Another 2300 words on the “Just a Game” rewrite brings Magic Meter to here:
Aaand we’re done. Pretty much. The title needs to change, and I’d like to trim this by about 1000 words, if possible, and make a few other tweaks. I’ll be saving those for another pass later in the month.
It’s official: I rewrote this one from the ground up, keeping only the basic premise and main characters, and building an entirely different story around them. Which makes this essentially another first draft. I don’t know if it’s any good, but it’s certainly an improvement over the previous first draft.
Next up—getting into dream time for the next novel. I actually have two possible projects in mind; certain unnamed circumstances will dictate which one I’ll go with. (Ooo . . . cryptic much, Rotundo?)
Anyway, a snippet:
He knew the gates would be chained shut, the links too thick to sever, even with bolt cutters. But the angle between the west and south stands was protected only by a tall chain link fence topped with coiled barbed wire. The bolt cutters would work just fine there. He promised himself he would send an anonymous donation to the university to cover the cost of the damage.
He hesitated before making the first snip, knowing he’d come to a point of no return. He could still back away from this. No one, not even Beth, knew he was out. He’d literally sneaked out of the house after she’d gone to bed. All during the drive to Whaley, he assuaged his fears by telling himself it was not too late, that he had done no real harm yet. But now it was just after one in the morning, with the stark reality of the stadium looming in the cold darkness, and this fence stood between him and the completion of this mad quest.
He made three judicious cuts, each accompanied by a soft ting as the links snapped, and then he was inside.
No updates for Write Club.
Headin’ for the solstice . . .
