*Looks up from intense back edits* Oh, hi! Is it Wednesday again? *clean her specs on her shirt tail and stretches out the kinks*
All right then, let’s do this.
So, what am I working on? Surrogate: Hunted. I’m in my final back edits before it goes off to the best editor I know at the first of July. After that, it’s off to an editor at Supposed Crimes. That said, Hunted is officially out of WIP play, (it’s listed as coming soon at Supposed Crimes) *happy dance* I’ll be sharing from another WIP for Wippet Wednesday from now forward. Welcome to Surrogate: Traditions. The manuscript has hit the land of rewrites, so I’m comfortable sharing snippets.
Here’s this week’s math:
The numbers – 062117
My calculation choices: 6 x 21 = 126 + 170 = 296 words from Chapter One, “Aftermath,” with enough added to complete the paragraph.
Dead or gone. Gone or dead. Etain Ixtii slumped against the foot of the bed, her head between her knees. The life she’d known, most everything she’d come to value since living on Takran— gone, gone, gone. But her heart still beat despite the pain. Alyward workers like Etain were built to succeed in adverse conditions, and— is anyone besides us still alive?
“Etain, you…you there?” The weak, female human voice— it meant life. Mercine Feney had been a part of Etain’s circle longer than anyone.
“Coming.” Etain wiped away the tears that wouldn’t fall, kicked aside the empty water bottles, and crawled onto the bed to sit beside Merch. “You thirsty?”
“No.” But Merch still drank when Etain lifted her head and held a bottle to her mouth. Their tiny, hidden room reeked of sweat, vomit, and so much rotting flesh. Etain had wrapped Merch’s left forearm and placed it the bathroom’s deepest cabinet, but the sweet stench had still managed to escape. “Can you turn on…the light? Please?”
“All right.” Etain felt her way to the control panel and fumbled with the switches until a single, wall-mounted light flickered then cut on, low and steady.
Merch squinted as she looked Etain up and down. “Damn, baby, you look like…like shit.”
“You are no prize right now either, Dae Flynae.” Etain raised her brows at her human imma. A precious, best friend, confidant, and sometimes lover. Etain had long thought immas were the best part of being an Alyward woman.
“You don’t…like my…new look?” Merch’s laugh turned into a deep, fluidic cough. “We’ve got to get out of…of here soon.”
“I know.” Etain sat on the bed’s edge. Dresh and Leigheas had sworn they’d come for them when things had calmed, but it’d been quiet since day three.
* WIPpet Wednesday is a blog hop wherein writers share excerpts of their latest WIP. All genres and levels of accomplishment are welcome. The only stipulation is that the excerpt must coincide with the date in some manner. For example, on 10/8/14 you might share 10 lines from page 8, 8 paragraphs from chapter 14, or perhaps 18 sentences by doing WIPpet Math and adding the day to the month. We’re flexible like that