And with that, I’m done with the laundry list of revisions on From Earth I Have Arisen, and believe I might have myself a draft. Just for the hell of it, here’s Magic Meter to mark the occasion:
I still need to make one more pass through the ms to tidy up any loose threads that might remain, but after that, back to my editors it goes, with fingers crossed. Which, I must say, makes it hard to type. But I’m getting better with practice.
After I get From Earth out the door, it’s time to begin the rewrite of Apocalypse Pictures Presents. I’m guessing that will take about three months or so. I hope. Then I’ll start a new novel, assuming I have one figured out by then.
A last snippet for ya:
God still has a plan for you.
Kathleen’s words had seemed hollow at the time, but they resonated now, sonorous as a gong. His pulse quickened. In her final extremity, she’d seen something he’d been blind to.
His gaze lighted on a dusty bookshelf in the corner, near the fireplace. He knew the volumes there by heart. By far the thickest of them, well worn and beloved, was his copy of Don Quixote.
Everyone wanted to be the hero, even in these debased times. And that was what Nowata needed, even more than recon data. Something transcendent, larger than life. Heroism. Inspiration. Hope.
Jaime and Esteban were looking at him, their expressions mirror images of expectation. Maybe they’d seen something in his face.
He’d pushed himself out of his easy chair, stood. “You boys are welcome to stay here for the night, if you’d like.”
“We would,” Jaime had said. “Thank you so much.”
“I’m going to bed. Give the fire a poke every now and then.” He had headed toward the stairs, paused, looked back. “You said you were looking for work?”
“Could be that I have some for you. We’ll talk in the morning.”
No updates for Write Club.
Movin’ on . . .
|Originally published at Matthew S. Rotundo's Pixeltown|