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Archive for December, 2013

Progress Report, in which Santa Claus eats my homework

So, that upward trend I’ve been touting?  Yeah, the holidays put paid to that.  I did manage to get through chapter five of the Apocalypse Pictures Presents rewrite, which puts Magic Meter here:

To hell with it.  I’m taking a mulligan.  Santa Claus ate my homework.  For realz, people.

For your snippet, a bit of holiday cheer:

Eddie drew a shuddery inhale.  “Jimmie, if I tell you, then you have no reason to keep me alive.”

Jimmie and his men laughed.  “Eddie, don’t you know me any better than that?  Don’t you know that if I want something, I get it?  If you don’t give it to me, right here and now, I’ll have to come up with some new game to play.”  His expression became faraway.  “I’ve heard that boiling oil is fun.  Maybe we could cook you alive, a little bit at a time, while everyone watches.  What do you say?”

To punish me for my slacking, the writing gods bestowed some lumps of coal, aka Write Club updates:  tier two bounces from Lore and Buzzy Mag.  Response times:  32 and 78 days, respectively.

Ho ho ho.  And stuff.

Holiday Cheer, 2013 Edition

Billy and I wish everyone out there happy holidays.

(Yes, it’s Billy Squier.  Because it makes me smile, that’s why.)

Progress Report, in which I get into the spirt of the season

Another 4500 words on the Apocalypse Pictures Presents rewrite.  Magic Meter say:

Still not great, but the trend continues in the right direction.  I’ll take it.  In the spirit of the season, you understand.

A Christmas Eve snippet for you:

Frankie had told Eddie his story while they’d languished there.  Mostly, he’d babbled about how sick he’d been, swear to God.  “I was so weak, man, I couldn’t have done any digging that day.  Seriously.”

“Digging?  What digging?”

Frankie shook his head.  “The tunnel.  You know.  Under the west barricades, at Crescent Heights?”

Eddie had no idea what the guy was talking about, but he knew enough to conceal his surprise.  “The tunnel.  Right.”

Frankie chuckled.  “Fuckin’ Rattlesnakes will never know what hit ’em.  They’ll expect us from the south or the east.  They’ll never see us coming.”

A great deal had become clear to Eddie at that moment.  “Yeah.  It’s gonna be great.”

No updates for Write Club.

Into the teeth of the holidays . . .