For me, starting anything new–a story, a chapter, a scene–is always difficult. Not to mention that Wednesday night is usually when I stop off for dinner and a few adult beverages, and last night being no exception, it was really difficult getting my butt going on the next scene.
Really, for something like getting this new stuff going, I really need to sit in a room with everything off save the music and just jam away. Sort of like I’m doing now, with the buds in listening to Nine Inch Nails’ Head Like a Hole blast into my ears. Why am I listing to this? Because it’s a song that’s gonna play during one of the various excursions Annie and Kerry go out on when they’re flying about wherever they fly. And that deals with a scene that won’t come up for a while, but me, I gotta get into it now, because most of the stuff I know about this novel are already set in stone.
Yeah, I can figure out future scenes in my head, but I can’t get the current ones going.
Let’s put this behind me and move forward . . .
What comes is short–two hundred and ninety-five words–and kinda sweet, because we’ve not seen much internalizing with the following instructor. Vicky doesn’t get the same kind of exposure that some of the other instructors get, mostly because she’s the Flight and Jaunt instructor, and the Jaunting doesn’t come until the kid’s D Levels–assuming they need the the class, if you know what I mean. You really think Annie and Kerry won’t figure out teleportation before they start that class?
Which means this witch is chillin’ back on the Deck, and considering things in her mind–
All excerpts from The Foundation Chronicles, Book Two: B For Bewitching, copyright 2015, 2016 by Cassidy Frazee)
Vicky kept her eyes on the hologram tank in the middle of the room, much as she had nearly the whole night. It was much the same way the month before when Annie was out on her first solo flight, though they flight was in broad daylight and she and her chance were twenty-five kilometers from the school at their furthest.
She’d taken a chance sending them out on a night solo her second flight. Normal protocol would see Annie doing an early morning forty kilometer run to Lawrence before turning south to Middleton and back to Manchester before returning to the school. Total distance would have been right around ninety kilometers, but it would have been in daylight, and if there had been issues getting home would have meant flying towards the rising sun until they reached the ocean, and then followed the shoreline back to Cape Ann.
This solo flight saw them over a mostly urban environment, at night, venturing out to fifty kilometers from the safety of the Flight School. Vicky was aware they’d flown further on their own on brooms: once at the end of their A Levels, and once at the start of this school year. Both times they’d flown more than a hundred kilometers away, but those were straight-forward flights out and back, with little navigating in between. She also had it on good authority that Kerry did all the planing for their trips, figuring out their flight plans prior to departures.
He’s good at that. Vicky watched the dots in the tank heading towards their last checkpoint in Gloucester. Annie’s never shown an interest in that part of flying until now. Like everything else in her life, she develops her talent on her own schedule.
The only big revelation we have here is that the second solo flight would have been a morning jaunt to the west and back, about ninety kilometers total, with Annie never getting more than forty klicks out.
It was a simply flight, and that’s probably why Vicky decided to blow it off, because it was too simply. Little Miss Death Spells loves a challenge, and sending her to Boston at night is a good one, don’t you agree? If Vicky hadn’t, Annie would have likely complained a little about how easy that mission was. And let’s not give Annie anything easy to do, shall we?
This isn’t going to be a long scene, and it’s likely the scene after won’t be a long one, either. Like I said, I know what to write.
Getting started on it is always a pain in the butt. If only that were easier . . .