Quick post before I run back to work!

Here is the Wordle of Karma Police, which I think broke 120k last night. (I'm so worried about the fact that "like" made it into the wordle. I AM ENTIRELY COVERED IN SHAME.)

No, that word count is not a good thing, but at least I'm not breaking 200k yet, which is where I was with Expendables. Yay Epics?

I have now reached the happy place where I both hate and love this book with a kind of weary passion. We've been together for almost two years, and it keeps trying to get away. But I am still too stubborn for that. ^_^

Have an excerpt. Sorry about the language, Ewan is, just that way.

Adam had left the lamp on. It shone away in the corner of the room, right in the corner of his eye. Ewan considered throwing a pillow at it to stop the stupid hateful light, but decided burning to death in the inevitable fire wasn’t worth it. He got up and turned the thing off, and then someone knocked on the door. He yanked it open. “What now?!” He growled at the person on the other side.

The person on the other side was not Adam. Ethan and a short, curly haired girl were standing there arm in arm, a little wide-eyed. He cleared his throat. “H-hi, Ewan. Up for a stroll?”

Ewan reflected that maybe he should have kept his shirt on before he went to sleep, but how was he supposed to know Ethan was gonna take his girls calling? “No.” He said shortly, crossing his arms. “Who’s your new lady friend?” He looked her over, taking stock of the mittens on strings, the scarf striped and pompomed in five colours, and the knitted hat with a pattern of happy sheep. “What is she, twelve?”

She glared at him under her eyebrows. “I’m fifteen.”

“Good job.” Ewan nodded, then looked at Ethan. “She’s fifteen. Is that even legal?”

“This is Islay.” Ethan said tightly. “Islay, Ewan, Ewan, Islay. We’re all friends here, and we’re all legal. Right?”

Ewan looked at him, eyes half-closed. “Why are you here?”

“To visit my only friends in town, and to take a walk.” Ethan was somewhat standing in front of his girl now. He grinned. A very believable grin, as usual. “Islay knows all the nice places, and last time we talked, it looked like you weren’t getting out enough. Coming out? We can wait.”

And now the fifteen year old semi-nerd was telling him what to do- again. Ewan flipped him the finger. “Like hell.”

Right now plotting feels like trying to solve this.

(Have I mentioned I'm no good at Rubix cubes?)

You know that part where you grimly hate your story, you seem to do nothing except stare at a word doc (Okay, pages document) and everything that drivels out of your brain is basically brain-mush? (FUNNY, THAT.) Yep, I'm here. Me and Karma Police, we're here.

*repeated banging of head against table*

WHYYYYYYYYYYYYY DID I EVER THINK THIS WAS A GOOD STORY? WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY????????????????????

Fortunately, none of my alpha readers seem to actually be reading the story. So I chortle madly over my computer and make extravagant promises to myself to fix it before they reach it. It'll be GOOD, see? Only far, far in to the future. FARRRRRR into the future. Hehehe. Maybe when I'm old and gray and have fourteen cats, a fragile plant and a ferret. Then it'll be done and I can let it out into the world again. Hehehehe.

Seriously though. When I'm planning a story? I REALLY need to keep it more cheerful. Anytime I decide I need to add comic relief by throwing in a teenage marriage, things are going wrooooooong. Also, lol unintentional sketch. You'd think by marrying a guy off things would be less prone to awkwardness? No, that only counts when the character is not as GIFTED with awkwardness as mine are. It's a gift, really.

And I got Hex Hall and War Of the Flowers and Nova War and Hundred Thousand Kingdoms in the mail today, along with others, and I really really want to hole up with them and some tea and never come out no more. But I'm not allowed until this draft is done.

My life is AAAAAAAAAGONYYYYYYYYYY. *abject weeping*

Excuse for my absence?

Eowyn wins at life.


Ahem. I just had to put that up there. ^_^


Despite what it may appear on the internet, I have not forgotten about this blog. I have merely been WRITING.


Er, attempting to write. See, 25% of the workforce at my place of employment has been off sick, so I've been upgraded from part time to almost full time. Which I'm not entirely used to, and also I've been trying to finish the first draft of Karma Police by the end of the month. That appears to be a hope as realistic as the one that says that I'm going to get up at six in the morning, but it's not the end of the month yet, so I still retain it.

