The truth of the matter is, I have nothing from a current WIP to share.
Is that a big enough sad face for you?
I’ve been making some progress on EoD, but most everything I’d like to share is too spoilery. Dachus and Janni haven’t talked to me this week. And I haven’t settled on another actual WIP to take Driev’s place. Which may turn out to be another Coinblade Chronicles tale because I have many scenes written.
But I can’t really leave you with nothing, can I? That wouldn’t be very nice of me. Nor would I be setting a good example as Exalted High Pooba of this shindig. So I’ve decided I’ll give you one paragraph for the first of October from page one of something that is high up on my could-soon-be-a-real-WIP pile. It is, of course, a fantasy. This one is more in the vein of the old sword & sorcery types. The MC is Roe Gild Fingers, a young woman who makes her living as a thief, among other things. She has been pondering gutters, and what is to be found in them, because of something she’s found. Not having ever ventured out of her own city, she has only the word of other travelers–such as Rovers–as to what can be found elsewhere.
In contrast, that same Rover told Roe the cities of the Unclean didn’t even have gutters. Roe found that hard to believe. After all, where there were streets, there were gutters. Foot in boot, as old Wisen would say. And though she imagined many carcasses found their way to all of them, she would hazard a guess none boasted the not-quite-a-carcass-yet that Roe currently studied from a safe distance. Drunks often landed in the gutter. And dead men. The man sprawled there now did not fit either of those descriptions. Nor did he wear enough clothing for the season. You couldn’t tell from looking at him now, because the great fur cloak covered even the red stain spreading across the snow beneath him, but Roe had watched him stumble down the street until he fell, first to his knees, then onto his face, like some great tree slowly toppling, so she knew he wore no shirt. Leather breeks and boots were all the cloak concealed.
There you have it. Who knows what I’ll have for you next week.
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