To post or not to post, that is the question.
I’ve been struggling with the idea of putting some of my unfinished work out on this blog to give folks the opportunity to see what I’ve been working on for over a year. Even after creating this blog, where I’ve exposed my britches so to speak, I’m still nervous about dropping anything online. The work is completely unpolished, raw and naked (that sounds strangely appealing to me), nowhere near ready to release, yet I find myself considering the idea.
Why not? With chapter 9 completed and the first section of chapter 10 done, I’m inching closer to completing the first draft and itching to show what I’ve done thus far, if only just a bit of it.
Hmmm, after writing raw and naked, 'itching' doesn’t seem like a good word to include anywhere else in the post.
So in the spirit of sharing, trust and personal curiosity, I’ve added an excerpt from Chapter 7 of my work in progress. Enjoy!
Please note, some of this is graphic and littered with foul language. If that is something you may find offensive, please refrain from reading below.
I know you probably have no idea what any of that was about, but it’s kind of liberating for me to show something of the work I’ve been hiding away from prying eyes for over a year.“Did you know that last night I received a death threat?” I ask as I place the crisp white note that was slipped under my door on the dashboard of the UDV. He certainly picked the perfect night to not show up at my door for tea and a chat.“Well good morning to you as well Joseph,” David frowns as he picks up the note, reads it quickly and hands it back to me. “And no I didn’t."Glaring at David, I crumble the note up and toss it outside of the UDV and onto the concrete walkway of the garage as we drive towards the exit. I’m not angry at him in particular. I’m just, angry. Though I should probably stop scowling at him, he did nothing wrong. “What am I suppose to do now?”“What do you mean what are you suppose to do? Like other than your job?"“What I mean is what am I, a level 8, going to do if whoever killed Carl comes for me next?”“What, are you afraid?” he says with confused look etched on his face.“Hell yeah! What if this was from another operative, who's probably a level 10 by the way-”“Without a doubt-”“Then I'm screwed.” Wait, what do you mean without a doubt? “Without a doubt?“”If it‘s an operative in Westwood, it‘s going to a level 10 operative. The only lower level operative here, is you,” he shrugs.Leaning my head back, I close my eyes. This getting worse every day. ”Great, just fuckin‘ great.”“Sounds like you're surrendering. You’re not surrendering are you?” he asks turning out of the garage.Am I? No, I'm not, but I don't want to end up like Carl. I don't an investigation folder showing pictures of me alone, laid on the ground with brain leaking from my broken skull. “No, I'm not going to surrender of course, but I also don't want to get killed.”“You won't get killed," he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Do you think anyone would actually attack you while I'm around?”“Well you won't always be near me to save my ass.”Shaking his head, David quickly turns to me and back to the road. “Look kid, even though most of the Northerners here aren’t aware that I’m a Fallen, they do know that I’m the most powerful level 10 they’ve ever met. They’re not so foolish to think that it’s possible for them to attack you without me stopping them. You’re not Carl. Some days, I’ve wondered if Carl was actually Carl. In any case, I think they’re just trying to scare you into a state of inaction. They want you to run away and hide, to stop doing what’s right. Don't let them do that," he commands without hesitation. Looking out of the driver side window, he offers a nod and smile to an older Keynosian gentleman waiting the light to change. With a quick elbow shove, he leans a bit towards me. "It's just you and I in this area anyway. How often have you actually run into any other operatives since you've been in this section of Westwood?” he says turning quickly to look at me again as he drives.Not a one. I glance out of the passenger window like I’m checking to see if one’s standing on the corner. “Never.”“Exactly. And if it weren't just a scare tactic and someone approached you while I was somehow not close enough to help, then what?”“I'll have to fight.”“You’re just as strong as any level 10 and your healing is just as good if going by what we’ve recently seen of it. So really, there is nothing for you to be afraid of... well, other than dying of course.”“That sounds like something I should be worried about.”
I wonder if I’ll be so concerned after I’ve polished it, had it reviewed and polished it some more then before finally hitting the button to launch?