Finally!
I am 12K into the rewrite, and just did my first copy/paste from the original draft. Okay, so it was like three sentences, and only one ended up staying pretty much the same, but still. Progress!
Soon, soon there will be more copying/pasting from the old draft to the new. I hope. And then you will see the word count revision meter go up by leaps and bounds.
Oh, and I snippeted the mirror image of this scene back when I was writing Draft 1. Seems only fair I snippet this one as well:
Mercy’s unit stood out. They’d already commandeered a table. No bulky combat armor, now, just plain black fatigues, the silver spread of angel’s wings imprinted on the sleeves. There used to be a halo in the patch, too, but someone up the line decided that was pushing things. Rescue pulled people out of bad situations, but they sinned as much as any other men. More, maybe.
As they were doing even now, alongside the squadron of pilots they’d spent the day rescuing. Something odd struck Mercy as she and Reaper came into the lounge, as she watched Drug introduce Black Squadron around, and the two groups settled down to a friendly game.
Usually, you could look across a room like this, and pick people out. Who was highly ranked, even without seeing the insignia attached to the uniform. Who had a temper, or a drinking problem. Who was a pilot, and who was a shock troop. She might not have noticed, if she hadn’t seen Black Squadron side by side with Atrea’s team.
“Mercy?” Reaper paused beside her, and frowned as he followed her gaze to the table, to the men gathered around it.
None of his men looked over - they were already engrossed in a game, and drinks. But she sized them up, imagined them standing, gauged the flex of muscle as they lifted glasses and tossed cards down. She compared them to Radek, to Link, to the men she’d served with for two years, and she thought about Reaper’s build.
Interesting, how much more they looked like shock troops, than pilots. Even Drug, Rescue trained, had a leaner build than any of them. It was more than just physicality, though. There was a presence about them.
“Quite an interesting group you have,” she said aloud, wondering why she even bothered. He knew what she was thinking.
Soon, soon there will be more copying/pasting from the old draft to the new. I hope. And then you will see the word count revision meter go up by leaps and bounds.
Oh, and I snippeted the mirror image of this scene back when I was writing Draft 1. Seems only fair I snippet this one as well:
Mercy’s unit stood out. They’d already commandeered a table. No bulky combat armor, now, just plain black fatigues, the silver spread of angel’s wings imprinted on the sleeves. There used to be a halo in the patch, too, but someone up the line decided that was pushing things. Rescue pulled people out of bad situations, but they sinned as much as any other men. More, maybe.
As they were doing even now, alongside the squadron of pilots they’d spent the day rescuing. Something odd struck Mercy as she and Reaper came into the lounge, as she watched Drug introduce Black Squadron around, and the two groups settled down to a friendly game.
Usually, you could look across a room like this, and pick people out. Who was highly ranked, even without seeing the insignia attached to the uniform. Who had a temper, or a drinking problem. Who was a pilot, and who was a shock troop. She might not have noticed, if she hadn’t seen Black Squadron side by side with Atrea’s team.
“Mercy?” Reaper paused beside her, and frowned as he followed her gaze to the table, to the men gathered around it.
None of his men looked over - they were already engrossed in a game, and drinks. But she sized them up, imagined them standing, gauged the flex of muscle as they lifted glasses and tossed cards down. She compared them to Radek, to Link, to the men she’d served with for two years, and she thought about Reaper’s build.
Interesting, how much more they looked like shock troops, than pilots. Even Drug, Rescue trained, had a leaner build than any of them. It was more than just physicality, though. There was a presence about them.
“Quite an interesting group you have,” she said aloud, wondering why she even bothered. He knew what she was thinking.