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Though we share this humble path, alone
How fragile is the heart
Oh give these clay feet wings to fly
To touch the face of the stars

Breathe life into this feeble heart
Lift this mortal veil of fear
Take these crumbled hopes, etched with tears
We'll rise above these earthly cares

Cast your eyes on the ocean
Cast your soul to the sea
When the dark night seems endless
Please remember me

Friday, March 30, 2012

Honor Among Thieves

Okay, so on my earlier post about the scene of using a flame thrower to clear out a restaurant of turncoats... yeah, I went a wrote the crappy first draft over the weekend. I had to. The scene kept floating back into my head whenever I tried to star something else. "I can't get it ut of my head," as ELO sang. Well, now it is.

And it was crappy, but it felt right and what isn't working or on the page is fixable. That's one of the skills I acquired without knowing how. I can tell about how many words a story will take, can match word counts pretty well, and I can feel if something is working, even when it's all bugger on the page at the moment.

Right now, I have no idea what the longer story will be. I'm thinking about transitions in the world, and plot twists (darn you Uncle Jim McDonald!). Something is saying Bonita Kassandra ends up in some position of power, maybe taking over for the Old Man. I'm not sure how she would do it, or how she would fair there (which is why I'm thinking it's a lesser position).

Plus I'm not sure how much of my enthusiasm for this is "Ooo, shiny penny!"

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