Baker Streets and Book Stores

Sound track; what was the sound track?  Yessongs by Yes, 461 Ocean Boulevard by Eric Clapton, and Simon and Garfunkel Greatest Hits.  There you are.  Lots of music, lots of time to write.

There was a reason for all the being spent:  I was sort of struggling through the writing.  I spent hours getting through research and looking at things and other stuff (“Whatcha workin’ on, Rick?”  “I’m workin’ on, you know:  stuff.”), and when it came time to do the words in the computer thing, it was like going at relativistic speeds:  you can get close to the words you want to write, but you can’t get out the exact ones you require.  It’s frustrating, but it’s part of this game.

Even so, I managed to push the novel a little further down the road.  Today should be the day I push through ten thousand words, and probably hit eleven, too.  If I’m really good, I’ll make twelve, but I won’t push myself too hard to reach that point.  I definitely feel I’m going to leave off the last scene of Chapter One, because what I could do there I could do in the next scene.  Then again . . . yes, I’m teasing with this stuff.  I know I could put a little bumper at the end of Chapter One, just a few hundred words showing something . . .

It’s a big setup.  I’m guessing twenty-five thousand words will pass through the gates before the first day of school even rolls onto the pages.  But it’s not about class–well, it is in a way–it’s about the little things.  It’s about being different in the real world.  It’s about learning about what you can do.  It’s about pushing yourself.  It’s about being a strange kid in a new land with strange things.

Yeah, the story is weird.  I like it.

But there was a lot happening yesterday.  There was walking down Baker Street; there was wondering if one’s clothing measurements were being made by a girl with a dragon tattoo; there were scientific supplies; and there was a meeting in a book store that I’ve actually been dreading for a while, but got through with little injury.  And now I’m in breakfast with a short Irish kids and a somewhat rude Scottish girl, and the group chaperon has said something along the lines of there’s no plan for the day:


A waitress set a saucer and cup in front of Ms. Rutherford; she didn’t speak until the server was out of earshot. “Nothing.”

Collin’s frown was severe enough to furrow his brow. “What do you mean?”


Poor Collin.  He should find a big chair to lift up his legs and curl up into.  Life is less stressful that way.

It’s nearly time to write.  It’s time to throw on music and get a couple of thousand words in the basket.  I didn’t update my count yesterday because I didn’t; I wanted to see Torchwood and Orphan Black last night, and watching The Clone Club was more important that doing The Word Count.  I’ll get it done today, never fear.

Now excuse me:  I got some urban exploring to put my characters through.