And speaking of the 1st, return here for the new PROTOTYPE raffle. It begins at midnight.
All right. Updates, which is really the singular update. I opened one a few times but came up empty for the most part. I might have typed a few words and beefed up the text, but it's hardly worth mentioning. The other novel, on the other hand... I must have beat my own record last Sunday. I added just a little over 4K to it. I ended up completely empty of creativity the next day, but I couldn't even bring myself to care. I've since added another 2-3K or so after beefing up every scene from page 1 on, and have some really great things going on.
Here are the current word counts.
Adult SciFi: 18,189. A whole 3 words difference. Shameful, I know.
YA SciFi: 21,392! 14,704 last week, yo. I have officially reached the end of the first plot point, and I'm staring down that long, long, long middle. BUT, I'm okay, because I also have my plot board and all the plans laid out. I've never felt so at ease while staring down the beast of the dragging middle.
The jostling truck makes my body sway. With my eyes closed, head brushing the headrest, I almost believe this is normal. The act of stealing what doesn’t belong to me. There’s a sort of peace in that, even though, deep down, I know how wrong it is. No matter the reasons, I’m still trying to acclimate to who I’ve become in the mirror. Behind the barrier of my eyelids, Former Me skips in bright-colored dresses and wears pigtails. She laughs at stupid things and dreams of stupider things. Then in storms Present Me with her black clothes and black boots and black heart, tainted and resentful and brimming in real-world truth. Life is an inflexible game of take and take some more, and hope is a waste of precious resources.