So yes. That's my excuse. :D I will have MANY reviews and maybe even some excerpts for you! Later. Maybe next month?

(Or whenever I get tired of staring at a blank word doc and retreat to the internet.)

My shining dishonesty will be the salvation of me.

Dearly Beloved, I am beat out.

I wrote 1687 words today, of which all are trash and more are insane. I have completely lost my grip on grammar, and music only goes so far to keep my brain inside my veins.

I should not have tried to read Wintergirls. That was a mistake, and my internal organs have not commenced feeling calm again. In other news, I have to wear long sleeves to work because I keep doodling ink on my arms, and that is not "professional." (Seemingly there are such things as "appearances" to keep up. Who knew?)

But in writing news, I fear greatly my end-of-march deadline. Today- people lied and Nanami saw. (Or did she?) All that research about prisons, and it came to naught.

World-building revelation of the hour- phones are electric. DARN IT. So is the internal combustion engine, and radios. So I'm thinking of a nice way to use some electrics but not alls? Or perhaps I'll just leave that for times when I am less insane. Ah-hah.

Upcoming events- Ewan defines his insults, Adam is rejected and therefore despairs, Laura is calm and probably cuddling ensues, and Ethan goes dancing. Or maybe I'll just nuke the world. NO WEDDINGS FOR YOUSE. ALL DEATH.

Oh Midas-in-a-bottle-for-drinkable-end, I need to sleep. If anyone can make sense of what I wrote today- they should probably be committed.

I really need to rename Ethan. Does anyone have any ideas?

"Who is the love and who is the knife."

Word count: 1,593

Overall: I'm kinda stuck between hating PASSIONATELY what I'm writing now, and being struck by the glory of how much better it'll be when I rewrite. And granted, that will probably be my attitude when I'm re-writing. (oh, this will be so much better next time!) but it helps to make me feel pleasantly schizophrenic.

Today: Ethan still has a lock on being cute, Mister Theyneker is uncaring about you or your pain, and Islay is cuter. Also, Laura is a woman of steel.

Upcoming: Ewan throws up (yay!) Adam questions his faith cause girls don't like him, and Ethan finds that he doesn't like newspapers.

This is your mind calling. You have no idea what you're doing, do you?

I found this outline in my files the other day. I think it's for Karma Police, but I still have no idea what it's supposed to be talking about. I thought I'd share the logic. :P

Plot outline

1. recruitment
2. terrorist?
3. built tension and discovery with the life stuff in this world
4. DISCOVERY?
5. capture is love
6. indépendant assignements
7. (also they have to get the kids out of the claws of the unholiness while they arrest people)
8. discovery of evil girl
9. get her out
10. we've got friends
11. (they were watched, they know this)
12. (how watching? Explain)
13. go to the unholiness
14. get her out
15. (figure out how)
16. reveal that they've been being used?
17. I weep for us all

SCRATCH THAT
Moving on.

Sorry for the extremely erratic updates lately.

I have no real excuse other than my inherent fail. Which I use as an excuse whenever possible. :D

Anyhow, I wrote today. *is proud*

I love it so much when things work out! It just makes me happy inside. In fact, I want to write much more, but I keep having to pick my head up off the keyboard. Ahem. Now if I can just sustain this love for writing for tomorrow...

Stats;

• Words: 2309.
• Scenes. 1. Hehehe. You thought I did more? No. No dice, I'm not feeling the seduction yet. 
• Thoughts. Ewan is silly and has a little brother, I now know. Hurrah for discoveries. Also, I get to use glowing mushrooms and my unholy trio! Delight!

Here, it's been too long since you had an excerpt. Have one. ^_^

“That was a nice thing you did for Morgan.”

He flinched. The stupid girl was still in the room. Okay, maybe not so stupid- she had given him food- but he still didn’t like her presence. “Wha?” He sneaked a sidelong glance at Janet, still sitting on the table, still looking dangerous. Not dangerous in a hey-here’s-a-girl way, but in a hey-here’s-a-girl-who-knows-how-to-use-sharp-things-and-isn’t-scared-of-heights-oh-god-i’m-so-dead kind of way.

She raised her eyebrows. “Jumping into a fight for him?”

