This is probably the best writing day I’ve had since those first couple days of the month. I was actually thinking about squeezing another thousand words in before midnight, considering I managed the last 500 in roughly ten minutes, but decided to save those words for after midnight ticks over so I’ve got some momentum in the scene I’m currently writing.
I’m in a tiny lull between massive plot points, but I do think it’s an important section even if it’s not as exciting as what comes before and after. The scene I’m currently writing is important for character relationships and tying up some dangling plot threads. I actually like these kinds of lull periods the best while writing, I think. Fewer expectations and more room to let things breathe. I don’t know what I’m talking about, but it sounds smart.
My usual Twitter behaviour:
Tweeted this in the early hours of this morning, right after I finished chapter 18. Because sleeping at normal times is for chumps:
#1LineWed: Theme is “stubborn”
The excerpt I’ve chosen is part of a conversation between Tesana and her mother late in the novel, which I’m still in the middle of writing:
Mother takes my hand. “Shall we talk, Tesana? We have much to discuss.”
We leave Father to whatever worrying thoughts he has and head to Eira’s room. She’s gone out for a walk with Huntsman for a bit, so it’s the best place to speak privately for the moment.
“You have yet to tell us the story of how we all woke up,” Mother says, sitting on Eira’s bed.
“Everything has been hectic,” I reply. Which is true—I feel like I haven’t stopped moving since I woke up from my hundred-year sleep—but I haven’t exactly looked forward to telling my parents about Eira. That is, if they haven’t figured it out already. They have enough evidence, but there was a lot happening at the time.
“Was it that Eira girl?”
I should’ve known better than to think anything would escape my mother’s notice for long. I nod.
“She seems nice… for a thief.”
And yet another thing I am not excited to discuss: the fact my girlfriend is a criminal. I don’t know how to make that palatable to my mother, given that I mostly try not to think about it, which is perhaps not the best way to handle our circumstances.
“It’s all she’s ever known,” I say. “Her father had few opportunities as a child and the thieves guild was one of the few places that could help him survive. It seems many of our less fortunate must resort to extreme methods just to stay alive, even back in the days when we held the power.”
“You have thought about this.”
“You do have a point. I don’t like it, but I understand not everyone has the same opportunities we have. Had.” Mother sighs, gazing around the little room. “You said this is Eira’s room?”
“She’s been gone a year,” I remind her. The tiny room has been hastily wiped down with a damp cloth—apparently dusting is particularly unpleasant this far underground—and the sheets were replaced with fresh ones, but the clothes in her drawers have remained untouched. Eira took one look at them last night, declared she was too tired to even think about washing them and fell into bed instead.
Mother is in a nosy mood. She sticks her head in the skinny closet and sorts through the few gowns hanging there.
“Some of these are quite fine,” she says.
“They’re mostly gifts,” I reply. “Apparently the guild maintains relationships with a few of the merchant princes well enough that they know the guildmaster has a daughter.” Eira hasn’t told me too much about the guild, but she did drop bits and pieces during our time in the dream together.
“The merchant princes have better taste than I expected.” She winces at a shocking pink gown right in the corner, too pink even for me… and I love pink. “Except for whoever sent that one.” She crosses to the dressing table.
“Mother,” I complain.
“What? I’d like to learn everything I can about the girl who stole my daughter’s heart.” She grins at me. “Was that a good joke? She’s a thief, and she stole your… never mind. You clearly inherited your father’s sense of humour.”