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What’s the use?
“What’s the use in working for the king if you can’t afford to save mom?”
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Projecting my desire for solitude
From a scene that ended up turning into a different scene, one this didn’t fit into:
Buttoning my gray coat and turning the collar up against the wind, I walk parallel to the water, projecting my desire for solitude. Not in a way that will intrude on thoughts or conversation, but enough that anyone forming a telepathic link with me would understand. I want to be left alone.
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Clumps of glue holding things together
The hole in him is gaping, so large I think I could see it half a world away. Fractured pieces are what remain and they haven’t been put back together right. Close, but not close enough. There are jagged edges, clumps of glue holding things together. He’s destroyed, maybe so much that the whole he’ll construct when he comes out of this darkness won’t have all the smoothness of before.
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Only one of them is Carson
It’s probably obvious that I’ve spent a bit of time reviewing all the material I have related to my novel. Here’s the beginning of yet another scene that was never in the novel itself:
There are five people in the living room when I come home. Only one of them is Carson. Not a profound statement, I know, but true.
“Only one of them is Carson” makes me laugh. The photo above also makes me laugh. What is that? A stock photo of the Doctor with psychic paper?
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You’re coming with us
Here’s an entire scene that never made it into my novel. Not even close. How not close? Paul was never a named character in any draft of it.
The doorbell rings just after 1100. Discounting Dante and my followers, we don’t often get visitors. I set aside the book I’m reading and go to the front door to peer through the peep hole. It’s the man from the stabbing.
<Carson, the guy you saved is here to see you.>
I open the door, smiling out of politeness. “Good morning. It’s good to see you up and about.”
<Okay. I just got out of the shower, I’ll be out in a few minutes.>
“Hey. Good morning,” he extends a hand. “I’m Paul.”
Shaking his hand, I step aside and gesture him in. “Eyan.”
“Er… Thanks,” he stutters.
“Please sit down,” I lead him into the living room.
He lowers himself onto the couch. “So… I managed to get your names and address. I hope you don’t mind. I just wanted to thank you.”
Considering how well known Carson is, his finding our address is not a feat to be wondered at. I settle across from Paul, on a lazy chair. “It’s my friend, Carson, you want to thank. He’s the one who saved your life. I was just with him.”
Paul’s eyebrows go up momentarily. “I wasn’t unconscious the whole time. I remember both of you.”
Yes, but you didn’t hear the silent conversation that proceeded my help. “Carson is really
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The Way of Attrition: Chapter Three
Happy New Year!
Today I’m posting Chapter 3 of my novel. Here are Chapters 1 and 2.
I’m continuing to have issues getting my chapters to load well in the blog so please let me know if you notice any issues.
Chapter 3
I’m awake by 0600. Rolling onto my stomach, I pull a tablet out of the top drawer of my right nightstand. Powering it up, I log on to the Filument, a vast network of computers connected by Lyril technology. All Chosen computers and mobile devices have seamless Filument and Internet access.
<Access news,> I instruct. A list of recent unread items maximizes under the heading Chosen News. The top one is a reminder about the semi-annual artponere, asking everyone who is participating to contact the organizer. This event brings Chosen from all over the world to the San Francisco Shelter for an exhibition of paintings, drawings, sculpture, and an evening of music, theater shorts, and various artistic endeavors.
<Send artponere reminder to Carson.> A list of Carsons appear under the heading, ‘Did you mean…’ None are Carson Wilde. An account must not have been set up for him. Knowing Davonte to be an early riser, I contact her. She agrees to my request, as expected. I’m out and back before Carson emerges from his room at 0702. He’s shaved. A simple change that does worlds to distance him from the Chair I found him in.
<Here,> I say, handing Carson a telamp. It’s a