So that was where he’d known the boy. The train had stopped at a pathetic excuse for a station by an aerofield, and he’d gotten off in search of some beer or other food. There’d been a fight going on, he’d gone over to look at it, and found it was five farm boys beating the snot out of a little red-haired boy. He’d taken a swing at the largest blonde with the brains of an ox and the muscles to match, and ended up with his leather jacket- and billfold- gone for his pains. He’d even almost missed the train. Ewan grunted in answer.

“Why’d you do it?” She’d taken a little knife with a white blade from the kitchen counter, and was trimming her nails with it. “S’not like you’re a nice person, just serving justice or someat.”

Ewan showed his teeth in an almost mirthful grin. “Maybe I just like a fight?” Funnily enough, he got the impression that she didn’t mean “not a nice person” as an insult, exactly. Or maybe that was just hope that she wouldn’t cut off his fingers right here and leave him to bleed out.

“Probably.” She stood up. “No fighting here, or I’ll have to pull those rings out of your face.”

Ewan raised eyebrows ornamented with the rings in question. “Do you always resort to threats to get your way?”

Janet laughed cheerfully and dropped the knife into the sink. It made a sharp chink as it hit. “No, usually people just do what I say. I have to explain m’self and what’ll happen cause you’re new an daft. Come on, greenie, got to get the mail aboard.”

Oh, the glory that is writing death scenes for Lent

3193 words written today. I guess it wasn't as much fail as I thought!

Best quote of the day;

STUPID PACING IS STUPID ‘SCUSE ME PLEASE WHILE I KILL MYSELF MESSILY WITH THIS PAPERCLIP.

In which I start to suspect I have developed an addiction to CAPSLOCK.

I know I've been bad with the blogging lately. I"M SORRY. I fail at life. 

*humbly bows head*

My excuse is that I have been WRITING. I know, I can hear the shock in your voices. But I have! It's a true story! I finished part one of Karma Police- which sucked. But I did figure out how to break Adam! Which makes me happy, as always. *is happy*

And now I'm onto writing part two of KP, which makes me curse the fact I thought it would be a good idea to write in five POVs, including five keening stories, for most of the part 2. I curse myself SO HARD! (Oh, the follies of youth under the influence of Nano- I mourn.)

But yes, writing. (Not that I'm avoiding writing by posting on a blog, Nooooooo! Surely you jest!) Also I have been reading at least six books! I preen in the awesomeness of my reading majesty. *poses* And I went through a lot of stuffs at work, procedural FUN and all that funky stuff. And also I discovered Mass Effect 2. *cough cough cough*

The story is pretty, what can I say? I heart Jack! Though I do wish that shirt was larger... (If you've seen-played it, Please God you know what I mean.)

What else do I have in the line of random factoids? Oh yes, ME2 and a wicked awesome character in KP has made me realize that I seem to have a seemingly endless supply of wickedly amused, heavily tattooed, totally badass and possibly untrustworthy female characters. Some are a bit more deadly or adorable than others, but so far the well of AWESOME has not run dry. Not that those characters ever tell me a profane thing about what they're doing with my other charas or the plot, but I shouldn't ask for TOO much, should I?

Oh, Oh, Oh! Also I won a copy of Flash Burnout! SQUEE! 

Back to the grindstone, I need to hire Ewan and imperil Laura. *stumbles away, smiling dangerously*

"All the right friends, in all the right places, so yeah, we're going down."

It's entirely possible that you've seen this already on Bahnree's blog, since we share most of our readership. ^_^ But I have to share it anyhow.

Is it not PRETTY? And doesn't the lead singer look like Wash? Admit it, he totally does. *takes a moment to heart Wash*

And I need a masked ball with electric organ in my book. NOW. I DEMAND masked ball. With spies and pick pockets and glowing instrumentation, and possibly assassination/assignation. I am not sure how this all works out, but it's finally unstuck the damned block in my plot.

I think I've decided moral ambiguity is lame, and the bad guys are bad. Probably. Or maybe this will show that my good guys are the bad guys. IS COMPLICATED. Anyhow, there are masks and reveals and begging, so it's all better now.

If you've read the above ranting, I salute you. You clearly need some serious therapy. Watch the pretty video again, you'll feel better. There are dancers!

