Holiday-related schedule disruption is in full swing, but I still managed another 3.5K on "From Earth I Have Arisen." Don’t believe me? Just ask Magic Meter:
I would be discouraged about missing my weekly goal, but . . .
Regular readers of these reports will know that I’ve been whining for weeks about not knowing how this was going to end. In fact, last week, I went so far as to suggest that no ending existed for this draft.
You know what’s coming, right?
Within 24 hours of posting those words, my muse finally clued me in on the ending. And just like always, it was right there in front of me the whole time. I mean, seriously, folks–right there in front of me.
How could I have missed it? Am I really that thick?
It’s possible that I just couldn’t see the ending until I had gotten to certain point in the story, that my view was blocked by all the other uncertainties in my way. It’s sort of like mountain climbing: when you’re on the hill itself, you often can’t see the summit until you clear tree line. Well, I’m above tree line now, and there’s the summit, right in front of me. A couple of bits I’m still not sure about, like whether my protagonist lives or dies, but you know–details, baby, details.
This thing likely won’t reach 40K. Somewhere around 35K seems probable.
Stop! Snippet time:
Edwards’s thin face had gone a red so deep it verged on purple. A scowl twisted the features that had been so serene and smug several hours previous. He started speaking before he got even halfway to the cell: "What the hell is your game, Burleson? Talk!"
Wayne took a step back, confused. He’d expected just the guards. That Edwards had stooped to visiting the basement told Wayne that something had gone seriously wrong.
"I don’t know what you’re talking about, Colonel."
Edwards reached the cell, jabbed a finger in Wayne’s direction. "Don’t play that crap with me, Burleson, or by God, I’ll have you gunned down where you stand."
"Colonel, I swear don’t know–"
Edwards turned to the guards. "Shoot him. Right now."
Silence fell. The guards goggled.
"Are you deaf, or just insubordinate?" Edwards said. "I just gave you an order. Or do I have to do everything around here myself?"
Wide-eyed, the guards fumbled for their weapons.
Write Club updates:
Tier one rejection from an agent on a novel query, and a tier one bounce from Daily Science Fiction. Response time on the latter, 11 days.
Back to the climb . . .
