![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
And We Are Ashes: Chapter Five, Part 1
Nov. 7th, 2007 12:31 amToday was actually so much better and worse. The writing itself went really well and feels wonderful. I feel like I really hit a stride here. But this was all complicated by the fact that I completely messed up my eye and so I've been suffering through a headache from hell, a stuffy/runny nose and watering eyes ALL DARNED DAY.
13,977 / 50,000 words. 28% done!
Today's Word Count: 2,366 (WOOT, MOTHERFUCKERS!)
Current Total Word Count:
Estimated Total Word Count: ~100,000
What's bad: I scratched my cornea. That made every word of this REALLY DIFFICULT TO TYPE.
What's good: Everything else! I've been having issues with how close the last chapter was to canon, feeling like I was just retelling instead of reinterperting, but this chapter is really a lot more AU, giving me room to do new and different things. It's also a lot more fun to write when I have this room to embroider and go off the beaten path. I really need to add some physical description for Zach, but I like how he's shaping up, young and powerful and amoral and just a little too excited to be doing this. And I think that, although Mary's was stubborn and codproud to let Sam walk away the way she did, her regret afterward is ringing true.
What pleases me: "So what brings you to Burkitsville?" Emily asks, once she's got the nozzle in and the pump is loudly clicking over the gallons.
Mary stubs the END button quickly and looks up into Emily's guileless eyes. "Not a damn thing," she admits. "Just passing through, looking for some breakfast."
Emily nods, pleasant expression not budged in the least. "Best place…" Her smile turns rueful. "Well, pretty much the only place is Scotty's Café over there." She points. "But the food's good. And the apple pie is first rate."
Mary makes a face. "I'm not much for canned apples."
"Oh, no! They're fresh. Or…last year's harvest, anyway. Believe me, they taste as fresh as when they came off the branch." She holds up her hand. "Swear."
"Never really thought of Indiana as an apple state." Mary tucks the cell back in her pocket—though not without yet another pang of misgiving—and tucks her hands into her armpits for warmth. It's a lot warmer than standing on the road in the dark of night with Sam, but April in the Midwest is still a damp, chilly time.
Emily laughs. "Well, it isn't. Really, it's just us."
"So you're a local?" Mary's not really one for small talk, but the low level kibitzing of interrogation has become second nature.
Emily shrugs. "My parents died when I was thirteen." She jerks her thumb back at the shadowed interior of the gas station. "My aunt and uncle took me in. They're nice people." Another shrug. "Everybody's nice here."
"The perfect little town?" Mary asks, careful not to let disbelief enter her tone.
Another smile and Emily's cheeks must ache all day from all this smiling. "Well, it's the boonies. But I love it. The towns around us, Scottsburg, Salem… It's not the same. People losing their homes, their farms, drugs coming in and the crime rate rising. But not here. My aunt says we've been blessed."
( You should really try the pie! )
Today's Word Count: 2,366 (WOOT, MOTHERFUCKERS!)
Current Total Word Count:
Estimated Total Word Count: ~100,000
What's bad: I scratched my cornea. That made every word of this REALLY DIFFICULT TO TYPE.
What's good: Everything else! I've been having issues with how close the last chapter was to canon, feeling like I was just retelling instead of reinterperting, but this chapter is really a lot more AU, giving me room to do new and different things. It's also a lot more fun to write when I have this room to embroider and go off the beaten path. I really need to add some physical description for Zach, but I like how he's shaping up, young and powerful and amoral and just a little too excited to be doing this. And I think that, although Mary's was stubborn and codproud to let Sam walk away the way she did, her regret afterward is ringing true.
What pleases me: "So what brings you to Burkitsville?" Emily asks, once she's got the nozzle in and the pump is loudly clicking over the gallons.
Mary stubs the END button quickly and looks up into Emily's guileless eyes. "Not a damn thing," she admits. "Just passing through, looking for some breakfast."
Emily nods, pleasant expression not budged in the least. "Best place…" Her smile turns rueful. "Well, pretty much the only place is Scotty's Café over there." She points. "But the food's good. And the apple pie is first rate."
Mary makes a face. "I'm not much for canned apples."
"Oh, no! They're fresh. Or…last year's harvest, anyway. Believe me, they taste as fresh as when they came off the branch." She holds up her hand. "Swear."
"Never really thought of Indiana as an apple state." Mary tucks the cell back in her pocket—though not without yet another pang of misgiving—and tucks her hands into her armpits for warmth. It's a lot warmer than standing on the road in the dark of night with Sam, but April in the Midwest is still a damp, chilly time.
Emily laughs. "Well, it isn't. Really, it's just us."
"So you're a local?" Mary's not really one for small talk, but the low level kibitzing of interrogation has become second nature.
Emily shrugs. "My parents died when I was thirteen." She jerks her thumb back at the shadowed interior of the gas station. "My aunt and uncle took me in. They're nice people." Another shrug. "Everybody's nice here."
"The perfect little town?" Mary asks, careful not to let disbelief enter her tone.
Another smile and Emily's cheeks must ache all day from all this smiling. "Well, it's the boonies. But I love it. The towns around us, Scottsburg, Salem… It's not the same. People losing their homes, their farms, drugs coming in and the crime rate rising. But not here. My aunt says we've been blessed."
( You should really try the pie! )
