This week's summary - Physical discomfort even worse. Query trenches even more of a bummer. I think there may be lice now. (In the query trenches. Not for real. Ew.)
Everything I was obsessed with this week.
Because I know you want to know.
1. Sleep. I'm fantasizing about sleep. Whenever I try to sleep, I can't. Not well, anyway. But I can't exactly take naps during the day. So, it's a vicious cycle. By 8 every night, I'm completely exhausted, and even if I stay in bed till 5, I haven't had nearly enough sleep.
I'm actually wondering if there are resorts or spas or something where I can just spend the whole weekend in a sensory deprivation chamber. Or maybe drugged. Or perpetually drunk. Or....Well, anyway. A girl can [day]dream.
For the trouble of listening to me whine, here is a sleeping puppy.
Who said reading this blog was fruitless, huh?
2. "Sinner's Sonnet" by Andrew Whitman
This song came up on Spotify and, God help me, it just SOUNDED like Elias (the boyfriend from my querying MS) to me. A little sad and a little epic but mostly pretty chill and sweet. And then I decided that if I ever do write TWO, it'll be in his viewpoint. And then I actually started thinking about what the plot of Two would be and ignoring Chrome. And then...
Urgh. Yeah. Just blame this song. Which I'm still playing over and over and over and over...
3. Crushed Ice.
My obsession with fountain soda, I've decided, actually just boils down to my obsession with the ICE INSIDE the fountain soda.
I bought an ice crusher yesterday. I didn't bother to do the math about how many times I'd have to buy a fountain drink for it to pay for itself. I just...yeah. Obsessed.
Aaaaand the WiP.
Here's a snip I wrote LAST week about when Havah gets knocked out while visiting the Iver. Oops.
It was true. They did only care about Laila.
Her arm trembled, loosely, like one of the bions’ bands that let the cold metal of their joints move. She pushed it up, moving her body from the ground. Her head fought the upward motion, begged to pull her body down with every throb of her heart.
“She wakes,” The girl whispered, drawing close to her.
The man leaned in and snarled in her ear. “The difference is that our bodies bleed. We’d dirty your shiny clothing.”
“Mar,” the girl murmured, “What if she is someone? Someone from the palace? Besides, look at her. She fears.”
Then there was no shine, no vision, no concrete. Nothing heavy, nothing light. Nothing but black.