Novel Stats

Uncanny

Today’s Word Count: 939 words, 39.8k total

Excerpt:
Torture. Though now that he was older—wiser—that word didn’t carry the same import that it used to. He had learned to see good between those letters, to look through that dangerous, barbed fence and see the fertile gardens beyond. But, to his surprise, Chris’ plea had pricked him–and that wound, long thought to have been scabbed over, began to bleed again.

“Yes,” he said finally. “They do seem to scream a bit.” He gently lifted Chris’ arm from his and sat down in his chair. It squeaked pleasingly—a warm and familiar greeting. “Okay, Chris. You talk to him.”

Things are going well. Mashed up a lot of old scenes with new stuff, thus the inflated word count. Writing a story does get kind of fun from time to time, doesn’t it?

I'm in the process of moving this blog to wordpress, which is just so much cooler than blogger. I'll let you know the new address--in due time (not that anyone is actually reading this, mind you).

Onward!

Novel Stats

Today's Word Count: 392 words, 37.7k total

Excerpt:
Dr. Weiss sat without moving in his dimly lighted office. Actually, this was his secondary office; what he liked to call his “war room.” There was the office above ground, the one with the books and the expensive chairs and the impressive bay windows staring off into the plains. But he used it only rarely. Whenever he had to make an appearance, he would send the cleaning crew up first. That way, he wouldn’t have to blow the dust off his chair before he sat down.

I've been messing around with Wordpress, another blog solution. Maybe I'll switch. It has been pretty cool so far. Lots of customizability (is that a word? MS Word said it was, but Firefox's built in spell checker says it isn't). We Americans like that.

Onward!

Novel Stats

Uncanny

Today's Word Count: 559 words, 37.2k total

Excerpt:
Daniel stared at him, open-mouthed. What had he felt that day, that moment, when the blows were coming down as from the fists of the gods? Though everything else was a vague blur, like looking through a rain-streaked window, that day remained startlingly fresh and clear. The dust filling his nose as he lay on the ground; the glass from the scale’s shattered face falling like rain upon him.

Moving right along. Speaking of moving: March 10th is the date of our fateful departure from Grass Valley, our home for the last two years, to Sebastopol. Grass Valley saw fit to give us a nice sendoff: a few good days of snow. I enjoy snow very much--as long as it melts after a few days.
Onward!