Six days into April and I am one tired little girl–well, I’m not so little, but I’m tired. Why? Writing. Only I can hear you now: “But you’re not working on your novel, Cassie!” And that’s true: if I were counting what I’ve written for my recaps, I’d be in Camp NaNo land right now, ’cause for two shows it’s been close to thirty-five hundred words in two days, and that’s some humping. Also, I find I write better in the morning with my story and that by nighttime I’m usually a bit befuddled, which isn’t helping get things out.
None of that is helping out my word production where it should count.
And not only that, but if you’ve been keeping track, I’ve another important milestone coming up. Besides coming close to three hundred thousand words. But we’ll talk about that next week.
What I did get out is this: my kids are where they are supposed to be, and they are literally in the middle of nowhere. And unlike me, it’s time for a rest.
(All excerpts from The Foundation Chronicles, Book Two: B For Bewitching, copyright 2015, 2016 by Cassidy Frazee)
Annie relaxed and twisted around to find Kerry only a few meters away. “Yes, we are, Flight Deck. My chase is getting photographic proof we’ve arrived right now. Over.”
“Good to hear, Athena. Why don’t you guys take a five minute break before we send you off to the next objection? Over.”
Annie was ready to go now, but given that the only thing she knew was another objective existed, she thought it best to take Vicky’s advice and spend a few minutes taking a rest. “Roger, Flight Deck. We’ll see you five minutes. Over and out.” She leaned slightly forward and rolled so she was facing Kerry. “How did I look in the picture?”
“Busy and a little cold.” Kerry inched his broom closer. “How are you feeling?”
She exposed her face so he could see her grin. “Are you asking, or are they?”
He exposed his face and returned the grim. “I’m asking. Though they did ask about half-way through this leg about you.”
“And what did you tell them?”
“I told them you looked good.” He slid his broom sideways next to her and took her hand. “Which you always do.”
“Thank you, my love.” Annie saw something in Kerry’s eyes that she hadn’t seen before leaving Isles of Shoals, and she wasn’t sure she what hide behind this look. “I felt a little tired when we arrive, but that’s gone now. How are you feeling?”
Any time you ask Kerry how he feels, it’s a loaded question. You know what you’re going to get: “I’m okay.” Because that’s his go-to response to just about everything. Now, while he does cop to letting Annie know back home wanted to know how she was holding up on her three hundred kilometer dash, he also knows that now is not the time to give pat answers:
He looked past Annie and stared at the buoy for a few seconds. His usually response was to say all was fine, but given their situation and location, Kerry was aware that wouldn’t be in best interest of either of them. “The run out here didn’t bother me. It’s just—” He glanced downward for a second. “There’s something about being this close to the water I don’t like.”
Annie kept her tone and mood light. “You’ve flown over this area before, yes?”
He laughed. “Yeah, I’ve been over this area before.” He gazed upward while pointing. “Only I was about seventeen hundred meters higher.”
“And going almost three hundred kilometers an hour faster than we were coming here. So why would flying out here bother you when you’ve all ready done something far more extreme?”
He shrugged. “That was different.”
Kerry looked about, going over the answer in his mind as if to make certain it made sense. “It just feels like if something went wrong, we’d be in the water so fast—”
“My love?” Annie floated in front of him, her eyes staring into his.
He took a deep breath. “Yes, my Darling?”
“You race, don’t you?”
He nodded slowly. “Yes.”
“At speeds around or over as fast as we flew here?”
He bowed his his, chuckling. “Yes.”
Annie touched his cheek. “What’s the difference between going three hundred kilometers an hour eight meters above the ground and between trees, and going the same speed three hundred meters over the ocean?”
Yeah, what is the different, Kerry? I would have liked to have gotten to his reasons, but at the time I put the last of those six-words-short-of-five-hundred down in Scrivener, it was eleven-thirty PM–or, as my kids would say, twenty-three thirty–and I was right at the point of nodding out at the computer. Because I’m crazy and I’m really pushing myself to get things done.
Tonight should be better, with “should” being the operative word. Next week, though–oh, boy. I’ll be in Chicken With Head Cut Off Mode. But I’ll get through.