From Chapter 1 of my current Work in Progress:

Twelve armsmen, eight among them unblooded youngsters, none of them battle-tempered. Six archers aiming from window slits high above. Thirty-seven apparent noncombatants leaning over the battlements and peering from the windows--any could be armed.

Vey marked each person’s location in his mind. With practiced precision, he calculated the likely trajectories between them, his Queen and her handmaid, and his Brothers. The grounds outside the palace walls offered few places for defense, but the Brothers could move swiftly, and Halle would protect their Queen’s life with her own.

Standing orders were to avoid offensive engagement unless otherwise directed. Neutralize the enemy even when attacked. He had the advantage--his nearest opponent faced into the sun. Squinting against the sun’s glare, the guard shifted uneasily as his eyes darted from Vey to the other faceless Wraiths. A flash of light reflecting off of his sword heightened the nerves of the other guards; all raised their weapons higher to keep their uninvited guests in place.

Vey and his Brothers were motionless, waiting for their Queen’s command.

“My arrival has not been a surprise.” Within the circle of her protectors, his Queen’s voice was edged with displeasure. “The King of Eindeven has promised me the peace of his household.”

The guard who had halted their party, an officer by his wide-legged, dominant stance and by the symbols embroidered on his tunic, was unimpressed. “I’ll not let a force of armed assassins into His Majesty’s court,” he growled. “Your men surrender their weapons, or you leave the lot of ’em out here.”

A flicker of movement from high above caught Vey’s eye. One of the high windows that had been previously unoccupied now framed the figure of a late arrival. A woman.

She was darker-skinned than any woman he had ever seen. She was dressed with the plainness of a servant, unornamented, and unprotected. Her dark eyes were intent as she watched the conflict below, her lips slightly parted. When she leaned closer to the window, a shaft of sunlight brushed her skin, gilding it with honey.

Vey had tasted honey once. He’d been very young and very ill, unable to even look at food. The spoonful of dark, thick honey had been a heavy sweetness against his tongue, making his mouth water in spite of his lack of appetite. He had longed to ask for more.

Those of you who enjoy flashes from the past have to check out Miss Retro Modern's Photos. Simply divine.

Last night, around 1:45 AM, the engine in our apartment's air conditioning unit apparently fried itself. We awoke to find smoke pouring into the apartment through the vents and spent a few of the following hours getting to know the residents of our local firehouse.

We are, of course, left with an apartment covered in little strings of ash, clothes that smell like something unspeakable burned in them, and a hole in our ceiling. The apartment manager has said that she'll try to get the unit replaced by the end of the day. Meanwhile, the electricity to our apartment has been turned off; we spent the few hours before the morning at a friend's house, but we're unsure about what we're supposed to do next.

I'll probably take tomorrow off to start doing laundry or clean-up. Meanwhile, I'm trying to look at the silver linings--we woke up before the smoke could do untold damage to our lungs or kill us, and we still have most of our smoke-stained possessions.

Am I really supposed to be able to write through things like this?

Today will be a writing day. Things to do:
1. Finish the first draft of Chapter 5.
2. In the first four chapters, flesh V and Tam out into fuller characters, like they are in my head. Show more of the conflict/interaction going on in their own lives; intertwine it with the plot line
3. Do my normal first rewrite of Chapter 5 at this point so that it reflects the changes in the first chapters.
4. Start chapter 6.

The likelihood of me getting this list covered today, or even this weekend, is fairly low. But if I set my mind toward Chapter 5, it's a start, and a start is better than a stall.

Might start putting snippets of my work up here as well, if I can get over the worry about it being plagarized and published by someone else before I can do it.

My critique group tore apart my latest chapter. It hurt like the dickens, but I have to admit that they're right about the weak spots they pointed out. These spots web flaws out from the first chapters like cracks spreading through windshield glass. To keep them from spreading any further into the following chapters, I'm going to finish the rough draft of the chapter I'm working on now, then go back and rewrite the first four chapters (making the main characters stronger), then redo chapter 5 to match the changes in the first four.

I need speed. I need to be able to get over my unreasonable fear of attaching myself to something I loved so much before. Hey--maybe that's it, huh? I was so attached to it, and when the hurricane hit New Orleans, I was ripped away from being able to so much as think about it for a long time. Maybe I don't want that to happen again. Maybe I'm just still stressed out.

I wish I could take time off from work--say, a two-week stretch--to get some straight writing done in a modicum of privacy (which I don't have in our teeny space in the evenings). But work is wonderful when it's allowing you to pay for your medical needs and buy things. Buying things...heck, that has become a whole 'nother problem these days.

Find happiness where you can, people. Hopefully it won't involve your credit cards.

I have to admit that although I'm frustrated with how long it's taking me to write, I've come up with some good ideas during those long stretches of silent fingers. The odd part--my novel seems to want very much to be a two-parter. Funny, considering how much difficulty I'm having getting this written down. Perhaps I'll just end up writing a hefty tome in the style of Lorna Freeman (READ LORNA'S BOOKS NOW!).

Well, our house was robbed a sixth time. They broke through our attempts to secure the place. Doesn't seem like it'll be safe to move back even if we're able to afford the post-hurricane repairs.

I'm trying to get in a writing frame of mind. Really, I am.