"You manage to fit sketch into the least hot situations."

This verdict after a friend read Expendables makes me proud. It probably shouldn't, but I cling to my small gifts, such as turning a hospital cafeteria into a situation for unintentional inappropriateness. Although, given that this was Sarti "showing off her scars" unintentional isn't exactly the right term. ANYHOW.

How's the writing coming, I hear you all ask? *deludes self that there is an attentive audience waiting to hear the response.* Well, my myriad loyal minions, it's not really coming along. I wrote one and a half two pages today! *preens*

*slumps*

That may or may not have been the first writing since Nano... *fiddles with fingers* But in other news, a family friend who is a youth paster and my grandmother both offered to proof read. I beg you for advice. What does one do in that situation? I'm not sure if my writing is grandmother-friendly!

And okay, my lack of sanity is becoming Obvious to all and sundry. Sundry being work mates. I'm rather out of it this week, for reasons including but not limited to;

1. lack of sleep
2. Family things out of anyone's control
3. and mostly- SHINY BOOKS. (You spend enough time in other worlds, the one you are writing just looks, strange and inadequate.)

Why yes, I am blaming Melissa Marr for my lack of writing. *glowers* It's totally your fault, you and your worlds. And Sarah Rees Breenan, with your enticing blog! Totally not my fault that my, characters, have been left in limbo...

*regards characters, who glower ominously*

*Ewan grins unpleasantly, while Laura loads gun*

I may have made a tactical error. And now they're telling me off for blogging instead of writing. I SHALL LEAVE NOW.

(this is in the running for the worst blog entry of all time. I should make a list- later)

"Let that city take you in, let that city spit you out, let that city take you down.."

So, I was going to write, wasn't I? HAHAHAH. *cough* Or read books.

Instead I read six years of Least I Could Do, which is a highly hilarious and highly inappropriate web comic. And by "inappropriate," I mean you shouldn't read it if you are under the age of consent in your country. Or if there are small people who might look over your shoulder. (sample from ages ago)

Right, so I asked a question, a while ago. And to my eternal delight, I got answers. *pets silky lovely answers* Unfortunately the answers were pretty much split down the middle. *cough* So it was left up to me to decide what to do with my INFINITE CONUNDRUM. Perhaps I shouldn't be trying to blog with these holes in my brain. Perhaps I should eat more butter toffee. Mmmm, Butter toffee.

Er, what was I saying? Oh yes, infinite conundrum. (I really like that phrase. Perhaps I should steal it from myself.) I decided to keep writing with my fractured timeline, and go back and write later.

This is for two reasons.

1. I actually don't know how to re-write, never having done that. Or edit. Those are whole new skill sets, which will cause much weeping and possible ritual suicide. *happy smile*
2. This may sound absurd, but I don't, actually, uh, feel at home in the setting of the first part of the story. This is because it's a, uh, high school. Before you laugh me out of town, know that I was home schooled! I have never been inside a high school during school hours, and it's such tacit knowledge for, like everybody, that it makes me nervous to bluff. So I need to research High Schools. *hides in shame* And honestly, it's more fun to research WWI class structure for the NEXT bit! *beams distractingly from hiding*

So that's that. I will write this weekend, I promise. And now a question, that I think sounded very fun! :D

If I came with a warning label, what would it say?

"Soon I'll be out of my mind, and you'll be out of ideas..."

So I was going to dance class today, thinking about plastic. What, you mean you don't do that? Surely you jest! You lie! *cough* But here's the thing. I'm doing a steampunk world in Karma Police, and there's a floating town in the ocean. (Which makes me happy inside, btw.) And because I'm just like that, I need to know why it's there, and how it's there. My first thought was, of course, plastic floats! Then I went, uh, wait just one second here, plastic? In steampunk? That doesn't really sound right, not for the amounts I'd need to float a town...

I will spare the the rest of the stream-of-conciousness wherein I thought about rivets and Kipling, Star Trek, gears, the American Civil War, greasing methods and child labour and submarines and Kipling again and mining and ice caps and fishing and- I'm telling you about it. Anyhow, wow, I love my little town, and I can almost smell it, I know how it works so well. While thinking about this, I realized that the piece of tech that I'm starting out Karma Police with, does not jive with the rest of the story. (If you're read it, you know what I mean when I say "Harbour Tree." If you haven't read it, I'm sorry you missed the benefits of my insanity.) It was semi-organic, and everything else I'm writing is mechanically minded.

