writing

Work goes forward on the novel. 1500 words so far, a little chunk that fits into the book early on, just after (sort of during) the riot at the gallery. Once the Redmond lunch-time traffic has died down, I’ll go reward myself with an Italian soda.

Here’s a teaser, still very rough:

She was a tall woman with gleaming gold hair, obscured beneath a dark cloak. She tried to shrug the woolen fabric more securely around her shoulders, but it caught on obstructions beneath, and half swung away to reveal feathers the same color as her hair.

“Lookie, lookie, look,” said a voice from behind her. She swung, almost dizzy with panic to see several figures step out towards her from the deeper darkness between two refuse heaps.

She stood between the dull red bricks of two enormous warehouses. Chalked scrawls, melting in the misty rain in luminous trails, marked the lower walls ““ political slogans rendered illegible by moisture. A strip of moonlight marked the middle, a narrow path barely large enough to contain Glyndia. Midnight edged the sides of her cloak.