Saturday, November 5, 2011

Word count is at 6,032: behind, but catching up [WIP]

Have had several crazy days in a row, and wound up not getting anything written last night due to complete brain fatigue failure, but tonight I slammed 2500 words down, and will continue doing that or better until I'm back at pace.

By the end of tomorrow night the NaNoWriMo benchmark is 10,000 words, and I've got another full day working with Amy in her henna booth scheduled tomorrow, so it'll be tight, but it's the end of Daylight Saving Time, so I'll have another hour's stamina to burn. I'd love to get 4,000 words written tomorrow evening. Wish me luck!

And now, some WIP from this evening's efforts:

“You believe me, don’t you?” she asked. “You believe that I’m right about these things. If the Blighted Lands can do such strange and horrible things, then it’s possible I might, well, be different, too.”
“Oh, it’s definitely possible,” Niles said. “Much that is strange about the world is possible, and much of it lives right next to us without our ever knowing.
“I have met a boy that could find water,” Niles said. “In the desert, in the mountains, even blindfolded and seated in a cistern filled with rain water to confuse him, he could point to large bodies of water and tell about how far away they were, and how far deep underground, if they needed wells dug.”
“Ha! I knew it!” Anttiri said. She smiled for the first time that afternoon.
“He was killed by his tribesmen--they were wanderers--after he found the twenty-fifth well on his first try. They called him Magus, and Praecantator. Some of the filthiest words anyone knows. Then for fear of mare elementi, the sea elemental, they killed him in water, burying him in the well they’d dug at his behest, and then sealing it with stone and blood and salt, using as much ‘magic’ as they accused him of doing.”
She looked at him, aghast; unable for once to speak.
“The church excommunicated the leaders of the tribe, of course. Maya says that the killing of any one for fear of magic is a great wrong, and we offer sancutary to anyone fleeing such a death, but our power to prevent is nothing like our power to punish, so his is not a rare story.”

The plot, it thickens as with a fine blond roux. More tomorrow!


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