Newsletter- September 20, 2022

Despite all odds, work figured out a way to get worse. I still can’t talk about it, but it’ll be good for a memoir someday.

I broke our dryer vent this week! My family was not pleased. I bought one of those over-the-counter dryer vent cleaning kits, and snapped the brush off three turns and about 10 feet into the vent. I didn’t realize the absurd path our vent takes through the house (which also explains why it was so ineffective as a vent). It’s like I’m living in a steampunk novel. Anyway, I had to cut into the sheetrock, and I’ve engineered a better way to clean the vent going forward, though I’m waiting on parts for final re-assembly. All that to say… I didn’t write much this week!

If you read my non-writing updates, you know to keep your expectations low for this section. But, here goes….

Elliah spent the week stuck in the tail end of, then recovery from, a basilisk attack. I don’t know if I have a problem behind my own exhaustion, but the pacing is too slow to get to the “ultimate problem.” The Guardian of The Palace suffered from a similar problem. I may solve it this time, but I may do it by making the book longer. We shall see.

Snippet of the week (am I ruining the story for you?):

Hughelas didn’t have the decency to blush. Instead, he smirked, and I recognized in that moment, that despite his pain, despite the open wound of his forearm with its swollen flesh, he attempted to put me at ease with humor and distractions. He knew I worried. Maybe more than I’d admitted to myself. Everyone almost died, leaving me on my own. I was exhausted, scared, lost.

My mind went blank… or maybe it filled up. Whatever it did, the next thing I knew, my mouth was locked on his, a purring hum coming from nowhere. I gasped, coming up for air, wondering how long I had been... preoccupied.

I pulled away, ashamed, embarrassed, and confused. Through lowered lids, I stole a look at Hughelas. He turned his head from side to side, looking intently into the woods.

I blushed—he was looking anywhere but at me.

“Have you seen any more basilisks?” he asked.

I shook my head no, too embarrassed to speak. What had I done?

“Too bad,” he said, affixing his eyes to mine, forcing my dropped gaze to meet his. “I was hoping to get my other arm flayed and earn a second kiss like that one.”

o To-Do list for writing last week: