DecWriMo Day 7 (12/8/19) | SNIPPET

Good morning, everyone! How have y’all’s weekends been?

We’ve had a great past few days. I blogged on Friday and told you all of my plans to write (which I did – yay!) and yesterday, we spent the day with our friends! Lucas was studying the whole time, but I crafted (#CricutChristmas) with my friend all day and actually got a decent amount done. Today I’m continuing to craft, as I’d love to be done all my gifts by the end of the week, do some cooking, some laundry, and hopefully write a little bit more.

The scene I’m currently working on is in the third chapter and where our two mains officially meet. They’ve “met” in the two previous chapters, but this is their first conversation. I’m having a lot of trouble setting the tone for it – I don’t know exactly what I want them to think of each other just yet. I’m also trying to weave in some world-building without being too info dumpy. I’m posting a snippet below of my favorite part. It’s not a knockout paragraph by any means, but I think this might be the section that has the least red pen through it when I edit.

Not my problem, I think as I pull my gaze away from the girl with a knife to her neck, stowing the piece of fabric in my pocket with my Rubik’s Cube. Anyways, it’s just Steve that’s got her. As the Bloat’s most tweaked-out denizen and notoriously pathetic blood beggar, he’ll steal a little of her blood and leave her alone. She’ll be back to normal in a couple of hours.


Help, the voice echoes in my head again, persistent and commanding. 

I shake my head in frustration. “Shut up,” I whisper, pulling the Rubik’s Cube out of my pocket to distract myself from the phantom pleading. “I don’t want any trouble.” 

With my toy comes the piece of fabric, now soaked through with blood. Something shifts in my chest as I look at the damp square of ruby in my hands and I curse my heart for its ability to feel before climbing up the nearest fire escape.

“Fucking idiot,” I mutter under my breath, not sure if I’m referencing Steve for going after a minor in the daylight, the girl for walking alone this early, or me for following cryptic signals from a disembodied voice and a bloody rag. 

Bridie, the character who’s talking in this chapter, has a very sardonic and self-deprecating voice. My favorite way to describe her is “a human trashcan Trying Her Best.”

That’s my post for today – apologies for the shortness of it! I really want to get moving on these present and finish what I can by tonight. Thanks for checking in, and have a wonderful Sunday!

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