my sales numbers instead of my words count.)
Finally, here's a little – unedited – piece of the novel I'm working on for NaNoWriMo… It's called Sanction. Have a great weekend!
Tuesday, March 10
“All rise.”
It was no less intimidating the second time the judge swept into the courtroom, his black robe swirling behind him. “Please, be seated,” he said, and Shannon Molinsky, her parents and everyone else did just that.
She fixed her eyes on the back of Dylan Snider’s head, several rows ahead of them at the defense table. His black hair was longer than she remembered, and it lay in neat layers. His earring was gone, and in his tailored navy suit he could have passed for a banker or one of the new attorneys at her father’s law firm. Anything but a rapist.
Her brother testified this morning. One of the four girls bringing the charges was a patient of his. “Her injuries were consistent with a sexual assault,” Joel said. Her parents both stiffened with those words. They knew she’d been with Dylan, but that was all they knew.
They protested when she announced she wanted to come to the trial. “I don’t want you anywhere near that punk,” her father said. “He’s bad news.” She didn’t disagree.
“Do you still have feelings for him?” her mother asked. Not those kind of feelings.
She couldn’t blame either one of them, though. Not after last summer. Three weeks after her brother Brad’s murder, she dropped off the face of the earth. Her brilliant plan had been to punish her father. After all, his affair led to Jack, which brought Jack’s grandfather to Brad’s mission downtown, which led to Brad and Jack rushing out onto the streets and a drive-by shooting. Someone … someone had to be responsible for Brad’s death. Not the shooter. Her father. Twisted thinking.
She went to a party at Dylan’s house and was arrested for drinking. Her dad flipped. He wouldn’t let her explain she’d taken one sip of punch after eating a hot pepper. That was it. No, his mind was made up. Case closed.
She went out with Dylan, and he came positively unglued. So she snuck out one Saturday morning, with Dylan’s help. After his “help,” she couldn’t bear to face her parents. It was New Year’s Day when her dad found her and brought her home. Six months later.
“The defense calls Dylan Aaron Snider to the stand.”
Her mother reached out, but Shannon quickly withdrew her hand. Her mother couldn’t know how cold and suddenly clammy her hands were. Instead, Shannon folded her hands in her lap, catching a glimpse of her father’s scowl. Just wait ’til he starts talking, Dad.
With puppy dog eyes, Dylan spun a sad tale about pawing, desperate girls pushing themselves on him, threatening to tell everyone he’d raped them if he didn’t give in. Shannon’s folded hands became clenched fists. Lies. All of it. Lies. Relayed in that same soft, mellow voice he’d used on her.
“Oh no sir,” he said to his lawyer. “I never gave her any reason to think that I was interested in a sexual relationship.”
That was the only thing he was interested in. Shannon crossed her legs tightly. He was going to talk his way out of this. The jury, all paying rapt attention, were buying his version. He would walk out of here scot-free after raping four girls. If they didn’t get justice, neither would she.
Finally, Dylan looked across the courtroom directly at her. “I never hurt anyone. I never took advantage of anyone. I never violated anyone’s boundaries. I never asked anyone to do anything they weren’t completely comfortable with. Never.”
White rage exploded in Shannon’s head, and with total disregard for the courtroom, for the jury, for her parents, she leapt to her feet, and pointed a finger at Dylan Snider’s heart. “He’s lying! He’s a rapist! HE RAPED ME!”
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Just a few quick notes - 
Each day I am humbled by the response to Contingency & Indemnity, especially the emotional connection readers have with the characters and their struggles with the God they cling to. This week we contracted to produce three more books. This is a scary prospect. What if the first ones were a fluke? What if these aren't as good? What if they don't engage readers? What if they aren't as deep, or though-provoking or genuine? (You see, being a writer is a lot like mental illness…)