First of all: merry Christmas, and a happy New Year.
Second: we’ve passed 300 readers, which means I can start talking about how I’m defending my position on The List with 300, like King Leonidas at Thermopylae. Have you looked at The List’s leaderboard today, though? The contenders from the Launchpad competition have just been transferred in, at 3rd, 4th, 5th, and 6th. While the top three Launchpad entries are, according to the rules, probably going to be taken out again, there’s still that one contender, the fourth Launchpad entry, currently in 6th on The List, who’s just 10 readers below me and still taking orders....
In short, my position is Extremely Precarious, and I’m probably going to need a bunch of new readers within the next week to ensure my place.
In book news, the manuscript is complete and ready for submission. So is a brand new plan of the Veterans’ Club ground floor--and yes, the manuscript has been edited to take into account the new layout.
In short, we’re ready to roll. It’s just a question of what happens over the course of the next week. Now, more than ever: tell your friends, tell your enemies, tell your complete strangers. King Leonidas may have made an impressive defence of Thermopylae with his 300 Spartans, but that ultimately ended in defeat. Let’s hope the same doesn’t happen with my 300 readers.
It was dark. And raining. And cold. And Allison’s armor was beginning to chafe, despite its fine craftsmanship. As she sat shivering in the bushes outside a temple in one of the more reputable areas of town, she looked at her friends on either side, faintly satisfied that they all looked as miserable as she. Well, all of them but Jimmy. Like the others, he had pulled his cloak close, but not for warmth so much as to hide the glint of the mail vest he wore over a light leather jerkin. Th. . .
It was dark. And raining. And cold. And Allison’s armor was beginning to chafe, despite its fine craftsmanship. As she sat shivering in the bushes outside a temple in one of the more reputable areas of town, she looked at her friends on either side, faintly satisfied that they all looked as miserable as she. Well, all of them but Jimmy. Like the others, he had pulled his cloak close, but not for warmth so much as to hide the glint of the mail vest he wore over a light leather jerkin. Th. . .