I, Effing Feline, the Most Literary Cat in the Entire Universe (c), have watched in exaspurration as my pet human, Edward Hoornaert, aka Mr Valentine, wastes time writing a novel in a month. Do you have any idea how little he’s petted me? The man is falling down on his job.
In retaliation, I’m switching from a thoroughly edited excerpt to a raw ten sentences, written in just the last week and not yet edited. That’ll show you, Mr V.
The heroine, Dusty, is a tech writer working with alien humans (Kwadrans) on a interstellar spaceship prototype. The installation is evacuated following a bomb threat. Dusty thinks she knows where on the ship the bomb is hidden, and she’s risking her life to find it.
So is someone else.
It was a man—or rather, a man’s legs, stuck in the tunnel leading to the bomb; apparently one lone security guard felt that duty overrode fear. Dusty shone her flashlight on him. “What are you doing?”
“Take my pants off.”
Dusty blinked in surprise. “As pickup lines go, that one’s really horrible.”
“An American female,” he said with a groan. “Spirits save me.”
“A Kwadran male with an attitude problem. God save me.”
Effing Feline again. A time bomb is ticking, he’s trapped because his pants are caught on something — and they’re spouting their prejudices against each other. Idiots.
Mr V tentatively titles this work Alien Contact for Heroines, but ‘heroines’ is just plain wrong. If Dusty gets killed by this bomb, who’ll pet her cat? Repeat after me, humans: a heroine is a woman who prioritizes petting and feeding her cat.
Make sure you read the snippets by other great weekend writing warriors.
Alien Contact for Heroines will be Book 4 in the Alien Contact for Idiots series. Book 3 is currently with beta readers.