About 2600 words later, I come to the end of chapter 15, and of Act Two. So sayeth Magic Meter:
Still progressing much too slowly for my liking, but still progressing. Can’t bring myself to complain too much about that. Beats the hell out of the alternative.
Last week’s revisions also included a quick retcon—for certain values of the word quick. Have to be very careful with retconning, you know. But this was just a small thing, and I kinda needed it.
Up ahead, Act Three. And miles to go before I sleep.
Anyway, your snippet:
Berkowitz said, “So far, at least fifty homes have been gutted, and that total is only going to increase, especially if the fires jump the 101. Thanks to you, most of my people are busy coordinating the evacuation of the entire eastern half of the Hills. Oh, and we’ve had seven deaths, two of them children.”
“Damn shame.” Fifty houses, seven dead. Not bad.
“If we count the three at the Hollywood Bowl, that puts the toll at ten. That was you at the Hollywood Bowl, I presume?”
Eddie only shrugged.
Berkowitz clicked his tongue. “I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me why you would do such a thing.”
“Woke up in a bad mood, I guess.”
The bald asshole maintained his composure. Eddie was impressed; he was pretty skilled at getting under another person’s skin when he wanted to.
No updates for Write Club.
And I’m out.
