"They scanned the room. There were so many auras; they could see them all now. Their vision was improving. Most of the auras they saw were torn and frayed, but the specific one they sought would be slashed and trashed, hanging in tatters from whoever carried it."
I've had a quiet week on the actual writing front, but that doesn't mean I haven't been working on the project. As most writers will tell you, a lot of work is done when we're simply sitting about staring at the wall. DEAD BAD THINGS has a complex plot, so I find that I'm spending even more time than usual just thinking about the story. Keeping a world inside your head is hard work; often bits keep sliding off. Real life gets in the way.
Sometimes it feels like you're wrestling with the story, and other times it's like dancing. There's a kind of choreography to what goes on inside your head, and you have to keep up with the beat or fall flat on your backside.
So, right now I'm wrestling when all I really want to do is dance.
This struggle makes it all worthwhile in the end, or so you keep telling yourself. You kick on and you keep chipping away at the book. It's what writers do. We're persistent fuckers. Especially me.
Current word count: 22,500