Day 3
Sometimes you just know life's testing your resolve. I wrote some more today. Yes, I know you'll all kill me if I don't stop posting snippets of 200 words-or-less. I got going for a bit today, I found a flow and then out of nowhere - lightning headache - comes and steals my flow, and now it's gone. Very frustrating. So, here's what I got since last time and there'll be more tomorrow. Oh, also, everything so far is directly sequential, except that long snippet which was obviously another scene. If it all feels jagged and confused paste it all together to one document and, uh, hopefully it'll help.
***
"Oh, it's all bollocks Sam, there's nothing but cheap pockets out there. Romance novels and, uh, are you okay?" Keir came bustling through the door but stopped uncertainly mid-sentence. Sam paid him no heed as she got up and heaved the desk onto it's side. It was a dictionary alright, English to Norwegian, of all things. It was a thick book, and looked to be stuck pretty good where it was. Sam gave a wave to Keir.
"Hold the other end steady." Once he had gotten a grip she took a firm grip of the book and yanked it off.
"Reckon you found something?" Keir asked quietly and made his way over to have a look at the book.
Once Sam opened it she saw why it had gotten stuck, someone had cut out a hole in the papers to hide something. The paper had gone old and brittle, with her added weight the leg had partially broken off and crashed through the papers. She leafed through the few unbroken ones, of which half promptly fell out and into pieces, until she came to the actual compartment. It held a big, old-fashioned key.
"If this leads to the document cabinet I am going to be right pissed," she said dryly, but a smile was creeping onto her features, this could be something, it could be something real. "Did you see any locked doors out there?"
"Maybe, I saw a door."
Sam gave him a look and he raised his hands in defence.
"I didn't feel like braving another rickety staircase, alright? I like my legs just fine."
***
I'll get this scene eventually, I'm confident about that at least. That makes me thrilled for an entirely different reason, I used to be unable to show unpolished or unfinished work to people, or write stuff that I couldn't complete in one go, that was how perfectionist I was about my writing. I was downright paranoid that if I did one itty-bitty thing out of sequence the Gods of Writing would come down and Smite Me. No wonder I haven't written for such a long time. I think I actually had to mature as a person in order to allow myself to write and enjoy it again.
It's kind of funny that I've been hanging around a Creative Writing forum for so long without participating in the writing. Not that I regret it, if you can't write, if you're suffering from writer's block I think critiquing other people's works is the best way to keep your own skills relatively fresh. I might post something about writer's block later. Right now, I'm going to stab myself with a fork. I am told this will distract me from my headache.
***
"Oh, it's all bollocks Sam, there's nothing but cheap pockets out there. Romance novels and, uh, are you okay?" Keir came bustling through the door but stopped uncertainly mid-sentence. Sam paid him no heed as she got up and heaved the desk onto it's side. It was a dictionary alright, English to Norwegian, of all things. It was a thick book, and looked to be stuck pretty good where it was. Sam gave a wave to Keir.
"Hold the other end steady." Once he had gotten a grip she took a firm grip of the book and yanked it off.
"Reckon you found something?" Keir asked quietly and made his way over to have a look at the book.
Once Sam opened it she saw why it had gotten stuck, someone had cut out a hole in the papers to hide something. The paper had gone old and brittle, with her added weight the leg had partially broken off and crashed through the papers. She leafed through the few unbroken ones, of which half promptly fell out and into pieces, until she came to the actual compartment. It held a big, old-fashioned key.
"If this leads to the document cabinet I am going to be right pissed," she said dryly, but a smile was creeping onto her features, this could be something, it could be something real. "Did you see any locked doors out there?"
"Maybe, I saw a door."
Sam gave him a look and he raised his hands in defence.
"I didn't feel like braving another rickety staircase, alright? I like my legs just fine."
***
I'll get this scene eventually, I'm confident about that at least. That makes me thrilled for an entirely different reason, I used to be unable to show unpolished or unfinished work to people, or write stuff that I couldn't complete in one go, that was how perfectionist I was about my writing. I was downright paranoid that if I did one itty-bitty thing out of sequence the Gods of Writing would come down and Smite Me. No wonder I haven't written for such a long time. I think I actually had to mature as a person in order to allow myself to write and enjoy it again.
It's kind of funny that I've been hanging around a Creative Writing forum for so long without participating in the writing. Not that I regret it, if you can't write, if you're suffering from writer's block I think critiquing other people's works is the best way to keep your own skills relatively fresh. I might post something about writer's block later. Right now, I'm going to stab myself with a fork. I am told this will distract me from my headache.
Labels: Marrow's 30 Day Challenge, prose
posted by M | 12:33 am
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