Writing

Sixth Day – More Goop Dropped into the Mix

Sixth Day – Making an Interesting Change

Sixth DaySixth Day craziness is upon me. I’m behind and need to push myself harder than I ever had. Yes, I know there’s been days where I’ve hammered the keys, but that’s usually when I start a new project. So that is what I’m going to do.

This whole challenge I’ve been talking about finishing the first novel and then tackling the second one. But that is not working this year. Instead, getting the first novel, Mother, written is running into issues getting the dialogue down (I’m somewhat of a perfectionist) and moving the narrative forward with ferocity. So on the sixth day comes a big announcement – Joshua 47. This novel has went through my mind for the last two years and I even did an outline. Now it will move forward.

Right now, I did finish 3,300 words today and completed a presentation to the Uxbridge Writers’ Community. A really good group of people who I think I’ve convinced to join NaNoWriMo next year. Sorry guys, but you’ll get hook with the challenge.

So Joshua 47 is a stand alone novel that will include hard SciFi, twisting intrigue, romance, and confrontations. Tomorrow I’ll push out at least 3,000 words in it to set the first chapter but I also need to kill at least one chapter out of the current work. Which one will happen first I don’t know, but it will happen. I promise this one. Anyway, my buddy Wolf wants to read a SciFi novel for me so I’m going to get it done.

Chapter 8 – Barge Hell

Eric is busy putting the last of his cooking materials into the camper. I’m a few paces away when Bren steps out and immediately smiles at me. A little heat starts to decorate my cheeks at her smile. The admiration of a teenager is not something I wanted. But it could be worse, she could hate me and all.

I hold out my hand to shake Eric’s but instead of taking it, he places a glass into it. Clear liquid sits in the bottom waiting for someone unwary to drink. I raise an eyebrow at him.

“Same as before. Only the good stuff.” He holds up a bottle very different than the last. It’s clear with a cork stopper the top of the bottle comes in concave and I read the words Gran Patron etched into the glass.

I go to hand the glass back. “Still gasoline.”

“Not so much,” he says. “But if you don’t like it, tell me what you’d rather drink.”

“I’m a rum guy, but you probably don’t have what I really like.”

The corner of Eric’s mouth lifts. “Try me.”

“Redrum.”

He takes the glass from me. “Bren, top shelf second cupboard. Find the bottle, please.”

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