Um. no!

Sorry!!! That's what I get for hitting "read new" instead of "recent"!

No problem, love!

Crossposted pretty much everywhere I talk writing because I'm feeling so gloaty...

Guess who just reached 300 pages on her WIP? ME, that's who!

That's 300 pages in Courier New, because I like the old-school typewriter look of the font. Makes me feel part of the great continuum of storytellers extending back in time, somehow. Actually, I'm at 302 pages, 66,875 words by MS Word's counter, to be exact.

I'm shooting for a 500 page draft, give or take, something between 100K and 125K for a word count. (One of the reasons I'm happy to be writing historical fantasy instead of romance is that writing short doesn't come naturally to me, and AFAICT you're actually allowed to go over 100K!) And...you know, the end is in sight. Finally. I've got some thorny plot hurdles to overcome still, but I do know where I'm going. I just have to figure out how to get there. I can do that. The hope is to have the rough draft finished by August 15, which should be doable. Then maybe a week off, and a month or so of hardcore editing to try to whip this thing into marketable shape.

And then, unless my agent asks for major revisions...I may actually have a book on editors' desks seeking its fortune by the end of 2008! Woo! I'm so ready to get my work back in the market!

The freedom prompt is now closed.

The new prompt is fences.

That's great, Susan. I'm glad it's going well..

::raises glass to Susan's achievement::

Yay, Susan!

Great work, Susan, congrats.

This may be too long, but I couldn't resist the triple-play.

Pieces

Grunting. Clanging. Yelling. Smashing. Cheering.

Eddie might have more customers if he set up shop in less eclectic surroundings. Or at least a few rows back. I flinched instinctively, as the rattling came a bit too close. So did the smell.

"Iron in those links, baby. They can't touch you out here." Eddie laughed. I didn't.

"You think I risked my pretty little neck for a measly 10%?" I was shouting to be heard. "It's 30 or nothing, E."

"Sweetie, I can't do 30 no more. Game's hotter than Jersey, and I'm bare......with my....... still together." His words were swallowed by clashing steel. I reached for the bag, and made to get up. He put his hand on my arm.

"15." But he didn't mean it. The rest was easy.

The standing crowd roared as the victor humbly wiped his blade. A gate was opened, and a moaning carcass limped out, clutching at his bleeding stains.

I deftly sidestepped the cash-waving hordes running for the counter. I had my 25%, and a promise of elsewhere next time. I glanced at the burly men rolling towering, neatly-counted stacks towards the wall vault, and I smiled. Next time, it would have to be elsewhere.

Oh funny, Wolfram. I took the same left turn off the prompt.

I'd love to see amych drabble on this topic.

Anything I try to come up with that has to do with fences just comes out sounding like Desperado.

I think this one is a true drabble. (I finally looked up what that means.)

Security

He climbed over his snoring brother and off the bed. In the corner of the dirt floor, he found the stashed condom.

Standing on the clothes-filled trunk, he nudged open the creaky window and climbed through. His bare feet found purchase on the scratchy, uneven stones, and he landed, heavily, on the gravel road.

The narrow chain-linked section of the endless wall had not been replaced by cement. She smiled, her young fingers poking through the metal latticework to touch him.

It was wonderfully awkward, and she cried. “Shalom,” she whispered. “Salaam,” he replied, but she was already gone.