The End is Near . . . or is it?

Wow, thanks for the comments, guys.

The end of this novel is so close, yet so far away. A chapter and a half to go. Really, like a chapter and half of a very long scene. That’s the problem with finishing this book—the LONG scenes. The end is so near, but I swear it’s still a million words away.

Come to me, my precious. I won’t hurt you, just finish you, and then torture you with revisions. ;)

It’s become clear to me through writing group that some of my beginning chapters need some tummy-tucks and face-lifts. I’m not quite sure what body part to start on, but that’s probably because I have yet to devote much time to thinking about it. MUST FINISH BOOK.

And I have an awesome reveal coming up that keeps getting pushed back by the scenes that NEVER END.

But even if they don’t, this blog post will. :D


Excerpt of the day:

Pressing her face to the cold stone, Teague wept without tears. Kitsy, she thought. They did this to her, too.

The small water bowl in the corner had been filled, but Teague didn’t drink. She held still, willing herself to disappear into the stone. If she didn’t move, it didn’t hurt as much. The cuts, the slashes, the burns, the bruises. She had cried. She had screamed and pleaded, but she hadn’t said a word. She knew little about where Scire and his child hid in the mountains, but she uttered none of it, and for that she was proud.
Weirs, chapter 20