Sourcing the Odds

Though last night was one of those nights where it seemed like I was doing a dozen things at the same time, I managed to get a lot done.  It wasn’t crazy time or anything like that, just busy stuff that kept me going pretty much from the time I walked into the apartment until I was time to go to bed.

Let’s see:  I was writing my new scene, I was editing a story for a friend to read, and I was chatting with said friend about some of my old stories, most of which are strange erotica.  Of late I’ve gone through a lot of that old stuff, thinking about updating it and throwing out on Smashwords and Amazon to take its place alongside all the other strange erotica out there.  (What I want to know is why isn’t there more lesbian werewolf erotica?  I see a lot of gay werewolf erotica, but nothing for the ladies?  Or are we too busy being seduced by dragons and krakens?)

I found one story that I’d even forgotten I still had, though I remember writing it so long ago.  How long ago?  Someone made a reference to Windows 98 in the story, that’s how long ago.  If I remember the situation behind the story, I think I wrote it about 1997 or so, and ended up posting it on a now-defunct website for all to see.  That way I could say to all, “I be published, yo!”  The other thing I forgot about the story is that someone actually illustrated the story for me, throwing in a couple of drawing for some of the stranger scenes.  Why did they do that?  Because they liked the story.

Ah, back in the day when I was such a hot-shot kinky erotica writer.

Did I mention I was also drinking last night?  Yeah, a little bit of the cognac to take the edge off a long week.  And it managed to get the creative juices flowing, too.  What can I say?

"I'm such a busy girl--next up on my list:  getting blind drunk and finishing my novel.  Worked for Hemmingway!"

“Next up on my list: getting blind drunk and finishing my novel. Worked for Hemingway!”

And through all this I managed to get back into my new scene.  Honestly, with all the jerking around I did last night I had no idea if I was doing anything right in the story or not.  It felt like I was writing, while on the other hand it felt like I was spinning my wheels getting little done.  By the time I shut the project down and headed off to bed, I’d clocked in just over seven hundred words, which isn’t a huge amount, but it’s inching back up towards a thousand, and that’s really where I want to be in terms of getting my word count on.

Which led to this little moment:

 

(Excerpt from The Foundation Chronicles, Book One: A For Advanced, copyright 2013, 2014, by Cassidy Frazee)

Ms. Rutherford was on her feet before Annie could react, and snapped her finger in the direction of the lifts. “Then there’s our third member—Kerry.” The chaperon’s smiling eyes followed Annie to her feet. “He’s gonna come out of those lifts any moment now because he’s usually early when he’s not sleeping in—” She chuckled as if she were keeping a joke to herself. “He’ll probably have his backpack with him, and his phone and computer inside. He’s going to look around, wonder where everyone is, and then head into the cafe because if there’s one thing that kid won’t miss, it’s free food.”

This much Annie knew to be true. “I noticed that last night.”

“The thing with Kerry is there’s a fifty-six percent possibility—”

Annie’s right eyebrow shot upward. “Fifty-six percent is a rather exacting prediction, isn’t it?”

“You think?”

“For someone who isn’t a Numerologist, yes.” She locked her arms across her chest. “Too exacting, actually.”

“I can assure you I’m not a Numerologist—” Ms. Rutherford didn’t bother to keep from smirking. “Though you don’t know what I took when I was in school . . . As I was saying: there’s a fifty-six percent possibility that once Kerry hears today’s news, he’s gonna head back up to his room, set up his computer, and do whatever it is he does on it all day long. And should that happen, we’ll not see him for the rest of the day.” She glanced down at Annie’s darkened expression. “Or should I say, you won’t see him for the rest of the day—I won’t see him ’cause I’ll be in the office.”

So she knows. Annie was aware that her family knew why she wanted to arrived in Amsterdam with the London group, but this was the first indication she’d received that other’s in The Foundation also knew why she was staging here. “That’s likely, I’m afraid.” She wasn’t about to give Ms. Rutherford the satisfaction of seeing her mood change for the worse.

 

Damn these Foundation people:  knowing the odds and your little secrets.  Well, when you do your best to run the world, you pick up on these little things.

Just wait until Annie is running things:  she’ll probably drive people crazy with her crap.