Didn't realize it'd been so long since I'd uttered anything in here.
I haven't been altogether useless though ... I've been posting interrogations over on the shop blog.
So ya know, that's something, right?
Next Friday (the 28th) there's a Q and A at Upper Hutt Library ... me, Mark Brewer, and Bruce Melrose. Should be fun. The lovely Steph from the Book Council is asking the questions.
Looking forward to it. :)
This weekend is a long weekend for us. YAY.
Writing group on Saturday morning then I get to stay home until Tuesday. Hooray! I've got a ton of stuff to do. Really would like to nearly complete this freaking book. Getting closer every day.
I'm actually quite liking it now.
It's a twisty bugger though. But when has anything I've written not been?
Been quite enjoying the process over the last few weeks. Definitely makes it easier.
A huge change for Delta A in this book and that hasn't made the process easy at all. Gut wrenching at times and dealing with the ramifications hasn't exactly been fun for me or Delta.
Shit happens. Things change.
Can't think of anything else that's happening so here's an excerpt from METABYTE:
These are raw unedited words.
Black outlines in a variety of thicknesses appeared around my world. Color faded to the more muted tones of a comic book. At the top of the page a cream narration box appeared and filled with black words ‘Just at that moment’. My eyes scanned the page. A warm breeze lifted the corner revealing Chance sitting at his desk. He looked up.
“You’re here,” he said, waving a hand at a chair by his desk. As I moved I saw my boot. We were both comic book sketches. Fascinating. I sat on the chair and wriggled a bit. Black and red ink drawn leather felt comfortable.
“What’s going on Chance?”
“Your father-in-law’s faith is not misplaced.”
“I don’t think you can say that.” I’m talking to a drawing in a comic book office, and I don’t think he can say that?
“El, you are that chick. Remember?”
“The stakes have never been higher. If I fail I have to live with my families disappointment. I don’t think I can.” Hard enough living with my own. Echoes of my greatest failures to date haunted me. They had to haunt me. Mac and Carla were dead, haunting was all they had left. And I failed them both.
“You won’t fail. Just don’t drink Owen’s Kool-Aid, Ellie. The FBI didn’t spend a fortune training you to stand behind a counter and serve fries.”
I laughed. “Early retirement isn’t going to work for me, Chance. I think we both know how my career path will end and it won’t be in sitting on my porch in a rocking chair watching a sunset.”
“Don’t say bloody, El. It’s not going to end like that.”
“Yeah it is. I just don’t know when.”
Chance frowned. His pale blue eyes darkened. “And you’re okay with that?”
“I don’t think it’s up to me.” Truthfully I resigned myself to a sticky bloody end many years ago. It’s not how I go that bothers me, it’s when.
As Chance looked at me the color began to run. The blond from his hair picked up the blue in his eyes and trickled down his face, leaving cream streaks as it dripped off the page.
Arms tightened around me. The musky scent of Mitch’s deodorant brought me back to the present.
copyright Cat Connor 2016