picowrimo | Pico, Day 15

AND IT'S SENT! Wahooooo!

More editing today, fixing up changes due to the New Idea.

A few more words, before I realised I needed to do a bit more research and the info on the wiki wasn't good (contradictory and unclear). No time to do that around packing/tidying this evening before going away tomorrow, but the books are on my kindle, so I can hopefully check at some point and keep going on the story while I'm away.

A little over 100 new words today. Picking up where we left off before:

"He's right, you know," Linda said, the hint of a smile playing across her face.

"About what?" Edward climbed over the stile, then turned and offered his hand to assist Linda.

"You. Over-thinking things. Although," Linda paused, evidently considering what she planned to say. "It is good to see you trusting someone else to take charge."

"I trust his skills." Edward was aware Christophe was outpacing them, but also mindful that Linda had gone over on her ankle earlier, and wasn't doing as good a job as she thought at concealing her discomfort. She'd need to ice it as soon as she got out of those sturdy walking boots. "And there's no need to smirk at me like that, either. Say what you mean, why don't you?"

"You like him. He's good for you."

"Christophe and I go way back," Edward said. "But I can hardly expect him to settle down, just because I've got some stability in my life these days."

"Have you asked him?"

Still having lots of fun in Linz. The entry about our day in my journal is the only thing I wrote today.

Didn't do well the last day or so, work has been feral (this is the last week before a big deadline, and all my Esteemed Customers seem to have lost their Esteemed Marbles) but a got a handful of paragraphs written or rewritten...

It wouldn't help with his temper, never all that great and already fraying a little with the gloom, the silence, the emptiness, the not knowing what had happened, the not knowing what to do. Rodney, like Radek (if he was honest) and most of his people, always had the worst of problems with not knowing.
When the not knowing would be compounded by hunger and thirst... things could get ugly as only Rodney knew how.

Writing and pico have fallen by the wayside for various reasons in the last couple of weeks, but tonight I was back in the saddle with 800 words of fic. The end cannot be far away (at least I really hope so!).

*

Harriet was enjoying herself. It had scarcely escaped her attention during previous interviews that Inspector Umplety was considerably more deferential to, and interested in the opinions of, Lord Peter Wimsey, wealthy criminologist, than Miss Harriet Vane, novelist of dubious repute.

Only a little writing, but some more thinking about how things will, hopefully, tie together.

***

John shut the front door quickly. “That was a very good decoy job Mrs Hudson just did.”

“Yes. That feather-on-a-string thing was an astute purchase on her part,” Sherlock replied. “Gray might have been an asset if we were looking to engage people seated outside in conversation, but tonight it’s listening we need to do and inside the pub is where we need to do it.”

“Pity they won’t have any food this late. I’m starving again,” John said. “It was so busy at the surgery, I forgot about lunch until it was nearly time to go home.”

They eased past the crowd of smokers on the pavement. Sherlock swept his glance over each one as he held the door open for John. “I’ll order olives,” Sherlock said.

While working on the fic today, I realized I actually have a lot of the elements I need written. What I need to do is find the right structure and I have some ideas. So I've been spending time cutting and pasting and bridging and figuring out what goes together and what doesn't. Yes, yes, a messy way to work but I seem to do it fairly often... This is the beginning of the scene that will come just before yesterday's musings from Angelique.

Marguerite waved away the tea and took a glass of Côtes du Rhône instead. She cast a quick glance at Madeleine and saw she was occupied with the pastry tray. She leaned towards Anouk. "I heard Harry made an unexpected appearance. I'm sorry I missed him, it's been an age. That man always knew how to cause a commotion."

"He will not be back," Anouk replied calmly.

"And your pretty Russian, I didn't see him yesterday evening. Did Harry chase him away?"

Anouk's smile was private, feline. She picked up her own glass. "Some wines need to mature before they're sampled, don't you agree?"

Slow progress, but progress. Posted about the setting for the 30 Days meme. About 160 words, some editing yesterday's, some going onwards. This is shortly after yesterday's snippet, trying to find even vaguely interesting ways of describing snow...

...A neat wedge like icing sugar dusted over crossed swords had crept in at the window where one of the shutters had warped enough they didn’t close. The snow that had stomped in through the roof hatch without bothering to take his boots off was more like yesterday’s porridge turned out in the slops bucket. Hard to tell in the dark with an inch of guttering candle but the gate-crasher looked to have snapped a couple of rotten roof battens on his way to the party. Guess I was lucky it was just snowmelt that’d been drilling into my cheek.

105 new words tonight!

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