Saturday, August 4, 2012

Creeping success

Well, I'm on the ferry home from Vancouver and am picking away at my 'Brake Fluid' edits.

...and my word count just crept over 48,000 words.

I always keep my files single-spaced, so I'm currently on page 43 of 107, near the end of chapter 10.

Here are a few new lines that were added in during my edits today and yesterday, I'm sure some don't make a lot of sense out of context.

No matter how quickly she could identify a song from just the first few notes, no matter how bad her relationship was with her parents, the electric hum of incoming violence was one sound she had no reason to recognize.

Triss snorts. “I swear, they all deserve the Darwin award. Celery and alcohol, what they hell are they thinking?”

“I’ve got fucking JD leaking out of my eyes!”

Like I said, it’s the price of a warm meal, warm shower, and a warm place to sleep.

"...stop wearing clothes that look like they were stolen off a dead hobo.”

In the shower, hot water striping the filth from my skin, I can’t clean away the feel of Fay’s mouth on mine. I bow my head under the spray and try not to be sick, try not to let the muscles shake me into submission and let my knees buckle.

So, if she didn’t feel safe drinking around them, then I didn’t trust being within twenty feet when they were dead-ass sober.

‘Cause what my instincts are screaming right now is that really bad shit is gonna happen the moment I leave Triss. And for once, that voice is louder than the one that’s telling me to get the hell outta her room, the familiar voice that never fails to save my skin. The one I should listen to, but I don’t.

Which is why I came back. Which is why I turned the lie into truth.


  1. the last two snippets are great. But, who is it speaking in the shower?


Type me out a line of Shakespeare or a line of nonsense. Dumb-blonde-jokes & Irish jokes will make me laugh myself silly :)