This made me sad, because I loved that harbour tree. HOWEVER, before I became too broken-hearted, I realized it actually belongs in my Medusa/Fire/Fantasy/SF/Pick One/War/Children/blindness/SO MUCH SHINY story that keeps hovering behind my head dropping maddening hints. So I squeed over that revelation and nearly walked into the barre at dance. I had everything plot-wise figured out and it was wonderful!

This lasted about ten minutes, till we were talking about costumes. This was when I realized that my plot order for Karma Police is all backwards and knotted, and I narrowly kept from beating my head off the floor.

You see, my plan was to start writing with a big event, throw in some flashbacks to explain why they were there, have a big realization, and then End triumphantly at 50,001 words. That- did not work. I'm currently halfway through the flashbacks, and halfway through the strange little plotlines that insisted on appearing between the Big Event and the Big Realization. One of those is the floating town, actually. *takes a moment to love floating town* My realization was that my story actually is in three parts.

1. The flashbacks.
2. The Big Event and the cunning plotlines.
3. The Big Realization and outfall.

Also, the cunning plotlines are supposed to help with the Big Realization, and I need to research metal working, specifically Ship Building, Zeppelin Design, Hydrogen safety, turn of the century Prisons, Rebellions and Guerilla Warfare, Class Structure, High Schools, Bank Security, Catholic rites for the almost-dead, oh, and gas mining. That's what I know about now, more will undoubtedly come later.

Remind me again why I ever thought that writing fantasy would be easier than "real world?"

Anyhow. As riveting as I'm sure you found that, I actually have a question for you, my lovely readers! (I know you're out there, I check my stats occasionally, and some of you even comment. Shocking, I know.) Here it is.

Should I go back now and write out the flashbacks that have revealed themselves to be Part 1, or should I fight on to the end before re-writing?

Part of my brain is saying Never Go Back!!! Resist the urge to edit! Resist! RESIST!!!!!

And part of my brain is saying Wait, you don't even know why your characters are doing things! Go back, figure out what you're exiling doing, THEN continue.

I'm not sure which plan is better, so there is the question of the hour.

What do YOU think?

NaNoWrapO

I need to stay away from "clever" titles. This is clear. But I'm going to let that one stay, for teh lolz. *cough* It's time for the tradition, the wonder, that is Nano Wrap-up! WHOOOOO

(I just washed two hours of dishes and now have tea, can you tell?)

I'll start with a shout-out to my characters. *beams*

• Adam - It just gets worse. I'm sorry. But you're so FUN to break. *cough* I'm sorry about the girls. And the torture. But really, it wasn't THAT bad...
• Nanami - You'll feel better later. I'm sorry. I really am sorry, but sometimes the only way is to break and re-form. You had shiny travels?
• Laura - I didn't want to like you, but I do... You haz mad skillz, woman. I don't want to know what they are, but still. Props to you.
• Ewan - Heh. Heh. Don't look at me like that! You KNOW you asked for it. You just attract violence! I uh, don't know what's going to happen to you. I think fights are gonna be involved. Aren't you HAPPY? Don't use language like that around me, young man. You love it, I know.
• Ethan - You're a jerk. Too bad I keep liking you! Stupid dis-loyal jerkface pretty boy. *growls* I'm gonna make you PAY.
• Mr. Theyneker - Stay away. Seriously. You scare me. Seriously. AWAY. I mean it. *hides behind anything large and locked*
• Amelie - *salutes* You were random and I like you. I like your back story. I like your distain. I like that I'm never going to see you again, Lord Willing.
• Dijimon - Jerk. Go away.
• Claude - You're a random pretty boy who keeps morphing roles and I named you to annoy a fictional characters, what can I say? I'm going to make you fail, soon. Enjoy your life.
• Katie - Hi, you're pretty. Let's break Adam together.
• The Duke - I will find a way to involve you later, Fop. I WILL.
• Islay - You're sweet, and awesome! I'm sorry I'm using you. Er, have a new pair of shoes?
• Sidney - You are still my favourite bit characters. I'm gonna bring you back. ANd then the Bad Girls can fight to see who you are married too, cause you're awesome. *hugs* I'm sorry about the whole prison thing.
• Mrs. Swallow - I'm sorry about your son. You're lovely. I really, really am sorry. *cringes*
• Hana - You're WAYYY to perky. Go perk over there kthnxbai.
• My Bad Girls - I less than three you all. I'm sorry about the whole prison thing. I'm gonna get you out? GJ with the torture and kidnapping and all. I promise it'll be better in the edit, too.
• The Train People - I thought you were my favourite bit people. Then I realized that you're actually another novel. Someday...
• Jim - I'm not sure yet if you're a good guy or you just killed a bunch of kids. But you're pretty. Um. *unsure* I'm sorry the flirting lines I gave you were so lame. I'm sure you're MUCH smoother than that.

