You are currently viewing WIP: Oscar’s Machine Testing, a GOTV Book 1 Excerpt (unedited)
Photo by Mo on Pexels.com

WIP: Oscar’s Machine Testing, a GOTV Book 1 Excerpt (unedited)

Happy Wednesday! Monday and Tuesday are behind you and if you’re like me, you’re planning for the weekend. Maybe you started planning for the weekend on Monday. Wouldn’t blame you if you did. This post will be a little different than most in that each Wednesday afternoon, I’m planning to send a snippet or excerpt from an upcoming book and from time to time a book you can read right now. In this same post, I’ll also give updates of what the plans are and if these posts are successful, I may even turn it into a bi-monthly newsletter for those who want to be in the know (Read: Want to join a mailing list and/or become a patron?).

First, the fun stuff! A short excerpt from my first urban fantasy novel

silhouette of person holding sparkler digital wallpaepr
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

He’d sent everyone away then, and called for clean up. The machine was temperamental. One wrong twist of the knob, one wrong calculation, and he would get what he wanted, but not in the way he expected. Would it be worth it? To meet them in the dreamscape and watch his nightmare become theirs? “It would be…adequate. But not perfect. And I don’t do adequate,” he said to himself. 

His father had taught him that to be the best was to assume. “Be better than the best,” he’d said. “You are the standard by which everyone should measure their success or failure, and screw what Thomas Edison said. In our family, failures are failures. Success is everything. We don’t do…adequate.” It was the last thing his father had said to him before she’d killed him. That bitch. She was the reason he was stuck in this hell on earth and had no family – his mother and father had died, and his brother had disappeared in a hail of— “Shit! Why can’t I remember that last part? In a hail of what? It wasn’t bullets. It wasn’t a fire. It was…” he made a guttural sound and shook his head at the memory. “Doesn’t matter what it was. All that matters is what they did to them. Me.” He turned the metal tube and stroked its burnished skin. “Now that I’ve got you,” he said to his machine. “They’ll pay. See how they like loss on a massive scale.”

Oscar smiled then and counted his steps. Five steps back. Three steps right. His fingers reached for and grasped the edge of the door, then slid down until his arm was at a right angle. His hand met the cool copper head of his cane he rapped three times against the door. Three short bursts and the door opened. The sound waves followed him out of his lab and into this office. 

He could feel the shift from hard tile floor to plush carpet. The cane made no sound as he tapped it in front of him. In a few long strides he was at the standing desk he used both as podium and as buffer to the world. He was…what did they call him? Reclusive. He snorted when his second in command had said it, then invited the man in for a Scotch. Single malt. Aged 50 years. “You don’t mind pouring, do you? I might spill.” Dom had agreed and they’d soon clinked glasses in toast.

“So what are we toasting?” Dom had asked. “Reclusivity” said Oscar. Then,what do you know about dreams?”

“Not much,” the man had answered, taking a swig from his glass. Oscar had listened to the hiss as the liquid entered the man’s mouth and spilled down his throat. Oscar had set his glass on the dry bar’s granite countertop. The soft thud missed by his new drinking partner who began to drink faster, taking longer swigs, and finding his inhibitions lowered gave him cause to ask, “Why do you ask? What do you know about dreams?”

“Enough. I know enough. And I’m asking because…” Oscar had stopped. “Let me show you.” He reached out his hand, his cane watching from its place against the desk. “Don’t you need that?” 

“Need what?” Oscar asked. 

“Your cane.”

“No, I have you.” Oscar paused. “But it can’t hurt to have it nearby. Do you mind bringing it for me?” He heard the man pick it up, then took Dom by the arm. “Thanks.”

Together, they had walked across the room to Oscar’s lab. “This is where the real work gets done,” he’d said to his companion as they entered the lab. He’d liked Dom. Too bad he wasn’t strong enough. But his dream machine was his highest priority. Third casualty this month. He needed to fix his machine and fast.

What did you think of this excerpt? Tell me in the comments or email me.

close up shot of a typewriter
Photo by Markus Winkler on Pexels.com

Quick Updates:

Book Review Week got cut a couple of days short. Sorry about that, I’m still trying to get back into the swing of things. But I am getting better at posting to Instagram, so you can follow me @writinginthefastlane to see what I post somewhat regularly.

Dual Language Book Reviews are back! Looking for guest book reviewers to review books written in your native language and in English to widen audiences for both indie and established authors around the world. Also interested in books that have been translated into English that were originally written in another language. For example, The Librarian of Auschwitz was originally written in Spanish and translated into English. Interested? Send me your email and I’ll email you the details.

Newsletter in your inbox or your mailbox? What’s more fun?

Working on weekly blog posts every Tuesday, Wednesday and/or Sunday. Too much? As mentioned above, some posts will be excerpts from upcoming books or those that are currently available, some posts will be writing advice or day-in-the-life stuff, and for more behind the scenes and curated book and writing resource lists, I’d love for you to join me on Patreon.

Keep writing, keep reading, and take a peek at how the author-half lives. Welcome to the writing and reading community of Writing in the Fast Lane where we write fast, edit slow, and open doors to other worlds in this realm and the next.