Jun 16, 2015

Just a quick update - I'm grinding away at the manuscript in every spare moment I can grab. Just finished what Act One, and inserted a meta-textual framing structure that you all will HATE.  But I'm liking it, so in it stays for now.  Just ghosted past the 30K word mark in the draft, going to keep banging away and hopefully climb up to 40k in the next week or so. I'm directing a play that opens next Friday, so between day job and rehearsals the Grand Central Station of my brain is officially crammed full of trains and noisy passengers. I want to keep up the pace, but I have to be honest that's going to be tough until I get this show opened. July is going to be fun!

Here's a quick snippet from the chapter I just finished - a token of good faith, my noble supporters.

Spell/Sword Concept Art - Mike Groves - poopbird.com

“So, what should my name be?” Jonas asked, coming up to her side. “You know I’m no good at coming up with this on the spot. If people ask who I am, what do I tell them? Or you? Your name is going to be hard to hide pretty soon too.”

She chuckled despite herself. I’m losing my grip on sanity and Jonas keeps having good ideas. Upside down we go. “A good cover name should be something simple, close to your own name in case you stumble. Do you have another name already? Do they give middle names in Gilead?”

“Nah, just Jonas.” his brow furrowed. “Wait, do you have a middle name?”

Rime’s mouth went dry and she picked up her pace, nearly shouldering a pair of leather-clad sailors out of the way. She angled for a nearby archway that seemed to lead away from the docks and towards the center of town, the most likely place to find the market. The dawn sun made the archway a black silhouette, half of a dark circle. The mage squinted and could see that it was fashioned from  what appeared to be a pair of ancient rib bones, encased in a cunning lattice of brick and mortar. Earthen pots were placed at regular intervals along the top, and bright yellow flowers bloomed despite the advance of fall. I wonder if someone waters them, do they have a ladder nearby that they use for maintenance?

“Oh, man - it must be terrible,” her guardian practically salivated as the trotted to catch up. “You’ve got to tell me.”

Rime turned back, arms crossed. “No. Not going to happen. And this is not one of those times where someone says that a thing will never occur to build up your anticipation or even an opening for some passing deity to prepare some sort of ironic comeuppance. This is not a thing that you will know, ever.”

Jonas grinned, “Yeah, well, we’ll see.”

“No, we will not see.”

The squire laughed. “Aww, come on. What could be more complicated or strange sounding than --”

“Doma Rime Korvanus,” a voice came from the archway of brick and bone.

The two travelers spun, the squire’s hand already on his sword. Standing in the shadowed circle, outlined by the rising sun was a ghost. The hunter, Linus, had already drawn his white sword and held it out before him as if in benediction. His dented iron armor was the same, the white spiral sigil on his chest was the same, his cool blue eyes were the same. The same as the last time, on the beach. The few citizens of Shiloh coming through the archway eyeballed the situation with curiosity, but kept moving around the knight and his white sword like rocks in a stream. It’s so odd, that fucking sword. People think it’s a staff or a cane or some-weird-thing, and off they go with their business.

“You are dead,” Rime’s panic was slathered over with a thick coating of bruised propriety. It was just so rude. “I killed you myself. I made sure.”

“Yes,” Linus agreed. “But our business is not complete.”  

---Back to typing. Update you all soon!