Friday Metrics and Writing Homework

[loaded_march]

I... have more words?

Yeah, there's been a spectacular failure to keep track of word count this week.  All of my writing has been done in snatches and grabs -- instead of at breaks or at lunchtime in a good chunk, it was five minutes here, fifteen minutes there, maybe twenty if I were really pushing my luck.  See, I'm working on a time-critical experiment in a restricted-access lab, and going in and out is a pain, because it involves putting on a Tyvek suit like this one but not really (because, cheesy, flirty pose aside -- and no, that is not me -- there's so many things wrong with that picture on a health-and-safety level that it isn't even funny).  It's just easier to stay in the lab for longer stretches of time to get shit done.  The downside is that as soon as I step out, I'm mauled by angry bears lab rats mutated zombies needy colleagues, and I end up with less piss off so that I can write time.

But I have 10 parts for sure, and this is a guaranteed minimum 50K, but is probably actually a little bit more because I keep going back to earlier parts to add more words.  So, at this point?  I've completely lost track.  Sorry.


In other news, because while I kinda like being locked up in a restricted access lab, the work I'm doing kills brain cells a little bit, so I kind-of sort-of didn't do a whole lot of homework this week.  On two days, I wrote little blurby things for book two of an original fiction thing that I'm not going to share because, well, original fiction, and who cares about that when there's fanfic! I didn't write anything today because I used up my last creative reserves to write a bitchslap email so subtle, no one but the person on the receiving end will realize there's a bitchslap.


Anyway, the two homework assignments I am sharing may or may not be related.  I haven't decided yet. 




ONE (Scene)

"We're losing pressure," Gwaine said.

Merlin shot him a quick glance before buckling into the pilot's chair.  The chair rolled forward automatically, and Merlin's fingers moved by rote over the console.  Other than the blast damage to the aft shields, there weren't any alerts on the screen.

"Where?"

"Wait for it," Gwaine said.  The engineer was insufferably calm, as usual; his fingers drummed against a panel.

Merlin glared at him.  Gwaine always did this -- he waited for the alarms to go off before he got up off his arse to fix it -- whatever it was.  Merlin didn't understand why Gwaine never went to take care of the problem before it became a problem like a normal person.

Sure enough, the venting alert flashed a few seconds later.  Merlin flicked the switch to mute it just as a second alert -- this one blaring a warning klaxon in accompaniment -- flashed on the overhead.

"Shite.  Brace for impact," Merlin said.  He hit the intercom.  "Brace!"



TWO (Dialogue)

"You're a pirate," Arthur said.

"How did you know?"

"Lucky guess," Arthur said, gesturing to Merlin's shirt.  Merlin glanced down.  The laser-screened PIRATE logo glittered over a Jolly Rogers watermark on a concert T-shirt that Lance had bought him during their last shipside.

"Oh, this," Merlin said.  "No, this is from a band.  Very hot on Argos IV.  Good music.  Cute boys."

"So you're not a pirate?"

"No, actually, I am," Merlin admitted.  He raised his gun.

Comments

[giraffatrolli.livejournal.com]

Yeah, and I left out the part where the doctor all but chuckled while relaying a story of a poor woman who'd battled warts _down-there_ many years before meeting her husband, only to have them reappear, prompting infidelity accusations... So yeah.

The freezing bit sounded pretty lame to me too, but I've found the pain depends on the doc. I've met a very 'considerate' doc, who obviously preferred doing just a little at a time (hello repeat business!), but way-back-when I met a doc who was entirely ruthless and got it in one. And that was painful. Very.