Furthermore...

[desperance]

I just posted over in writefantastic, about how I have struggled to have forty-eight hours off, and am now capitulating in order to start the new book.

Yup. How sad this is, he can't survive two days without a megaproject to angst about. But! New book! New series! Whole new world!

First line, this or thisabouts:

They called the fog Her breath, the Dragon-in-Chains'.

How could I conceivably not want to go on and write the second line, from that? I mean, the book's not ready to write yet, the stock's barely begun to bubble and the beans are hard as bullets and the meat is tough as shoe-leather; but if I wait till I feel prepared I'll wait for ever. I can read and write, consecutaneously; and even think a little, if I need to. And this scene is ready. The yellow fog that rubs its muzzle on the windowpane, that is very ready.

And yes, it has dragons innit. And no, they are not metaphorical.

And yes, this is one of my Taiwan books. I shall be juggling them with both hands shortly.

And now I am going to feed the cat, because it is his tea-time; and then I shall begin. Wish me luck.

Comments

[desperance.livejournal.com]

"Consecutaneously"?

Really? O______________O?

Oh, phooey. I neologised. Don't give me a hard time, it's exact: minute by minute I do the one thing or the other, hence they are consecutive; day by day and week by week I am doing both of them at once, hence they are simultaneous. Consecutaneous. I am brilliant; behold me shine.

Also, I'm glad you like the line. There is a short-but-proud list of books that open in a fog; I intend to add to it.

[mantichore.livejournal.com]

> Oh, phooey. I neologised.

I did infer as much. But it's still hard to pronounce trippingly on the tongue! ^_______^