The Remains of the Day: Sitting By the Edge of the Wall

The last twenty-four hours have been strange and good ones.

First off, yesterday morning someone decided to leave a long, transphobic rant in the comments of yesterday’s blog post.  I gave it a quick read-through then sent it off to spam, since that would pretty much block that person from posting here under that email again, then blocked their their Google + account, which appeared to have been set up just to make their post.  About an hour after that happened I did some of my computer magic and discovered that (1) they were on my site for fifteen and a half minutes, (2) they posted from an iPhone, which is probably why they were on my site for so long, (3) the owner of the phone comes from a city in eastern West Virginia, and (4) their email had vanish.  Yes, you can run, but I will find you.

Then, walking home last night, I pulled a muscle in my left calf.  This is the same muscle that I tore teaching aerobics about twenty-five years ago, and it had started acting up on me yesterday morning as I got out of bed.  I’ve tried heat and ice on it, and today it’s in better shape though still sore.  So today I stick to flats throughout the day.

The good is that I opened boxed for a gift exchange I was in, and I scored a few nice things:

Behold the geeky stash!

Behold the geeky stash!

The mermaid socks I can’t wear because I have huge calves, so I’m giving them to the daughter of a friend who was also in the exchange as she watched a video of me opening my gifts and loved the sock.

Now I have a couple of cool wall hangings, a novel, a frelling bag–

Hodge Geektastic Exchange 0510201603

And more figurines for my limited desk space.

If you know your characters, from left to right it’s Sarah Manning and Helena from Orphan Black, Michonne from The Walking Dead, and behind Helena is Baby Groot who, I should point out, was hand made for me by my gifter.

Oh, and there was one other gift:  a pink oneies that was made special for me.

Pretty in Pink, yeah?

Pretty in Pink, yeah?

Yes, now I can stay warm–and I do mean warm, ’cause that’s fleece–during the winter when there is no one else to keep me warm.  And hope I don’t have to use the bathroom much cause getting into that is like putting on a space suit.

Now . . . what about writing?

Well, my calf isn’t the only thing hurting.  The last couple of days I’ve had considerable pain in the knuckles of my pinkie and ring fingers of my right hand, and it was hurting so much last night that I found it difficult to type.  I managed only a little better output than I had the evening before–about four hundred and sixty-six words this time–and it didn’t help that my left calf was killing me as well, which means I should have been sitting down with my feet propped up instead.  And I just remembered:  the battery on this computer lasts about four hour now, so I could have tried writing that way instead.  Okay, note to self:  try that tonight if you have to write.

What I did get out not only advancing things a little, but ends in a way that no one would ever expect . . .


All excerpts from The Foundation Chronicles, Book Two: B For Bewitching, copyright 2015, 2016 by Cassidy Frazee)

Kerry asked about visiting, Annie said yes, as she thought going to the wall was a good idea. Getting there wasn’t a problem: Kerry pulled his broom from Hammerspace and was airborne in about ten seconds, and Annie was alongside, floating into the air with aid from her Flight Gift. After the quick flight to Sunset they landed atop the wall and found a place to rest.

They did something there a few meters from Sunset Tower that they’d never done before: the sat upon the raised outer segment of the wall and dangled their legs over the edge of the fifteen meter high ledge. Annie watched Kerry carefully position himself so he wouldn’t tumble, realizing that his fear of heights hadn’t completely left him yet. She found that phobia a bit usual, as he didn’t have problem flying a couple of kilometers above the ground, but he was still shaky sitting at the top of a fifteen meters wall.

They sat quietly for about ten minutes, holding hands and watching the western light diminish as the sun vanished below the horizon. It was only when it seemed the gloom beneath their feet had become a tangible thing did Kerry speak. “What are you thinking about?”

She half-turned her head to her right. “I’m wondering about what you’re thinking.”

He chuckled. “Me, huh?”


Kerry stared off to the west towards the town of Annisquam and the harbor beyond. “I just wonder if we’re going to get hit with any more strange stuff before we leave school?”

Annie carefully regarded the question. “While the past few months have been rather revealing and not a little unusual, I believe everything out of the ordinary has likely come to an end.”

“Yeah. Probably.” He released Annie’s hand and set his elbows against his thighs before leaving slightly forward. “You want to see if this Three Bindings thing is going to affect us, don’t you?”

“Naturally.” She swung her right leg up and under her left so she could turn and face Kerry. “You know me well enough that you shouldn’t even have to ask that question, my love.” Annie returned to sitting with her legs over the wall edge. “And I know you well enough to know you want to know if it’ll affect us as well.” She cranked her head around so she could see him clearly. “You should know better, Mr. Malibey.”

He laughed aloud as he turned towards Annie. “I do know better than that, Mrs. Malibey, it’s just—”

Kerry caught himself himself a few words later but couldn’t turn away from Annie, who stared back with a look of amazement on her face. She found her voice a few seconds after silence fell between them. “Well . . . that’s something I hadn’t expect to hear.”


And those last paragraphs will have me digging into the last novel, because that’s where this is going in a way:  back to the past.

All I have to do now is get through the day.

"Oh, man:  what sort of shit awaits beyond my door?  Be gentle, please."

“Oh, man: what sort of shit awaits beyond my door? Be gentle, please.”

Under the Channel and to the Airport

Tell us, Cassie, what was said sound track you listened to as you typed away last night, Why, it was Goodbye Yellow Brick Road and Don’t Shoot Me I’m Only the Piano Player, both by Elton John.  I point out that Goodbye Yellow Brick Road was the first album I ever bought, followed by the 2001 Sound Track.  Strange kid, I was.

Little back pain and feeling far more ready to slap down some words than the night before.  I wasn’t perfect, but I was better.  And whenever I felt like my back was a few moments from screaming on its own, I’d get up, walk around the studio, maybe sit in the easy chair for a few, then get back to writing.

I made it through three scenes last night.  First, I got the kids into the Chunnel, where something nice happened.  Second, I had a moment with Annie where something special happened.  These two things brought about the end of Chapter One, and so with that I launched into Chapter Two and brought another character onto the stage, one who is conducting business with Ms. Rutherford, the children’s chaperon, and who will be on and off the stage of this story for the rest of the book.  They met in Grand Cafe Het Paleis, in the departure area of Schiphol Amsterdam Airport while the kids–all the ones from Europe, Africa, and a couple of Western Asia–cooled their heels in the KLM lounge right above them.

It’s flying day.  I’m eager to get to this point.

I made my way through a quarter of the story–sorry, I should say, a quarter of the fifty-four thousand words I will write before the end of November.  The NaNo site is telling me, however, that I’ll reach my goal by 17 November.  Don’t know if that’s real or not, but I’ve always finished my stories ahead of time, and always with more words that expected.  It does seem likely that if I keep at my pace of about two thousand words a night–a goal I’ve only missed twice so far, and not by much–that I’ll hit my goal and be well over fifty-four thousand by the time I leave The Burg and head home for the holidays.

Today is going to be tough, however.  No back pain last night, but when I headed off to bed my thighs were hurting like mad.  I rolled about for a while, took some aspirin and tried sleeping in the easy chair, and finally dozed off into dreamland about three AM.  At the moment I don’t feel like I’m about to collapse into a heap, but come noon time it’s likely going to hit.  I’m probably going to struggle a little getting my two thousand in tonight, but I will try.  If nothing else I will get seventeen thousand, my daily minimum, and then kick back to watch American Horror Story deal with zombies and burning witches.

I haven’t wrote like this in a long time.

It’s feeling wonderful.

Daily word count:  2,155.  Total word count:  15,030.