End of Week 3 Write-a-ton Word count: 5478
I've passed the (theoretical) half-way mark in my first draft. This past two days, I've felt as if it's losing direction, so I've been going through past scenes and and looking for ways of finding my way again. I've found a few surprises I missed during the writing process, and now know exactly where to go next. It's exciting and I just want to sit here all day writing until it's finished. Every spare moment is spent either tapping at the keyboard or writing in my head. First drafts have never felt so magical before...
A little bit of unedited wordage:
Startled, Ju swung around. Through the gloom she could see the outline of the voice’s owner, a skinny lad she guessed. He had a dog with him on a chain, some kind of large hunting beast with a pointed muzzle. She hadn’t heard them follow her.
“There’s a public path following the river bank. Go now and I’ll make sure the dogs don’t bother you. Head east.”
Ju frowned. “Who are you?”
The lad moved closer, lightly and silently. He had a long, angular face and shoulder-length pale hair. Something about the hooded pits of his eyes made her think of demons; but then she smelled wet dog and adolescent sweat and the lad suddenly seemed too raw for that. “The name’s Ruk,” he said. “And you’re Juliet Periweather. You shouldn’t be here.”
“How do you know?”
“Let’s just say I have inside information. If you're working for Prowd, you're a fool.”
“I’m not working for Prowd.”
Ruk’s laugh was low and mocking. “The king’s magician works for *you*?” he asked incredulously. "I doubt that.”
“Of course not.”
“Then there’s no other reason for you to be here.”
For a long, churning moment Ju wanted to tell him everything. But he was just a lad, a dog handler, one of the last people who would know how to help her.
A little bit of unedited wordage:
Startled, Ju swung around. Through the gloom she could see the outline of the voice’s owner, a skinny lad she guessed. He had a dog with him on a chain, some kind of large hunting beast with a pointed muzzle. She hadn’t heard them follow her.
“There’s a public path following the river bank. Go now and I’ll make sure the dogs don’t bother you. Head east.”
Ju frowned. “Who are you?”
The lad moved closer, lightly and silently. He had a long, angular face and shoulder-length pale hair. Something about the hooded pits of his eyes made her think of demons; but then she smelled wet dog and adolescent sweat and the lad suddenly seemed too raw for that. “The name’s Ruk,” he said. “And you’re Juliet Periweather. You shouldn’t be here.”
“How do you know?”
“Let’s just say I have inside information. If you're working for Prowd, you're a fool.”
“I’m not working for Prowd.”
Ruk’s laugh was low and mocking. “The king’s magician works for *you*?” he asked incredulously. "I doubt that.”
“Of course not.”
“Then there’s no other reason for you to be here.”
For a long, churning moment Ju wanted to tell him everything. But he was just a lad, a dog handler, one of the last people who would know how to help her.