Some 3600 words’ worth of rewrite on Apocalypse Pictures Presents. Magic Meter say:
Still not very satisfactory progress, except that I finally solved the riddle of chapter six . . . in much the same way that Alexander the Great solved the Gordian Knot.
That’s right, kids. I cut it, after all. I got tired of trying to infuse it with life, and finally realized I didn’t need to. I stuffed a bit of it into a later chapter, and that was that.
This is a good thing for a couple of reasons. Most important, I’m able to move forward again. But it also saves me some word count that I fear I’m going to need in Act Two, which is where this rewrite gets really difficult fun.
Your snippet:
With grim amusement, he realized that he had become a bit of a cliché himself—the demanding director, à la James Cameron, or maybe Stanley Kubrick. Now, he was leading them into . . . well, he wasn’t even sure of that, exactly. Everyone knew the rumors about the Hills and Hollywood, but no one knew how much of them were true. From the sound of them, though, it seemed that things had gotten worse since he’d last been there.
His only ace in the hole was Catherine. She wouldn’t let him down; he was certain of it. If he could get his team to the secret backdoor, Catherine would take care of the rest.
Of course, he wasn’t certain yet exactly how he would get to the secret backdoor. But with Susan’s help, they should be able to get past the Hollywood barricades. Hell, the Mouseketeers allegedly managed it all the time. Gil and a skeleton cast and crew, carrying only what they would absolutely need, should be small and stealthy enough to get inside.
It would work. It had to work. Shooting on the backlot was meant to be.
No updates for Write Club.
Onward, though the way gets steeper from here.