I think that's everybody! Aren't they wonderful, and doesn't my story sound cheerful?

Now to go over what was actually accomplished. (And what I learned)

1. I wrote 66,690 words on a story that doesn't show any signs of stopping any time soon. There is srysly a LOT that has to be revealed and dealt with. *I take a moment to weep* (My plots are weeds. They grow in directions I don't want them too, take root in strange places, and Do. Not. Die. Also I'm wordy.)
2. The story started as a fantasy which was shiny and full of teenage fun, and it became, well, steampunk featuring betrayal, deception, and death. I mean, if you start with your MCs being terrorists, there are only so many ways it can go. (I'm pretty sure that I'm still writing YA, but I have a potential to get dark. You want hope? You're going to have to WORK for hope. Also, teenagers are so flexible for one reason only- to heal faster after they've been broken. There will be breakage.)
3. I tried to keep continuity, and keep plotlines under control. I failed. (WRITE A DETAILED OUTLINE AND KNOW WHAT YOUR EVER-LOVEING PLOT IS. I AM NOT EVEN JOKING, SELF.)
4. I realized today that I came up with most of this plot a.) when a family member was moved to palliative care b.) while waiting around the hospital for this person to die, and c.) while being attacked by normal life after the death. (When in a setting like this, you will think your plots will be nice and light and frothy. They won't be. You'll do things like putting a main character on death row for a murder they didn't commit- for the sake of character development- and seriously consider not getting them off- and think it's just normal and cheerful teen drama. Be Aware Of Your Mental State When Plotting. Also, what was up with the invisible kids that I cut on the first day? Srysly, brain, sleep is good for you.)
5. After, I think it was 18 days straight, I burned out, and needed to take a break. This felt awful, but I did write better after taking a day off! (Writing is wonderful, we know this. I still need to give my mind time to catch up and develop sub-plots that make any kind of sense.)
6. And finally- After much non-production in the final days of nano, I turned off my internet for six hours and wrote over 5 thousand words. (I am easily distracted, I shouldn't try to stay on twitter, facebook, chat and blogs- and write at the same time. It will not work.)

There you have it! My profound wrap-up. Now if you'll excuse me, my family hasn't seen me in a month.

Done.

"I remember black skies, the lightening all around me..."

Song of the day!

Also this one. *cough*

In terms of writing, my little sisters today both realized that they had improperly backed up their YWP novels. So they were both down to about a thousand words apiece, and had until tomorrow midnight to get their handwritten pages up to a word count of 8k. Tears were shed, especially since they are both at the hunt-and-peck stage. So myself, my mom and my 18 year old sister stepped in to type for them. Which is my excuse for my wordcount. :D Isn't family jolly?

Wordcount;

• Daily: 2,129
• Overall: 65,682

Today I broke Nanami- again. Poor girl doesn't know how much she still has to lose. ^_^

ALSO, Stephanie Perkins gave me *63,588 GIANT GOLD GLITTERY STARS.* I am awesome. I'm so awesome.

"...they were going to the church to be married, he was pressed and sent on sea..."

Yes, I'm still listening to The Once.

I listen to traditional music, and I'm PROUD.

*cough*

Also, my brain LEFT me today, so my objective is to make it to 70k. Since today was a fail. *nods*

Wordcount:

• Daily: 1,942
• Overall: 63,558

ONLY TWO DAYS LEFT OH MY HYPERVENTILATION.

