Day 16 (Team July)

[wiseheart.livejournal.com]

My heartfelt thanks to elmey for taking over the duties while I was enjoying the beauties of North Germany.

Here's today's prompt for your writing updates and for any extracts, thoughts, or comments you might have.

Keep the fires burning! :))

Comments

Lightning Bolt

[vilakins.livejournal.com]

I managed 207 words at lunchtime. I was planning on adding more this evening but the housework I didn't do on Sunday and cooking up a killer chilli (dinner and two lunches taken care of, yay) used up all my spare time.

(for June and July)

A certain Bercol and Rontane have come to visit Servalan.

An excerpt:

Bercol? He was still head of the Information Bureau and as such was the former boss of Anna / Sula / Bartolomew or whatever she was choosing to call herself now, which was presumably why he had managed to keep his position. And of course there was Rontane, where Bercol was, there was usually Secretary Rontane. Ex-Secretary Rontane that is, since Servalan had acquired her own series of assistants (regrettably one had to have so many of them killed) when she had taken over the presidency. Those two were an almost inseparable pair. Odd really considering the difference in political position, but perhaps love made strange bedfellows.

[ideealisme.livejournal.com]

Well, I can haz synopsis, in rough draft of 2,600 words.

BUT it's too long, and it's too rough, and it exposes a big weak spot in the plot, and Lord there is too much going on. Really a rather brutal if necessary wake-up call.

I've a way to go yet.

[jenn-calaelen.livejournal.com]

~1000 words on the Firiel story, although I expect that I may well end up cutting it as it is a very long introduction for several minor characters and depending on if they become important later I might not want all of this.

Firiel interviews possible ladies
"This is Morwen, she is a cousin to Arvedui."
"Your daughter?"
"No, the daughter of my younger sister. It was her sister who was to marry your brother."
Morwen showed the true features of her Dunedain blood, tall with dark hair and grey eyes - Firiel wondered if they would look like sisters to outsiders.
"Then you will be doubly family to me. Please sit." Firiel poured her tea as she sat down.
"Thank you. It is good to meet you. I longed to travel south with my sister, but would love to hear about it from you. Is it true that there are still Elves who visit Minas Anor?" She sipped her tea, possibly in an attempt to stop her questions.
"Yes, on occasion. They have one of their Havens on the coast of Belfalas, and sometimes visit the city, especially for important events. Some of them love to visit in summer for the balls - most of them are Sindar Elves and love the parties outside for they do not like to be within stone walls for long."
"How wonderful!"
"Are you a scholar?"
"In truth, no. I would love to be, but I have not had the time. I do handle the accounts and correspondence at home, but I have read every book my family own, and as many as I can from the library here. I love to learn more whenever the opportunity is there."
"You will be most welcome here among my ladies, and I hope we will have many opportunities to talk more of Elves and of Gondor."
"Thank you," she said and smiled widely. "I am honoured."

[el-staplador.livejournal.com]

I keep getting sidetracked by interesting things on the internet, and real life, and all that sort of thing. This is almost all that I have written today:

--------

I changed the subject. 'Tell me, then. What news? I rely on you, Theresa.'

'Well -' She sat up, and fidgeted with the book on her lap. 'Have you heard about the little Countess of Andersheim?'

'Baby Luise? What about her?'

'Scarlet fever,' Theresa said gravely, crossing herself. 'She is not expected to live.'

'Oh! -' I stopped, torn between two conflicting feelings – concern for the poor child, who, after all, could not help her parentage or her protector, and a guilty relief.

Theresa was looking at me with an understanding that surprised me, though I suppose it ought not have done. 'I know. One doesn't like a child to suffer – and yet, Alexander von Winterstadt!'

'If he's red, he's right,' I quoted with some irony. 'Well, at this juncture it ought not to matter – from the point of view of the succession, I mean – but still...'

And, because there was no safe way to continue the conversation, and because Theresa evidently wanted to return to her book, I made an excuse, and left.

[stevie-carroll.livejournal.com]

Heirs and Graces

Phase 3 -- July's writing:



Lots going on today, so I only managed two paragraphs:

The flight left at four. Edward held Rupert until they heard the final call for boarding, promising his son that they wouldn't be apart forever, and that he would always have the best of everything. As soon as Consolata took the child from him, he walked straight back to the car – a sunshine yellow Fiat 500 that she'd had far less enthusiasm for than he'd expected – and drove it to the nearest dealer's forecourt.

He bought a Moto Guzzi with the money from the Fiat. If it got him back to England in one piece, he'd be able to sell it for a reasonable profit. There was little in the flat that he wanted, and the next occupants were welcome to the television, but he parcelled up his clothes and a few other items to post back to London. He slid the photographs of Rupert into the side-pocket of one saddle bag, and tucked the christening mug that Consolata had somehow forgotten to pack inside an old blanket in the main compartment of the other. Then he headed for the mountains.

[wiseheart.livejournal.com]

Not done any writing today... again. I guess I'm still too tired from having travelled twice eighteen hours by train within a week. Plus, there are all those pesky DVDs I absolutely must watch, you understand. But I'll try to get into the mood again tomorrow, I promise.