ah, progress!

[zanzjan]

Well, getting that scene finally finished unwedged a lot of other stuff that was dependent on it, and I've fixed the continuity problem that was a result of fixing an earlier pacing problem (sigh) and I now have a single, solid chunk of fairly acceptable first draft again.

The flesh-eating bacteria story now sits at (brace yourself) 22,000 words. I have a sense that I can expect to add at least another 10k to it, which would leave me with a story of godsawful inconvenient length. But hey, it is what it is; I find I work much better adjusting things up or down after I have a finished draft, rather than trying to write to a specific length in advance. This is probably because of my Special Secret Ninja Writing Technique, which I like to call "Making All This Shit Up As I Go Along".

So, yeah, I'm not even going to guess at % done, because if it's less than 50% I think I might cry.

Excerpty for you!

He followed the sounds of raised voices into the infirmary itself. Dr. Martin was sitting on the floor clutching his head and swearing. There was blood seeping between his fingers where his hands were pressed to his scalp. Kyle was rummaging through the freezer, emerging a moment later with two icepacks; when he turned, Ray could see he had a split lip and some redness and swelling on his face, probably a black eye in the making. Julie Hemingway, the base engineer, sat on a table in her usual white tank-top and short ponytail, arms folded across her chest, watching Dr. Martin warily. Kyle dropped one of the ice-packs unceremoniously on the floor beside the scientist, then gingerly touched the other to his cheek and winced. "You missed all the action, Ray," he said. "So it seems. What happened?" "Crazy, drunk bastard wanted me to fly him out of here, all the way over to Lunar Two. Didn't want to take 'No' for an answer." "I just want to go home," Dr. Martin said, picking up the ice-pack as he felt around the back of his head with the other hand. "I'm no good here, not like this. Send me home, Ray. You've got to order Kyle to take me to another base so I can go home." "See?" Kyle said. "He wouldn't listen to me, started yelling at me and grabbed my shirt." "So you punched him?" "No. He punched me." "And then you punched him back?" "No, and then I hit him with a chair," Julie said. "Was that necessary?" She shrugged. "It was sufficient."