"GOT IT?" "Yes Sir!" "I"M A WOMAN." "Yes MISTRESS!" "That'll do."

Today, I turned off my internet for six hours. No one I wanted to talk to was online anyhow, so I'd only be distracting myself with bad reasons. And in four hours of "writing" I'd managed 147 words. So hey, what did I have to loose?

This is what it looked like.

*I turn off wireless and promptly hyperventilate*

*drinks tea, feels better*

*writes*

*And writes*

*drinks coffee*

*and writes*

*drinks grape and tonic*

*wonders why she is drinking something that tastes like cough syrup*

*writes instead*

Exciting, I know. But i'd forgotten what that feels like, and now I'm a bit blurry around the edges. YAY??? (Also, I watched what I was writing go steadily more and more sketchy. BUT IS STILL YA!)

The final damage done was; *drumroll please*

Wordcount;

• Daily: 5,498
• Overall: 61,623

WHICH MEANS I GET TO MAKE A NEW WORDLE.

Have an Adam Excerpt!

On the whole, he really did not mind this mode of travel. True, it was strange, and you never knew when you would be expected to wear a mask to dinner, (thank goodness the Duke had mentioned that to him,) or get stuck in a washroom where all the doors looked like walls. These things notwithstanding, though, he kind of liked it. If only he had someone to share it with, that was the only real issue. And, to be honest, that was hardly the the fault of the Zeppelin. He smiled ruefully out the window, and looked down to find a new plate featuring spiced pork loin, garlic mashed potatoes and mixed vegetables. The good points about this assignment really did outweigh the bad points.

“Hello, buddy!” Adam nearly choked on a bite of pork as the Duke’s hand descended on his back. “Have you met Melinda?”

Adam swallowed as quickly as possible as he stood up. He cleared his throat. “No, I have not had that honour.” Which one was Melinda? The Duke had two quite beautiful black women accompanying him. They smiled behind gloves of coloured satin as he bowed.

The Duke grinned. “You need to get out more, Hewitt!” He kissed the cheek of the woman in blue and silver next to him. She raised her eyebrows at him, then rippled a small laughed. Adam did a quick ring-check, and relaxed internally. Both she and the Duke were wearing single bands on their left ring fingers, so that was all right. With the high heeled shoes that showed off her toes, and hair pinned artfully high on her head, she was taller than the Duke. The Duke blinked one eye, then the other, and grinned at Adam again. “Mind if we join you?”

“No, not at all.” The waiters had already brought over another table, and were adding a second place setting. Adam held out a chair for the other woman, who was also over six feet tall in her shoes, and dressed in green and copper, sans ring. She sat down gracefully, and smiled at him. It was a rather wonderful smile, to be honest. Adam sat down and sipped his soda water with lime as the Duke, Melinda and her nameless friend ate their soup and salad.

“Katie hasn’t been feeling well, sadly.” Melinda grinned across the table, then covered her smile with a hand and a cough. She looked seriously at Adam. “My sister catches flus with shocking regularity, it’s quite sad. Almost monthly.”

So they were sisters? “I’m, sorry. That sounds unfortunate.” The Duke found this funny, judging by the grin directed at his sorbet. Adam wondered why. Monthly sickness sounded terrible- oh. Oh. He turned red, which made everyone laugh, not unkindly.

“Is is unfortunate.” Katie twinkled. “But I’m over it now, and ready to meet these fascinating new people my sister has told me so much about.”

But, the duke and Melinda obviously knew each other, and they were wearing rings, which had to mean- she was talking about him. Adam cleared his throat. “The feeling is mutual, Miss.” He turned red again. “I mean, without the monthly sickness, but maybe...” He gave up and joined in the round of laughter. “I’m pleased to meet you, Miss, how is that?” He offered her his hand.

Katie smiled as she shook it. “Better. And call me Katie.”

“Adam.” He found he was still holding her hand, unexpectedly, so he kissed it. She smiled slowly and covered the expression with her other hand.

Kthnxbai.

"And kids, always remember to write safe."

Wordcount;

• Daily: 1,258
• Overall: 56,146

I seem to be marvellously on track to enjoy a wonderful 25k-in-three-days weekend if I want to hit my goal. Yay?

