Tag Archives: wip


Tough Love

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      I’m sitting on the floor of what I’m beginning to consider my room. It’s a dangerous thought to have because Moon Children don’t own anything. And yet, here I am, hunched over a book and pretending the squiggles are supposed to make sense. The doctor’s clothes hang off my frame loosely; I’m like a scarecrow from that children’s story, wishing for brains.             The scarecrows here live under the city and dine on flesh, but it doesn’t make them any smarter. “Mags?”             Dr. Barrows raps me gently on the head to bring me back from my woolgathering. It’s on the tip of my tongue to mention the scarecrows, but I decide the joke will fall flat. Moon Child humor is not for the faint of heart.             “This is useless. I cannot make sense of scribbles.” I turn the book so it’s upside down, but the words aren’t any… Read more

Word Counts

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I tend to make a big deal when I hit the 50k mark of a WiP – even though in means I’ve still got a long way to go. It’s a mental hurdle though, because it usually means I’m hitting that half-way mark. It’s all downhill from here. (Although in this case I’m not sure it is, but I’ll pretend it is, for the sake of argument. In truth, I think I’m aiming for another 70k, but I also need to leave some room for editing – there’s a lot of world building additions that are going to need be added/smoothed out, many of which I’m thinking about as I go.) But it’s nice to get there either way. I’ve got an actual story in play now, with plots and characters that I’m getting to know, so that always makes the rest of it a bit less intimidating than the… Read more

Brush of Darkness 3 Scene

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Just ’cause I feel like posting a bit. It’s super rough. Bear with me. OOO “What was that you were saying yesterday about a Denny’s?” I sniffed at the jerky, my nose wrinkling as the scent of rotting meat hit me in the face. “I didn’t think this stuff went bad.” “It doesn’t,” Phineas whispered. “Don’t move, Abby.” I froze, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. I swallowed against the gag reflex as the necrotic odor grew stronger. My eyes watered as though I’d bit into an onion. Slowly, I turned my head to catch a glimpse of a bulbous, blue skinned face, set off by tiny eyes and massive pointed ears. A draping of furs hung over the creature’s waist, a fact for which I was terribly grateful. I had *no* desire to see what it looked like in the buff. Of course the… Read more