I had to release my self-imposed deadline to the winds sometime around Sunday. As I stood hip deep in my wip, I realized that in the process of making the whole thing better, I was making specific parts worse. That's when the hacksaw came out and words were flying into the recycle bin like there was no tomorrow.
I don't have a final count for all that I cut, but it was easily more than 5k. So, I have something to show for all of those lattes, but it's not what I was hoping to have. But that's the way it goes.
BUT! On the topic of deadlines I *did* manage to meet, I have two finished products to present.
One - The November edition of the cello VLog, in which I discuss the relationship between the cello and Greek Myth (sort of).
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Two - My first solo short story on Tangled Fiction. I'm thinking there should be a clever name for our solo stories like Not So Tangled Fiction or Loosely Tangled Fiction. Okay, okay, in any case, it's up and here's a preview.
PROPHET
This is my curse: I will tell you your future, but you won’t believe me.
***
My apartment was tiny, which was why the trainer’s sharp knock sounded like a volcano erupting through my front door.
He was short and round and gruff, and he made no attempts at polite introductions. “You’re that prophet chick, yeah?” His voice was no surprise, shattered and coarse.
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