On mtd, I can happily say I’ve reached a 1/5th milestone.
I’ve finally, almost 80 pages in, got Jeren and Eremaste into what’s left of MallenIve.
And now we have ghosts. *rubs hands*
I should go do some rewrites on hob now, yes. Hmm. Look at me procrastinating. *spies comic near her desk* Oh look! Season Of Mists! How long has it been since I read that? Catwaxery here I come!!!
Oh bugger. Hob, hob, I haven’t forsaken you, I swear.
Granted, I’m steering clear of the culinary evil that it pobs, but the wee sprogs and The Slave are happy for me to make it. They think it’s a treat. Sick sick people.
Normally Tuesdays and Thursdays are my days to get the house in order and catch up on writing while the sprogs are at their g’anny. Everyone’s sick today though, so they are home and making me laugh so much my cheeks hurt.
Noa is pretending Tanith is an alien monster (not a stretch of the imagination, to be sure, but I digress) and shooting her with a lego harpoon. The dialogue, between tiny tot giggling, is pretty much hysterical.
Noa “No! The alien monster is coming! I must shoot it!”
Tanith *giggles, roars and screeches, then gets shot with said lego arrow. Giggles some more*
Noa “It’s gone to LONDONS!!! I need to go on an aeroplane!!”
Noa “TOKEEYO IS DESTROYED! NOW IT’S DESTROYING THE CAPE TOWN!!!”
Tanith *eats winnie the pooh learning card*
Me “Uh, try not to eat that.” *has stroke of genuis and makes tiny jam sandwich men with currant eyes* “Here, eat these instead.”
Both children *WTF*
and I have another 1441 words on MTD, bringing the wordcount to: 15 130/ 100 000
Three weeks of refilling the well, and I’m writing again.
I’ve learnt not to beat myself up over these fallow periods. My brain needs them, and I write better after I’ve had the chance to recharge.
So there’s progress on MTD which really needs some kind of working working title. MTD is just too clunky. Current stats 6946/100 00, and halfway through chapter three.
Favourite bit today:
And now the rub. “Rommer wants us out the city.”
“Of course.” He snorts, then loosens the belt strapping him to his seat. “In his position, I’d have done the same.”
Stev claps me on the shoulder. “Come now, Merrick. I’m a practical man. Far more so than Rommer, anyway. If it had been me, I wouldn’t have sent my co-conspirators out on a wild goat chase. I’d have poisoned you.”
“You’re a wonderful friend,” I mutter drily.
“We haven’t been friends since University. Now, something to drink?”
“Anything stronger than tea. And I’ll pour it myself, thanks.”