The problem with a vacation that starts on a Wednesday and ends the following Tuesday is that it screws up your routine for two weeks. And make no mistake, folks: I am a creature of routine. Anyway, that’s the excuse I’m using for eking out a mere 1400 words since last we chatted. Magic Meter crawls inexorably on:
On the plus side, my total word count for new fiction in 2011 has officially surpassed 2010’s meager output. Regular readers of this blog might recall how disappointed I was with last year’s production. Though I probably won’t make my goal of 100K new words, I will at the very least wash away the taint of the previous twelvemonth.
Hey, in the writing life, you take your victories where you can find them.
Your snippet for the week:
“Hard day of training?” Gil said.
“Not too bad.”
He sat up a little straighter, leaning forward. “You all right?”
“Fine. Just tired.”
Jazmine cocked a thumb at Gil. “He’s doing movie trivia again.”
Gil pointed at her. “You watch your tone, young lady,” he said, though he smiled as he said it. “This is primo stuff here. Pay attention; you might learn something.”
Jazmine looked away. If Gil noticed, he gave no sign.
That was so like Gil–too wrapped up in his own grand concepts to see that Jazmine was genuinely not in the mood for games. Ever since the night he’d hit upon his mad scheme to infiltrate the backlot, he’d been consumed with rewriting the script. He’d participated in some of the stealth training–Susan had insisted–but he’d been distracted the entire time. And now his enthusiasm blinded him to the crisis brewing right in front of him.
Obsessed, Florence had called him.
No updates for Write Club.
Crawling on . . .
