it's a great life, if you don't weaken (matociquala) wrote,
it's a great life, if you don't weaken

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Underslept. Overtired.

1298 words on Treachery of Princes and the next scene is burning a hole in my pocket, but I am too tired to write it. No words on Scardown, which is stalled around 40K currently because I dunno how to get from here to there just yet.

Still, plenty of time to finish. And no hurry to get it done, currently.

And I am going to bed. Two nights of inadewuate sleep in a row (please note, I consider 5-6 hours to be "normal," so when I say inadequate I mean it) have taken their toll.

Here is some of what I wrote today-- rough draft:

The beast reeked of pine and musk, a cloying scent Vladimir imagined he'd be smelling on his jacket for a week. It lowered its massive head before the slender princess and sniffed her boots before attempting to shoulder past her like a cow singlemindedly headed for the manger. She stepped left and obstructed its course. It snuffled again, moved ponderously right--ponderously, but it did not rustle the dried leaves under its enormous paws.

Gijs moved to block it again. Once, twice--like a dance, Vladimir thought, admiring the courage and grace of a girl he'd rather thought he hated. Before the thing simply brushed her aside, knocked her down with no more than a gesture, and shouldered toward the rest of the group.

Good night, Austin Texas, wherever you are.

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