Yup, it's NaNo again, which means...I don't have an actual blog post. Nothing profound to say because I'm pounding the keyboard to get half of this draft done by the end of the month. Planning to try to keep up the pace through May to finish it, but we'll see. My brain is usually pretty done at the end of NaNo.
I'm working on the third draft of Acktorek Book 2: The Vanished. It's going pretty well, I think I've finally figured out some things that didn't make sense before, and I'm looking forward to seeing how this all plays out.
Not every day has been amazing, but I've managed to stay ahead so far this time and write every day. Which is rare. Reaaaally hoping to get that "update your word count every day" badge.
Follow my Instagram for my progress...I've been posting my word count almost every day in my story with little updates. But here's what we're looking like right now. (Technically, these screenshots are from yesterday.)
Here, have a snippet.
I pull a flat square out of my backpack and look around for a place to stick it. The sensor will bond to any surface, so that’s not a problem. But it’s not so hardy that if people constantly walk into it or if something falls on it, it won’t be damaged. It’s sensitive equipment. Problem is, I’m not really all that sure the storefront won’t fall over, or at least that the poor excuse for an awning won’t collapse on top of wherever I put it.“Is you ’ere from Acktorek?”My gaze snaps to the speaker: an unbearably thin girl with skimpy, shimmery red braids and dirt smeared over her dark face. Her dress is so tattered and patched and stained it’s impossible to tell what color it used to be. Somehow she looks bright and hopeful. And definitely the friendliest person I’ve seen here. She can’t be any older than six. Which puts her squarely in the risk category. From what factors we know. I know we’re missing something crucial. Hopefully something that excludes this little girl. I don’t like the way my heart constricts looking at her.“Yes, I am.” I do my best to answer her calmly and gently, mostly trusting my translator will get that across. “My partner and I are here to help you. My name is Emma.”“Me name’s Gia. What’s that?” She points a bony finger at the sensor.“This . . .” I hesitate, not sure how to explain it to her. Then I just lower my hand so Gia can get a better look. “This will, um, sense what’s happening around here so we can figure out why people are disappearing.” If we knew what we’re looking for. Hopefully it’s obvious. Though I don’t really want more kids to have to vanish just so we can figure it out.