Shining the light of God's word into our confused world.

Tag: writing progress

In which Jean gets ranty about socks and other not-so-critical things.

I need to rant about a couple of things for a minute. Rant the first:, women’s socks. I’ve been in need of a few pairs of thick, warm socks for a while now, and with this Arctic blast heading our way, we swung by Target after our weekly sojourn to Sprouts to see what they had. This is the second time I’ve tried to find decent warm ladies’ socks at Target–last week we checked the nearest Super Target, where I came up empty. Why is this so hard? They’re socks, for crying out loud. They have one basic job: keep your feet warm. But in the women’s department, all of the socks I could find were more concerned with being cute than warm. I ended up having to go to the men’s department to find a good pair of thick, warm boot socks that weren’t made out of fuzzy acrylic and covered in polka dots. Not that I have anything against polka dots, but that fuzzy stuff isn’t nearly as warm as it looks, and I found it kind of insulting that Target (or at least their sock vendors) seem to think women only care about fashion and not about, y’know, warm feet.

At any rate, now I finally have some good socks keeping my toes warm, even if they are made for big man feet (fortunately (I guess?) I have big woman feet, so they’re not too terribly big for me).

Rant the second: Carrots, man. Why is it so hard just to buy a couple of carrots when you need one or two for a recipe? Why does every store want you to buy a huge bag that’ll feed a family of ten? I want to make a pot of chicken soup and I don’t need twenty carrots to go in there. I also don’t like carrots well enough to have to eat two dozen of them. Seriously, I was really getting frustrated trying to shop for carrots today (and yes, I do realize that this is a first world problem). But I went to three different stores and by the end I was really feeling discriminated against for only being part of a couple and not having an entire family to feed (I’m sure it’s even worse for single people). Remember when they used to sell them in bunches and by weight and you could just take what you needed? Sprouts had bunches instead of bags, but even they priced them by the bunch instead of by weight, and the bunches were still way more than I wanted. Shopping for the right amount of carrots should not be so difficult, people.

Sigh.

At any rate, we’re weathering the cold weather okay. I also picked up another pair of fleece leggings at Target, and between that and my long johns (and my PJs and ear warmers and wrist warmers and heating pad and heavy blankets and a warm doggie in my lap and plenty of hot tea), I’m staying toasty enough.

So far this week I’ve done a good job of following my adaptation of Ma’s weekly chore rhyme, although the true test will come tomorrow when it’s time to do some house cleaning. I have recently come to terms with the fact that I am not a homemaker; homemaking is a full-time job, and as long as I have to freelance in addition to writing books to help pay the bills, that’s just not a reasonable thing to expect of myself, so I’ve got to let go of the idea of having a perfectly spotless and decorated house (and the guilt associated with never accomplishing it). So if we can both just rein in the clutter and do what we can to make it feel clean, I think we’re good to go.

Monday was the official start of my business and writing new year, and so far it’s been a pretty productive week. I’ve added about a thousand words to Ghost of a Chance, which is less than I hoped for; yesterday’s and today’s errands kept me from my morning writing sessions, although I’m hoping to fit in 500 more words later today. I outlined my self-publishing guide, and I’m hoping to start writing on that later today, too. It should go fairly quickly once I get going, since it’s all stuff I know and shouldn’t require too much research or mental gymnastics. I also have a new ghost-blogging client, which promises to be a weekly gig if they like my first post well enough (this post is serving to warm up the gears for that).

…that’s actually a lot of writing to get done in one afternoon. I guess I should stop blogging and get started.

What about you guys? Are you staying warm? Is your first full week of 2015 as productive as you’d hoped it would be? Tell me about it in the comments!

Sixty Thou and a Snippet

I passed the 60K mark on Dominion this morning, and I’m still muddling through the middle. Um, I think it’s safe to say that I’m not going to finish this thing up by mid-August like I’d planned. Too soon to tell whether this means I won’t be able to publish by Halloween, since I’m likely to pick up momentum once I hit the ramp up to the climax and then sail through to the end. But right now, I’m only averaging about 700 words a day, which is one scene every two days (and breaks from writing on the weekends), and I’ve got about five more scenes to go before I hit that ramp.

At any rate, it’s coming along. Here’s a snippet from today’s session:

The smell of rotting meat assaulted them, making Hannah’s stomach churn. She had to swallow against her gag reflex as she followed Zach into the tiny cell. Inside, strapped to a gurney, lay Bob. Except he didn’t lie there so much as writhe and squirm. The sight of him made her want to gag some more. His skin showed visible signs of decay, and it had mostly sloughed off where the restraints came in contact with it. His lips were missing, and as he strained toward them and gnashed his teeth, she saw that his tongue was gone, too. The flesh on the bottom half of his face had mostly rotted away.

Zach pulled a pair of gloves out of one pocket and put them on. From the other pocket he drew a scalpel and forceps, along with an empty vial that he handed to Hannah. “This’ll just take a sec’,” he said as he leaned over Bob and began carving out a small chunk of his thigh. If the pathetic thing on the gurney felt the scalpel cutting into him, it was impossible to tell. Zach grasped the sample with the forceps and turned back to Hannah. She tucked the gun under her arm and opened the vial so he could drop it in. She secured the lid and handed it back to Zach, who put everything back in his pockets and stripped off his gloves. “That’s it.”

A hand grabbed Zach’s sleeve. He let out a high pitched scream as it yanked him back, and as Bob pulled him down his other hand, or what was left of it, slipped free of its restraint. It grabbed Zach around the back of the neck and tried to pull him down toward those gnashing teeth. Hannah pointed the gun and fired. Bob’s head exploded like a melon, and his hands went limp. Zach fell backward on his rear and scrambled back against the wall, breathing hard. “Shit!”

Hannah brandished the gun. “Thought you said I wouldn’t need this.”

He pointed accusingly at Bob. “That’s never happened before!”

“That’s no reason not to expect it.” She reached down to help him up. After a few deep, calming breaths, he examined the corpse. Raw flesh and gray skin coated the wrist restraints and lay globbed up on the gurney. This time Hannah had to swallow the bile that rose in the back of her throat.

Zach’s face had gone pale. “He just slipped his hands off, like they were gloves.”

Progress Report

Instead of posting my word count daily, I’ll try to reign myself in to a weekly report. Here’s this week’s progress (so far) on Dominion of the Damned:

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Daily Word Count

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Date:

Project:

Word Count:

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5/9/2011

Dominion

549

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5/10/2011

Dominion

780

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5/11/2011

Dominion

1007

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5/12/2011

Dominion

1273

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5/13/2011

Dominion

774

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Total

4383

Total project word count so far: 13,738 — all that, and I think I just got to the story’s true beginning. :/

I’ve also made good headway on editing my short story Dream Child (working title). I’ve found myself with a day off from client projects, so I’m going to try to knock the rest of the second draft out today, and then I’ll be looking for beta readers.

All in all, especially considering that my clients kept me pretty busy with my “day job” this week, I think it’s been a pretty productive week, writing-wise.