Now that was nice. I just got done doing a concentrated hour of drafting on the Wannoshay novel, setting up a scene with Skin and his wife as the world slowly spirals into chaos as the second wave of aliens arrive on Earth, and I was able to crank out about 5 pages of stuff in about an hour or so.

It's gotten to the point now where working on the novel isn't really working anymore; it's like chatting with old friends. Especially with Skin and Father Joshua, who I've known now for 6 and a half years, having first written a story featuring each of them waaay back in Clarion '96. Everything is really starting to gel, and I'm looking forward to putting together the ending. Then I can revisit everyone again as I revise the whole thing.

Very cool. Got a lot of stuff done today, revising the cockroach story so it's really close to being ready to send out, and doing some more job searching. I may have some part-time stuff lined up soon, doing tutoring, and my night classes start up at the end of the month. So I should be good in that respect. I also revamped my story and novel submission log so it's easier to read (it was a table, and now it's a numbered list that features every market a story has been sent to, at a glance). That took much longer than I'd expected it to, unfortunately.

I also got to read some cool stories by fellow writers Derek, Jay, and Eric, as well as more of Tim's novel, and I must say, it's a quite pleasant way to spend my day, with friends old and new, and their handiwork. Later.

Now Reading:
Rangergirl, Tim Pratt; The Stone of Darkness, Eric Matthews

Stories out to Publishers:
19

Today's Words:
1,400

Novel Words:
95,500

Today's Quote:
Surprisingly, there was no pain. As luck would have it, just like Georgie, Skin had gotten injured close to a hospital doing research compatible with his ailment. While Georgie had been fitted with the latest advancement in upright walkers, Skin had benefited from the latest bone-repairing techniques, including a kind of glue that he had watched the surgeons inject directly into the bones of his hands that he had shattered against the metal wall of the ship.

I really wish they would’ve knocked me out for that, Skin thought, pacing around the crowded foyer of the hotel. Everyone around him had their Netstreams on, holding the small screens up to their face or flipping their more expensive glasses over their eyes to see the latest about the Late Ones. Instead of forming a sort of white noise as a background to Skin’s memory of the five-inch-long, ten-gauge needle being slammed into each of his secured fingers, the dozens of Netstreams only served to add to Skin’s apprehension and irritation.

Lisa shouldn’t be coming here, he thought, trying without much success at gathering up anger for her. But every time he started feeling the gut-twisting frustration and fear for the safety of his wife and little boy, he was overcome by a sense of gladness. He wanted Lisa and Randy close by for selfish reasons, in case the world really was going to come to a bad end in the next day or so.