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Archive for May, 2014

Progress Report, in which I appreciate your understanding

Um . . . buried in critiques at the moment, gang.  They’re due Friday.  Needless to say, no time for chat.

Thanks for understanding.

 

Current Music: "Stillborn"--Black Label Society

Progress Report, in which I quote Galileo

So my notes for chapter 18 of Apocalypse Pictures Presents read as follows:  “Bad things happen.”

Just so that you know what I was working with, going in.  Which may be part of the reason why I only managed about a thousand words.  Magic Meter moves minutely:

And yet it moves.

Hey, it’s not often I get to work Galileo references into these progress reports.

Anyway, I now have a better idea about those bad things that are supposed to happen in this chapter, so we might reasonably expect more movement soon.

Your snippet:

Multiview seemed to wind down and down forever, though she knew it couldn’t be more than a mile, even with all the switchbacks.  A drop of sweat rolled into one eye, stinging.  She wiped it away, gripped the wheel with both hands.  The way forward was narrow and dark, and demanded that she proceed much more slowly than she would have preferred.  Occasional breaks in the trees afforded glimpses toward the east, but the night was too dark for her to discern any landmarks.  She couldn’t even see the glow of the fires, which she supposed was a good thing.  Perhaps the containment efforts would succeed, after all.

But the possibility only reminded her how little time she had to make her escape.

It would be much simpler to just abandon Gil.  So much of this mess was his fault, after all.

But Wendell’s words back at the house still reverberated within her: We’re no better than the Mouseketeers.

No updates for Write Club.

And so I keep moving on . . .

Current Music: "Hopelessly Human"--Kansas

Progress Report, in which I discuss how I always feel

Some 4500 words later, the rewritten chapter seventeen of Apocalypse Pictures Presents is done, and Magic Meter now looks like this:

Gettin’ there, folks.  I’m really gettin’ there.  Some days I feel like I’ll never be finished with this thing, and some days I . . . no, I pretty much always feel like I’ll never be finished with this thing.

But I’m gettin’ there.  Or so I keep telling myself.

Your snippet:

“No, no,” Pastor said.  “None of that.  The lady’s right, Rodney.  Just open the gate a crack, and let ’em through.”  He faced Susan.  “One condition, though:  you go out, and you don’t come back in.”

“What?” Jazmine’s voice cracked.  “That wasn’t the deal.”

“Ma’am, we never had a deal.  You aren’t one of us.  You infiltrated Hollywood, and then the Hills, and you brought a dangerous young man with you.  Now the Hills are on fire and the Mouseketeers are on their way to take Hollywood from us.”  He swept an arm toward the west, down Sunset Boulevard.  “Hollywood is for Rattlesnakes only.  And right now, we have to take care of our own.  Your best chance is to get as far away from here as you can, and count yourselves lucky.  We don’t get that choice.”

Santiago stepped forward.  “Some of our friends are still in the Hills.  We can’t leave them.”

Susan extended an arm, indicating that Santiago should keep his distance.  She would have enjoyed nothing more than cold-cocking this sanctimonious jackass with all his ma’ams and his aw-shucks country charm, but he was right about at least one thing:  Hollywood was Rattlesnake territory.  Forgetting that fact would only get them shot.

No updates for Write Club.

Onward.  I guess.

Current Music: "Cold"--Black Country Communion