Actions For Better and Not Worse

The weekend is over, and I have to say, I’m actually a bit glad to see that happen.  While there was a lot going on, not all of it was good, and yesterday was sort of a blah day punctuated with writing in the morning and writing late at night.

Yes, after writing six hundred words in the morning, I turned around and wrote almost another six hundred words before heading off to bed.  Chapter Twenty is close to being finished, and that will likely happen tonight, maybe after another thousand or so words.  In five days I’ve written forty-seven hundred words for the chapter, which has even surprised me, because my mind is telling me that nothing is happening, that I’m sort of slacking off.  But that’s how I roll.

I also found one of those interesting things that I do once in a while:  I’ll get the look of the scene wrong.  What do I mean?  Go back to when Kerry was in his dorm and discovered the sky was red.  Local time it was about six AM, which is no big deal.  Except . . . I didn’t really check to see what time the sun came up around that area, and that’s an important thing, because one of the lines in the scene indicates that Kerry see the sun behind a cloud–

So a quick check of the historical weather for Cape Ann–really Beverly, MA, which is just north of Salem and about fifteen miles west of the school–and I discover that the actual sunrise doesn’t take play for about an hour after that.  Another quick check, this time with Sky View Cafe, and I see that it’ll start getting light out over the Atlantic at six AM, but no sunrise.  So it became necessary to do a quick adjustment to make sure Kerry didn’t see the sun–and if you can see that red barrier in the sky before it’s completely light, it’s even spookier.  You’ll also find out why you can see that in the scene on which I’m working . . .

Oh, and the reason the time for the sunset changed so dramatically by moving the attack up a week?  Daylight Savings Time.  The Foundation should do something about that.

Out to Flight School, then, where Kerry is getting ready to do battle–or at least do something that involves flying.


(All excerpts, this page, from The Foundation Chronicles, Book One: A For Advanced, copyright 2013, 2014, by Cassidy Frazee)

Kerry stepped off the stairs and into the Flight School’s hanger, his helmet in one pocket of his leather flying jacket, and his goggles in the other. There were maybe a dozen students milling about, all of them dressed the same way, in flying leathers with their coven symbol on their jackets. Some had their PAVs in hand and were walking out the large open hanger door were most of the students were milling about waiting for instructions. A few were pulling their PAVs out of the various cabinets. Everyone was carrying a Class 1 PAV; Kerry figure they were probably easier to use for whatever they were going to do for . . . the duration of the emergency, as he heard one person say.

He found Emma standing off to one side, dressed like everyone else. She waved the moment she spotted him. “Hey, wingmate.”

“Hey.” Professor Salomon told them as soon at everyone teleported to the Flight School that she was paring them together, as it was likely the other pilots would have a problem with them as a wingmate. Kerry didn’t have a problem with that, and nether did Emma: she was ecstatic that they’d spend the day flying together.


Yes, that old axiom that no one with experience will fly with the new kids because they might do something that would get them killed, so better to keep them together and let them die together.  Of course, the other axiom is if they live, then they’re worthy to fly with the big kids next time.

Assuming they live.

While Emma may be full of joy and happiness about getting some seat time in, Kerry’s a little more of a realist.  That’s his MO, really:  he doesn’t always look at things and think the experience is going to be wonderfu–


Kerry wasn’t so certain it was going to be that great an experience, but he’d made his choice, and there wasn’t any chance to turn back. He heard while changing into his flight suit that The Pentagram was sealed at seven forty-five, and until the security level was dropped, there wasn’t any chance of getting back inside. He was here, for better or worse—

Just like when you get married.

He almost stopped walking towards Emma, because he hadn’t any idea why that thought popped into his head. He hoped she hadn’t seen anything strange come over him . . .

“You okay?” Emma cocked her head slightly to one side.

She did see something. “I’m fine. You been here long?”

“Just a couple of minutes.” She pointed at a student wearing Cernunnos jacket. “I saw him handing out brooms to a couple of people; we’ll probably need to do the same.”

Kerry nodded in the student’s direction. “Bet do it, then.” He smiled and tapped Emma on the left shoulder. “Let’s do this.”


And there it is:  the first indication that something’s tap-tap-tapping away at Kerry’s mind.  Even he’s thinking, “Why did that come up?”  By the time this day is over–and since this part of the novel is pretty much a full twenty-four and few more hours after that–a lot of things will happen that he’ll have to wrap his mind around.

In the meantime, someone needs brooms.


“We need our equipment.” He pointed between Emma and himself. “Can you help us?”

The older student shrugged. “I think we have all the Covingtons locked up—”

“Espinoza 4500.”

Niles did a double take. “What?”

“Espinoza 4500.” Kerry raised his voice so there wasn’t any chance his words were misunderstood. “That’s what I fly.”

“Me, too.” Emma raised her normally sot-spoken voice. “I want one as well.”

Maybe three seconds of silence passed between the trio, then Niles laughed aloud. “Yeah, right. You guys think you can handle a 4500 all day because you’re the Baby Snakes?”

“Actually, I’m a Baby Snake—” He indicated Emma. “She’s more of a Baby Bird—I think.” He sighed loudly before staring at Niles. “Two Espinoza 4500s—”

Emma hardened her tone. “Please.”


And there’s where I left off, with the Baby Whatevers looking for something to fly, and a fellow covenmate of Kerry’s giving him crap.  Don’t worry:  they’ll get their equipment.  I wouldn’t have brought them this far just to leave them behind.  And it’s a beautiful morning . . .

It looks pretty now, but don't worry:  the screaming comes later.

It looks pretty now, but don’t worry: the screaming comes later.