The Muse

So, "Moore For Less Investigations: The Kid" isn't exactly my first novel. About six weeks ago I was working on my first project "The Violet Eclipse." It's a high fantasy story involving a sword master and his talking magic sword trying to save the world from being over run by demons. I had been slowing writing the book while running the story as a D and D campaign. So about six weeks ago was finally got some real inspiration and was writing regularly. I got to the 10th chapter, 91 pages,  31 thousand words when the muse showed up. The muse took her two handed inspiration mallet and whacked me on the head. I was like "That would be cool" so i jotted down some note and put it on the side. The idea however had different plans. It would not let me be. So,  here we are  six weeks later, 50615 words, 16 chapters, 147 pages. In addition I have the synopses for book 2, 2 short stories, and working on the concept of a tabletop RPG. The Muse is a powerful force. Anywho for today's sample let's meet Lucy.

Pre-edit Teaser. Moore for Less Investigations: The Kid

Lucy walked out of the mist waving a hand. She stood at about four feet two inches tall. She was slender, curvy and athletic all at the same time. Her skin was somewhere between a light hazel and cream.

She was gifted with the larger that average eyes of the gnome, almond shaped and tilted downwards like the elves. They were the color of aquamarine. These of course appeared even larger behind the magnified lenses of her goggles. She had a cute button nose and a small mouth on a round face. Her strawberry blonde hair was dyed blue at the tips and pulled back into a long tail. To complete the package Lucy had a pair of tall pointed ears piece with several dangling ears rings made of random gears.

She was wearing a mechanic’s jumpsuit with top tied off around her waist. She wore a stained blue blouse that tucked into the bottom half of her jumpsuit. Strapped to her arms was a pair of black power gauntlets. Similar in style the one worn by both Franis the bouncer and the orc that attacked me at the nanny's apartment. I had seen more that my fair share of those today I thought to myself. Lucy's were not designed for fisticuffs but to allow her to work with heavy machinery.

“Marcus Moore! How many times have I told you to vent your steam before you pull into the garage?” she yelled.