ext_27872 (
el-staplador.livejournal.com) wrote in
picowrimo2015-06-13 05:58 am
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Pico day 13
I'm away with work for the next couple of days. There is alleged to be wi-fi, but if I fail to get the posts up within a reasonable time please do someone feel free to step in.
Here is the post for any comments, snippets or thoughts.
May the magic be with us all!
Here is the post for any comments, snippets or thoughts.
May the magic be with us all!
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A couple of hundred words on the train north - I'm not going to type the whole lot up now, as I neglected to bring the memory stick with the document on, but here's a little snippet:
It took me a long time to get to sleep. Long after Jay and Emma had stopped whispering about how well the bus was running, long after Helen had fallen into a snuffly slumber, I lay awake, smelling the wood and paint and dust, snuggling deep into my sleeping bag and trying to ignore the chill that had settled into my bones, Carmen and Turandot and West Side Story running through my head, all mixed up with the excited contentment of the long day on the road, and with my conversation with Emma.
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I can feel all the pieces swirling in your narrator's head and a burgeoning attachment. "Excited contentment" is a great description of that feeling.
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I love this snippet. I have difficulty getting to sleep, and this is just what happens - lying there aware of everything, with songs looping, tangled with bits of conversation from the day. How nice to know it's mixed up with the excited contentment of the day.
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A great description of that lying in bed and thoughts churning feeling.
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Terminus, Chapter 7
Excerpt:
In which they are trying to figure out what happened to Rina and the security guy, Burke.
The security officers were watching the proceedings in bewilderment.
“Why do you want to know where the other Vulcans have been in the last hour or so?” Aron finally asked.
“Because the bruises to Ensign Rina’s trapezoid muscle are characteristic for the trauma caused by the technique that humans have nicknamed the Vulcan neck pinch,” Selar answered calmly.
The humans stared at her somewhat shocked, but she continued on with her deductions unerringly.
“Logic dictates therefore that one of my own kind should be the primary suspect. However,” she gestured at the viewscreen, “this movement pattern shows that none of the resident Vulcans have been in that particular turbolift cabin in the last forty minutes.”
“Vulcans aren’t the only ones capable of using the neck pinch, though,” Tallman said in a tone that suggested that she, too, would be able to do so.
RE: Terminus, Chapter 7
I particularly like that last line. Don't feel too superior, at least on that score, Vulcan one!
RE: Terminus, Chapter 7
RE: Terminus, Chapter 7
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RE: Terminus, Chapter 7
This is great: bewildered humans, calm Selar, Tallman's cryptic line! Good job!
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RE: Terminus, Chapter 7
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RE: Terminus, Chapter 7
This is a good scene, I like the differing personalities on display, cool deduction, a bit of pride :)
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RE: Terminus, Chapter 7
Re: Terminus, Chapter 7
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No typing up, but I'll get to that eventually.
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Yay, the cold does have its literary uses, I picked on the current
sentinel_thurs prompt and have managed 700 words today! Should be able to keep going tomorrow (there's nothing like fellow feeling, my darling Blair has a mother of a head cold way worse than mine :) as it doesn't have to be very long...
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I did also revise the complete, plot-moving scene from the other day. Deleted some stuff, swapped a few words around. So, a little snip of that ~
***
“Yes, of course,” Mr Amar said, gesturing to the seats. “I’m shocked, but I suppose I shouldn’t be.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll only be a moment.”
“Forgery,” John murmured, when Amar had left the room.
“Fingerprints,” Sherlock replied.
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...The man roosted in the tower of a crumbling old mansion the new campus had swallowed whole and never got around to digesting. The tower’s marble facing was long gone but I could see why the guy might like the place. His office was an octagon, with tall bookcases taking up four of the walls and picture windows looking out in all four directions. There were four neat little balconies with resident pigeons in case the sun ever made an appearance. If he’d had one of those swivel chairs you could have seen the old town’s red tiles and the grey-blue slates of the commercial quarter and the pale marble towers of the palace perched up on its knoll and the tall masts of the merchant ships docked in the bay, all without bothering to get up. I’d have swivelled round and round and round and never got a shred of work done.
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Tomorrow I must put my writing first or it won't get done. We're going on vacation - I'll have lots of writing time once we get there, but I don't want to take a chance of not getting to it. I have to pack my things and all the supplies while Rick mows the lawn and puts the kayak on the roof of the car. Then we're off to the north woods. No internet access until we return next Saturday, except a horrible G3 connection via my telephone. I'll try to check in each day, at least to wave hello:)
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