Also, I had to ask a lot of questions about making out. (Thank you, you know who you are) Srysly, where do people put their arms? Arms are LONG, people, and they bend in limited places. And don't you get neck cramps? Teenagers are silly. ^_^

"I have a book!" "Wait? What do you mean! Explain!" "well Jen, when a writer and a story love each other very much....."

So I was rummaging around to find my plot-bunny file, and I found the original one that I wrote down for Karma Police. This amused me greatly, so I decided to share. I'm generous like that.

-Karma Police

-unpleasant teenagers

-betrayal?

-fantasy/dark green

-Honour belief-lost-fight-do they stick together?

-Everybody dies?

-Fog

AND as you may have noticed from my rummaging, writing was a little- not so much. (I'm so glad no one expects coherency from me on this blog. It makes me smile)

Wordcount:

• Daily: 1,221
• Overall: 54,712

Srysly, that is the level of my fail. ^_^ IN OTHER NEWS, Adam is trying to be a prat. He's trying HARD. And Ewan makes me happy. Here, have a Ewan-Excerpt.

Some whiny kid at the front of the car kept whining, and whining, and whining. Ewan tried to pull his hat over his eyes. It fell off onto the floor, He got off his chair to reach for it. It had rolled under the seat. Ewan reached for it, and stabbed his finger on a tack sticking out of the seat. “Mage.” Ewan made this sound so angry that the small girl two seats back decided to shock her friends with her horrible new curse word as soon as she got home.

Ewan sat back in his seat and stared out the window, sucking his bleeding finger. This day could end at any time, and that would be fine with him. He checked the clock at the front of the car and groaned. Only mid-afternoon? A whole day on the train, and a whole night- with a freakishly loud snoring man next to him- and now this day. Was there no mercy in the world? Clearly not. At least they were in city limits now. He decided to go get a drink. Ewan unfolded himself from the seat and made his way to the front of the car, where there was a machine that dispensed canned drinks. He braced himself against the door and the wall and fished some coins out of his pocket. The beer was bound to be warm, but it’d be better than nothing.

The machine rumbled internally and stuck. Ewan fell against it as the train went around the corner. The machine made an ominous clunking noise and vomited forth two beers. Score! He scooped them up and turned around with a grin.

The grin froze in place when presented with his new arch-enemy, the steward. The skinny bitch’s expression was faintly gloating. “You can’t drink those here.”

“Say What?” He glared.

He held out his hand. “You can’t drink those in a public space. There are kids here.”

Ewan stared at him. “Why are they for sale in a damn public space then?”

The man shrugged. “I don’t make the rules, sorry.” He snapped his fingers. Ewan hadn’t seen someone so clearly not-sorry for quite a long time. He knew the type, though. The censored steward wanted him to beg- acknowledge his position. And then if he did, it was about fifty-fifty if the moron with pin stripes on his soul would give the drinks back. Ewan handed him the beers wordlessly and started back towards his seat.

Behind his back, there was a popping noise as the steward cracked one of the beers. Ewan’s shoulders went up, but he kept walking, If the gentleman wanted a fight so much, he’d be damned if he was gonna give him one.

The kid was still whining as he passed. What did he want this time, a hat? Yeah, a hat. Ewan paused in the aisle and glared at the kid till the squirt made eye contact. “How’s it feel to want?” He growled in his most don’t-even-not-today tone.

The boy hiccuped and hid behind his mom. Ewan could feel the steward approach him from behind, radiating disapproval. “Is this boy bothering you, Miss’ess?”

The woman in question, comfortably into middle age and clearly weary of traveling, smiled crookedly. “Why yes, but he seems to have calmed down now, thanks to this young man.” She directed a smile at Ewan, who touched his forehead in return and retreated to his seat, Behind him, he heard the woman continue talking. “Are you allowed to drink on the job?”

Heh. So not everyone on a train was out to get him. Porters, yes. Moms, maybe not. ThereWasTheSignForTheStationHellYes. Ewan was already on his feet and pulling his coat out of the overhead rack. He lined up by the door. The steward was yapping about safety rules- like he cared. Like anyone cared. Ewan was off the train as soon as it was within jumping range of the platform.