Our Mayor

Welcome to Matthew S. Rotundo's home page. Matt is an award-winning writer of science fiction, fantasy, and horror. Read more about him here.

The Pixeltown Dispatch
Sign up here to be notified about new releases and other news of interest from Matthew S. Rotundo. Your email address will never be shared and you can unsubscribe at any time.

Satellite Offices
The Rotundo World Tour

2017

ConStellation 8
Lincoln, NE
April 28-30

MileHiCon 49
Denver, CO
October 27-29

Watch this space for updates!

Archive for July 6th, 2011

Progress Report, in which I fudge the numbers

Running late with this progress report, obviously.  Blame it on America’s birthday.

Difficult to gauge last week’s progress, as I embarked on the new final chapter of From Earth I Have Arisen, then scrapped what I had done and went in a different direction.  So if memory serves, I’m now on the third different ending I’ve tried for this thing, and the word count is . . . well, a little tricky to determine.  Officially, it’s something like 4400 words, but with all the back and forth, even that number is a bit fudged.  Anyway, Magic Meter looks like this now:

So it seems this ending is proving to be as much fun as I thought it would be–which is to say, not at all.  But I think I might finally be on the right track.

For your snippet, a bit of characterization that I hadn’t even realized until the moment I wrote it:

"Again, if you think I’m lying, you should shoot me."

Silence descended on the room. The only sound came from outside, the swelling rumble of the gathering crowd.

His bravado collapsed with shocking suddenness. A deep sadness swept Captain Black Eagle. That his beloved America had sunk so low. No wonder good people like Serena had given up. He’d been flying above it all for too long to see it, to feel it.

Perhaps even Robin had gotten it wrong. Perhaps delusions of grandeur had never entered into it. Maybe Captain Black Eagle himself was simply a kind of denial, a retreat from the unpleasant reality his world had become.

With one hand, he reached behind him and undid his mask, let it fall away from his face. Wayne Burleson faced his captors, his eyes stinging with repressed tears. Gendron reared back a little, as if Wayne had raised a hand to him. The one standing at the door gasped. The two standing behind him came around to see. Even the woman who had turned away looked.

Well, I thought it was cool, anyway.

No updates for Write Club.

Laterz.