It's Friday Already?!

Conn Mann Alt Poster for WEB VIEWThis will probably be a short, sweet post, because I have to be about my 1667 words for today–

Yes, it’s that time of year again. November is upon us, and NaNoWriMo is here.

This year, I am writing the first draft of the third book in The Conn-Mann Chronicles, The Incredibly Irritating Irishman.

I don’t want to spoil it too much, but suffice to say that Josephine Mann may have met her match in her mysterious cousin Seamus O’Leary.

I am really enjoying the dime novel that goes with it this time–Practical Polly and the Village of Doom. Garrett Goldthwaite is back on top of the game. To follow along with Polly’s perilous predicaments, visit the Conn-Mann Facebook page for daily snippets.

Here’s the first sample to give you a taste of it:

 

Polly Peterson peered out of the thick underbrush,scanning the clearing before her. The village looked quiet in the throes of after-dinner torpor. None of the brown-skinned natives was to be seen. Even the ever-present children were absent. No dogs roamed the fringes, no women sung about their chores. Where was everyone? Was it seriously just time for a siesta, as she had seen with other tribal groups?

She bit her lip. Somewhere in that deceptively quiet landscape was the man she loved-and she wasn’t leaving without him. Despite his orders.

The thatched huts huddled in a rough circle around the central fire-pit were little more than lean-tos. She could probably knock them down with a gentle push…but that wouldn’t free Jack Stanton from the clutches of the cannibals.

She didn’t want to think too hard about that last part. What if Jack had been lunch? She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if he was dead. Especially if he had been eaten because she wanted to make a name for herself as an explorer the world took seriously.

She ducked back into the underbrush, heart pounding, as a lone warrior stumbled out of his hut and relieved himself against a tree. She shuddered. Primitive man…why did she want to research these people again?

She swiped her forearm across her face. It was so damn hot here in the Amazon basin. Her clothes clung to her, soaked with sweat.

Jack had tried to dissuade her from the expedition. She should have listened. He was the more experienced explorer, after all.

She might even admit to him that he was right.

If she ever saw him alive again.

Damn it all. They should have gone to the South Pole!

 

 

Feel free to leave comments on what you would like to see next. I’ll talk to Garrett and see what we can do! 😉

 

About RieSheridanRose

Rie Sheridan Rose multitasks. A lot. Her short stories appear in numerous anthologies, including Nightmare Stalkers and Dream Walkers Vols. 1 and 2,  and Killing It Softly. She has authored eight novels, six poetry chapbooks, and lyrics for dozens of songs. She tweets as @RieSheridanRose.
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