I wrote today at lunch, sequestered away in a dingy corner of my building’s mezzanine, trying to work while listening to screaming abuse from the interior courtyard. I had to force myself to focus, force myself to struggle through, the way I struggled through the beginning of Traditor. But it felt good to finally, finally work again, to ignore the abyss around me and get lost, once more, in Bryn & Mer’s world. I think—I hope—I’m giving them a good beginning.
I’m planning to print a copy of Traditor so that I can do one final edit on my way back and forth to work. There’s more than enough time on my new commute, and the book certainly could use a little more polishing. Besides, I’d like to reread it, to reassure myself that I finished a novel once, and can do it again. What a novel thought.
659 words.
It's not much, but it's a start.
Working Title: Damnatio Memoriae
Word Count: 1,795
Writing Mode: I want the fire back.
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