Lana stands in the doorway of her office but it’s not her presence blocking Nadette’s way, it’s words strewn out, caustic and sharp, left everywhere to be tread upon.
P.S. The picture’s completely unrelated to this post. I just really like it.
I read half of Part Three today. I’ll read the second half tomorrow, and then it will be time to jump into a round of serious fixes. I’m determined to get this novel in shape and published.
A lot has changed in this story, especially in the last year. Here’s a paragraph I liked but had to half get rid of:
Days pass. Then a week. Then two, three, four. We breathe more easily, tension I wasn’t entirely conscious of making itself known by its absence. No one saw. Carson is safe, and we’re left to tiptoe around each other instead of the world.
This evening spiraled somewhat. I’m consequently tired, kind of grumpy, and really looking forward to rebooting myself (AKA: going to sleep and waking up tomorrow morning).
Another Don’t Bleed speck:
I need to do something about the energy source. I can’t stop it – somewhere someone in the world is always going to be bleeding and there’s nothing I can do about that – so I need to stop it from getting to him.
Oh, yeah, brilliant bit of reasoning. NOT. Because how do I do that?
I’ve had a lovely, relaxing day with family and friends.
Jumping right in, this is for the same story of the last several days:
They’re all the same, the parents who come here. Terrified, desperate. Going in there’s hope, however great or small. Coming out, the lucky ones are relieved, whatever price they’ve had to pay steep, frightening, but better than the alternative. The rest, though, you can see the shattered world in their eyes.