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And We Are Ashes: Chapter 7, Part 3
Nov. 19th, 2007 12:27 amWoot! Another chapter down. One more actual "episode" and then I'm in 100% AU territory, instead of just skirting its shores.
37,051 / 50,000 words. 74% done!
Today's Word Count: 3,000
Current Total Word Count: 37,051
Estimated Total Word Count: ~100,000
What's bad: I'm at that point where I'm starting to question whether I'm going to be able to get this done in 100,000 words. I'm 37,000 in and I haven't done Dead Man's Blood or the denouement. I'm also at the Sloughs of Despair part where I'm convinced it's all dreck, I'm a hack and no one's going to read this anyway, after all this work. That's not a plea for reassurance. It's just the process. And my fear, don't get me wrong, but I'm always like this at this stage, too close to see if it's any good or not.
What's good: The Sam & Mary continues to be golden and I love the pivot of Mary's feelings about Max Miller. Of all the special kids, I think I felt the worst for him, poor thing. Word count's good too; I think that covers my deficit from before. Nineteen days in and I'm sitting kinda pretty.
What pleases me: "Look," Sam says in a soothing voice, "I don't know…I don't know what it was like with you. I know I can't even imagine what it was like for you growing up like you did…"
Mary recognizes the bitter satisfaction that goes across Max's face, the perverse pride of knowing no one else's misfortunes outweigh yours. The familiarity takes her by the throat, a taste like bile in the back of her mouth.
"I couldn't tell anybody, when my visions started. Not my girl, not my mom, not my…my brother." Mary hears the catch in Sam's voice and has to look away, the sourness of her mouth worsening. She looks past the two boys to Hannah Miller, still flattened to the wall. Mary catches the other woman's gaze, reading the mingled terror and guilt. Mary's anger is quick to follow, burning up through her whole body to warm her through. Jennifer McCoy had risked her life and died to keep her son safe and out of the hands of the Aunts and this woman couldn't even protect Max from his father and uncle. She puts her anger aside, out of place and useless to her in this situation and signals with her eyes, indicating that Hannah should edge sideways, toward the door behind her and to her right. Hannah's eyes flick in that direction without comprehension and then back to Mary's.
"…but I know what it's like to be different," Sam continues in that same even, earnest voice. "To be afraid of it. To hate it. To want more than anything to be like the kids you see on the street, the ones you go to school with; the ones that don't even know how good they got it."
"Yeah," Max mutters, half under his breath.
Previous parts can be found here
( I know what it's like to be different. )
Today's Word Count: 3,000
Current Total Word Count: 37,051
Estimated Total Word Count: ~100,000
What's bad: I'm at that point where I'm starting to question whether I'm going to be able to get this done in 100,000 words. I'm 37,000 in and I haven't done Dead Man's Blood or the denouement. I'm also at the Sloughs of Despair part where I'm convinced it's all dreck, I'm a hack and no one's going to read this anyway, after all this work. That's not a plea for reassurance. It's just the process. And my fear, don't get me wrong, but I'm always like this at this stage, too close to see if it's any good or not.
What's good: The Sam & Mary continues to be golden and I love the pivot of Mary's feelings about Max Miller. Of all the special kids, I think I felt the worst for him, poor thing. Word count's good too; I think that covers my deficit from before. Nineteen days in and I'm sitting kinda pretty.
What pleases me: "Look," Sam says in a soothing voice, "I don't know…I don't know what it was like with you. I know I can't even imagine what it was like for you growing up like you did…"
Mary recognizes the bitter satisfaction that goes across Max's face, the perverse pride of knowing no one else's misfortunes outweigh yours. The familiarity takes her by the throat, a taste like bile in the back of her mouth.
"I couldn't tell anybody, when my visions started. Not my girl, not my mom, not my…my brother." Mary hears the catch in Sam's voice and has to look away, the sourness of her mouth worsening. She looks past the two boys to Hannah Miller, still flattened to the wall. Mary catches the other woman's gaze, reading the mingled terror and guilt. Mary's anger is quick to follow, burning up through her whole body to warm her through. Jennifer McCoy had risked her life and died to keep her son safe and out of the hands of the Aunts and this woman couldn't even protect Max from his father and uncle. She puts her anger aside, out of place and useless to her in this situation and signals with her eyes, indicating that Hannah should edge sideways, toward the door behind her and to her right. Hannah's eyes flick in that direction without comprehension and then back to Mary's.
"…but I know what it's like to be different," Sam continues in that same even, earnest voice. "To be afraid of it. To hate it. To want more than anything to be like the kids you see on the street, the ones you go to school with; the ones that don't even know how good they got it."
"Yeah," Max mutters, half under his breath.
Previous parts can be found here
( I know what it's like to be different. )
