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He Who Wins Shall Be the Conqueror

The laurels are not mine: there shall be no triumph, no confetti, no preseerves... Despite my sterlingest efforts (4100 words! In three hours! In a sixteenth century castle!), I am defeated. Oi, moi, woe is me, alack comma alas...
desperance, sir, I bow beneath your chariot wheels. Name your cake!

In other news, at least the eternal emo book is finished. Yay. Now I can think about something else, though no doubt it will now need re-writing. The sun is shining, we are surrounded by early modern splendour and I am on holiday with only one skirt. (Long velevet and lace and so on burgundy.) The marquis scents castles ahead and is growing restive... I must away. Be good out there.

Off again

Well, we are once more off on our travels, this time to Dartmoor to look at castles. I'll have intermittent online access, but no email -- I'll check on this post in case anyone really desparately needs to talk to me.
And I will be working on the deathrace</b, oh yes. The marquis may snore and the castles may call, but I Will Not Be Defeated! Well, not by much, anyway.

The daily metrics

New words: 1707. I'm still trailing [Unknown LJ tag] by some way. D*mn his industry! On the other ahnd, this is the penultimate chapter, and the last one will be short.
First line of the day: In Lienye’s courtyard, the clepsydra stood squat and silent.

Swordfight! Swordfight! Aude is saved by bees and Jehan.

Things I don't know: what the twins are up to.

Skirt of the day: black flouncey.

Sabotage?

So far today another 1000 words added. There will be more later. I took a mid-afternoon break to take Ish to the vet yet again. This time, he has an abscess in his ear, caused by a bite. Once more with the huge bills, the antibiotics and the cross cat who is being kept inside. He seems quite happy, apart from not being allowed out. The ear doesn't seem to be hurting him, judgin by the way that he has been butting me with that side of his head.
I am still very Ded and underslept, as the marquis spent most of last night snoring veyr loudly. I suspect sabotage. (Glares suspiciously towards t'North).

Ded again

I am dedder than a ded thing, though I did have a lovely afternoon helping anef look at kittens. (Three! Two tabby boys and a little black and white girl, all very sweet, all quite shy but happy to play once they had got to sniff and inspect us.) Writing is right down today. I know what happens, but the fingers aren't cooperating. Horus is helping by sitting on my knee purring and head butting my hands as I type. I will make it up tomorrow, I swear. After all, I have desperance to beat.
For Honour, Queen and France!

Tags:

Avanti: Deathrace continues.

New words added today: 2090.
First line written: Qiaqia was in a hurry.
Bees! Bees! And Lienye is confused. Jehan isn't.

Running total: 149,477. This book is too long. Who knew I had that much of it? I keep worrying that it's skimpy. Of course, it may be both.
Skirt of the day: denim. How dull am I?

Next job: feed Horus, then contemplate the ironing.

Metricity

New words today: 1279.
First line of the day: He had to tread carefully to avoid them, to avoid spilling his burden.

Endgame is in place....

desperance, running total is now 147,387, and I'm guessing another chapter and a half to go.

Skirt of the day: green cord.
Thought of the day: just because you agree with someone, it doesn't necessarily mean you, or they, are right. This is a propos of nothing in particular, it just drifted into my head this morning.

Death race 2009

Grass King has entered the final straight, and desperance has challenged me to a race to the finish.
I'm going in. Please send crisps (chips, for those of you speaking US English).

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