Here, Have a Snippet

I've got a handful of stories that are on the table right now:

• belated Yuletide gifts (1 or 2 will do, she's not picky)
• the collaboration (she's patient, which is good because I'm deep in revision/formatting wonderland)
• Splintered Gates (which is my learning how to write on a tablet book)
• Collateral Damage (the follow-up to Dowse and Bleed)

I've had an 4100+ word opening to Collateral Damage from before that phrase appeared in Dowse and Bleed, but I didn't know which direction to turn after that because it starts out from the perspective of Andre and Shift instead of a direct head-on with Rachelle. Which meant I hadn't the foggiest idea whose story it was and why. I only knew what was going on: the crisis.

Today, I went for the dubious option of just pick one. Here's the snippet:

Breathe. This was not supposed to happen now, not so soon, and not like this.

It was an effort to breathe, to shift gears from the world as Rachelle had always known it. Cycling was survival. She had to move the flood of genetic entries through her vascular system and into archive as soon as possible, or the backup would overwhelm her veins, which could only handle so much. But this day had been coming a long time, and it hit her hard when she incorporated one more entry into her own permanent genetic makeup and then felt that harsh inability to breathe that it was the archive out of space.

Don't cycle. Don't cycle. Back up, spin the paddles, find a shield and stop her own genetic flow. How can you deny your very bones?

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Originally published at Liana Mir. You can comment here or there.

This is What Happens When...

This entry is part 37 of 37 in the series Daily Scribble Reports

...I'm trying to move too quickly.

Scribbling today was aimed toward two things: reformat Dowse and Bleed to 6x9 instead of 5.5x8.5 because I forgot what size I made the cover and write a Yuletide gift-fic.

I'm really wishing I had this book in paperback. Of course, I don't. I'm headdesking pretty well at the moment, which isn't good because I have my once-a-year headache too. :growls:

I did get the story from inferno redone (I need an icon for it, don't I?), and I get to go home, Createspace a template, and fit the cover to the spine width requirements. The new size knocked 12 pages off the book. Pity. I'm down to 60. Ah well.

Procrastination

Wrote a blog post about Collateral Damage. Made an executive decision there. Made up a wishlist of books I'd like to read and/or buy this year. Wandered through the SF classics. Wasted my work break doing the above. Got struck by the lightning and wrote another blog post, this one on my authorial challenge for the year: learn how to at least consider plot.

Writing

You mean I actually did some? I decided to do the direct approach. Start typing and just make yourself do it. Got somewhere on the collaboration.

Publishing

Realized I had a good opportunity for once to finish the cover of Dowse and Bleed without my sister around, so did that. I forgot to email myself the PDF for the interior, but after I do, I can finish the last touches on getting it to Createspace. The only issue remaining on that front is I'm going to have to email them to get additional BISAC categories. Apparently, for the print edition, you only get one. I went with procedural and I'll have them add the science fiction.

Health

While I'm not happy with my word counts for the night, I'm calling it a night, primarily because I need to catch up on my sleep. I had a headache today, which is not a good sign. I usually have one a year under duress and that's it, so I don't have any coping mechanisms developed really.

Word Counts

• Fiction: 402 words
• Poetry: 0 words, 0 lines
• Blog: 1504 words

Splintered Gates

• Today: 0 words
• Total: 1028 words

Collaboration

• Today: 402 words
• Total: 56,380 words

January Totals

• Fiction: 2689 words
• Poetry: 212 words | 45 lines
• Blog: 3477 words

Completed Pieces

• Poem: "Before My Eyes," 220 words | 47 lines.

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Originally published at Liana Mir. You can comment here or there.