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ursulav

Connective Tissue

I am prone to writing scenes at the end of works in progress and then filling in connective tissue later, if at all. So far it’s going well–got from point C to point D, and point A to point B, and now if I can just get B and C to line up, we’re good. Although so far the connective tissues is a lot of talking-about-what-we-are-going-to-do and not many swashes have been buckled, so I don’t know how that’s going to hold up. May have to have somebody fall into a pit. You can never go wrong with pits.

And I think I found about 700 words that are just plain maundering around and need to die, though I’ll keep ‘em around at the end in case I find the hole they want to fit in.

 

Best lines so far:

“You’re wanted by a crime lord!” said Caliban.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” snapped Slate. “And that was years ago! He’s probably forgotten.”

“Oh no,” said Brenner. “Dearie, dearie me, no. You don’t forget being jilted at the altar because you just handed the priest a warrant for your arrest on the charges of horse-buggering.”

“I am curious,” said Learned Edmund, “as to how you actually managed it. There are seals on a warrant, as I understand it, and those are kept entirely by the judiciary.” He steepled his fingers. “Even assuming that the entire thing was prepared in advance, you would still need access to the seals—“

Slate’s grin broke through, and she beamed at Edmund. “Thank you. I have been waiting for five years for somebody to appreciate that.”

 

 

And I finished the illustrations for Dragonbreath 9. (pant, pant, pant.)

Wordcount: 5700

Originally published at Tea with the Squash God. You can comment here or there.

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"His own warrant" still does not perfectly clarify why "your arrest" should not be "his arrest". But I suppose that's what buying the book is for.

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