Teri's worst day begins...

Now starts my new experimental story, Transmigrated Teri!

My friend

Gina Hogan Edwards

has started a 31 day challenge for July that’s a bit less intimidating than Camp NaNoWriMo: write and publish 200 words a day (she goes into they whys and hows of it over at her newsletter!). Given that, uh, I’m the one who challenged her to do it, I decided to throw my hat in the ring and do it too!

My personal challenge, though, is “START A NEW STORY, DAMNIT, KIMBOO!” I have been sitting on this idea for a year now and well, I guess I’m starting a new story? I’ll be aiming for at least 200 words a day, so it might be a bit disjointed to start.

This is totally a work in progress with all the uncertainty that entails but if you follow along, let me know what you think!

The set up:

Teri Travers, a nearly-50 bitter “office lady” who has not led a happy life gets in a massive car accident after being sent home on the first day of COVID lockdown in 2020. She (and her dog) wake up in a strange new world that is also strangely familiar…that’s right, she’s been transmigrated into the world of her favorite 1990s fantasy novel series, the massively popular, critically disdained, and incredibly tropetastic Allisar Fireborn Chronicles by the infamous Chadwick Jarvaldson, aka “Fuckin’ Chad” to all his very annoyed fans who are still waiting for the final book to be published.

Here we gooooooo

March 16, 2020

Teri pulled into the parking lot at Barkingham Palace with a white knuckled grip on the wheel. In the passenger seat, her dog Theo sat looking out the windshield expectantly. He absolutely loved doggy daycare and had pretty much forgotten that she existed, his tongue lolling out as he panted with excitement.

“Yeah yeah. Hold on.” She took a deep breath to steady herself. There was a 100% chance that the university was going into lockdown that day or the next in response to the threat of COVID, but everyone was pretending that it was business as usual in the meantime. She did not want to drop Theo off knowing that she would probably just be back to pick him up in a couple of hours, but her options were limited.

They walked in the front door to find the front desk clerk, Angie, on the phone, already looking aggravated at only 7:30 a.m.

“Yes, Mr. Dundin, we’re open, but as I’ve explained several times, I can’t guarantee that we will be staying open. Yes, I know it might be inconvenient. Yes, but on the other hand, if we go into lockdown then will it matter? Yes sir I’ll write down that complaint and give it to my manager.” She wrote absolutely nothing down and then hung up. “Okay, boomer,” she hissed at the phone before hanging up.

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