Would anyone take a look at the story I've got so far...I'm fearing it's an actionless wonder and given the rest of these guys seem to work in a shooting or a sweaty bangfest every page or so, I can't be having that. Because despite the fact that my throbbing lance is non-existent, I still want it to be bigger.

In Morning Sun

Back on Erica Road, we had a small glass-topped table. It sat in front of the glass deck doors. The kitchen, small and oddly shaped, was inadequate for anything other than cursing as I cooked.

We ate - when I could get him to eat - at the glass-topped table. We'd sit facing each other, me watching him pick at his food, worrying that I wasn't doing enough, doing anything right.

Sometimes, catching my fret, he'd look up and smile. For a moment, we'd face each other in peace, a stray beam of sunlight lying like a sword between us.

erika, send. But I probably won't get to it until later or tomorrow morning - taking Bev to the airport and it's a catfeeding night.

It's weird. Starting with character first, it can be hard for me to find the story, sometimes. And yet I know some of these other writers write harbioled so they can show their characters messing around on their wives and such...drinking from the bottle...threeways at gunpoint. I could be over-thinking..

Ahem.

Cruel Sister progress:

Just started the middle third of the final chapter. This one should come in right around 76,500 words and be done by the weekend. Then Nic can print it at work and it goes off to Monday morning.

A month ahead of deadline, assuming we don't have a massive earthquake or some junk.

Woohoo, Deb! That is fantastic.

In which Ringan - and the reader - realise just who is haunting who in this one....

Yay, Deb!

My editing process has slowed down this week what with all I have to do getting ready for the conference this weekend. Also, I'm having to rewrite one chapter completely, and since I just saw Serenity last night, Jack keeps wanting to talk like Mal.

Divided

He sat across from me for twenty years. The table was carefully arranged to accommodate two lefties: Jim and I--the righties--on one side, Mike across from us--by himself, Mom on the end. Mike played linchpin in our fights, deciding alliances, so it served parental double duty—divide and conquer. It came in handy the time I threw the chair at him. I couldn’t throw it over the table, so I had to settle for throwing it at the ground.

I would give anything to be able to set the chair down for him to sit at, again.

Sail, that's poignant, and very image-ful.

Susan, break out the Sharpe dvds and get Jack's voice back.

Deb, damn. Was it just last night we were burrito hunting and talking writing? I can't wait to read the whole of Cruel Sister. It may top Matty for sheer terror-building for the reader. It's a great send-off for the characters and the series.