Saturday, November 30, 2002 :::
 

Word Count: 37,687

I have thrown my hands up in defeat and slept the nap of surrender.

It was a good nap.

Honestly, though, I think I've come to terms with the idea that I'm not going to write another 13,000 words between tonight and midnight. I'm going to try to get to 40k and call it a good effort.

I've learned a lot about what I'm capable of when pushed to the wall. And what I'm not. There's something bitter about coming to terms with ones limits, but at the same time it's incredibly liberating. I can honestly say I put forth my best effort and I'm not capable of writing 5,000 words in a day. But I can produce 2000 words in a day, and that's something I didn't know about myself before I started.

And I have 37,000 more words done on this story than I did at the beginning of the month. That's progress!

I'll post a final count before midnight. And maybe one more excerpt if I can find one that doesn't suck too badly.


Thus ends

::: posted by Evie at 3:28 PM

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Friday, November 29, 2002 :::
 

Word count: 35,051

If I can do another 5,000 words today that will make 10,000 words for the day: a personal milestone. And it will leave me with 10,000 words to write tomorrow. And I will finish!

It seems stupid, in a way, that I've become so attached to finishing this thing. I know the story is crap, but I want that "I'm a Winner" icon. So here I go. Deep breath, and dive back in...

::: posted by Evie at 6:52 PM

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Wednesday, November 27, 2002 :::
 

word count: 27825

So I seem to have been dragged down the dark alley of research, where I was mugged and left for dead.

I'm like this with dictionaries as well. I go there to look up one word - just one word! - and I find myself three hours later reading about things I've never heard of before. You know what happens when you search the web for "real vampires"? The same damn thing. The worst thing is that it's entirely peripheral to my story. Gah. If you want to know what I finally found, Google this: "sanguinarian"

I'm just an information junkie.

In other news, I've just realized I've introduced the villain way too soon. Time to re-order scenes. And I have about 82 hours to write 20,000 words. Eeep! Now, I think, would be a good time to panic. (But only if it gives me energy to write.)

::: posted by Evie at 1:52 PM

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Sunday, November 24, 2002 :::
 

Word Count: 25,839

Augh. This weekend has not been as productive as I'd hoped. And here's an excerpt. It may be crap, but oh well. At least it's not worse than crap.

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Dragon looked relieved when they entered the shop, Sophie letting herself in with the key he had insisted she take. He looked Friederick over and then, apparently satisfied, turned to Sophie. "How are you?"

"Fine. I'm fine. It got a bit chilly there at the end." Sophie fiddled nervously. She was notoriously bad at lying, and she was sure it showed.

Dragon folded his arms and watched her patiently. Ok, she thought. It definitely showed. Friederick stepped in unexpectedly.

"I was just explaining to Sophie about my... condition," he said, without any hesitation at all.

The evening suddenly caught up with Sophie and she decided that she really needed to sit down. "You knew?" she asked weakly.

"I guessed." Dragon looked almost smug, a thing Sophie wouldn't have believed possible before today. He then turned a stern expression to Friederick. "So what about this guy who's looking for you? He's one of your kind?"
Friederick nodded solemnly. His eyes never left Sophie.

“Okay,” she finally said. “Do whatever you need to do.”

Dragon kneeled at her side, his arm covering hers, over the arm of the chair. He laced his fingers with hers and squeezed reassuringly.

The change in Friederick was frighteningly imperceptible. Either that or her eyes were unwilling to keep up with it, because it seemed like he suddenly went from his usual ethereally beautiful features to something completely unworldly and totally fearsome. He knelt at Sophie’s feet and looked up at her, his teeth lengthened and razor-sharp, and his eyes… His eyes were still the same golden-hazel, but there was something feral in them now. Sophie wouldn’t have thought it was possible for him to become more beautiful, but there he was.

Beyond fear, she reached out with a hand that was, not surprisingly, trembling. He allowed her to touch his face, holding himself very still, his eyes never leaving hers. She ran her fingers across his cheek, gently traced his lip. He’s so cold. She searched for permission, and thought she found it in his steady gaze. She pushed one finger into his mouth, an invasion that felt stranger than anything that had happened that night. She traced the outline of one long tooth with the tip of her finger. Fang, Soldano. This guy has fangs. Shocked, she quickly pulled her hand out of his mouth, feeling a bit like a swimmer who had just barely made it out of the water in time to avoid the shark.

Later she would say it wasn’t the fangs that convinced her, but his eyes. Sophie considered herself a good judge of people. Between her instinctual ability to ‘read’ and gauge a person’s reactions, and her bag of analytical tools, she’d gotten to the point where she mostly knew when someone was lying. Friederick wasn’t lying. He might be delusional, but he wasn’t playing with her intentionally. The fangs, however, strongly supported his assertion that he was, in fact, a real vampire.

Sophie gave a shaky sigh and dropped her trembling hand into her lap. Friederick continued to gaze up at her from where he was kneeling on the floor. His expression was not so much pleading as hopeful, and she responded to it, despite her fatigue and disorientation. “I need to go home. I’m very tired.”

::: posted by Evie at 10:19 PM

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