#ROW80 Round 1 2014 Check in #17 and a Mid-Week Teaser

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Click to see other participants’ progress reports

Here are the “FAR” goals I established for this round of ROW80:

F-INISHING works in progress by adding >500 weekly new words, net.

A-DDING >1000 weekly new words to works with 10k words or less to them, and

R-EVISING two works for submission (converting one from adult to new adult and editing one based on feedback.) by tackling at least ONE chapter per week.

Here’s what I have done so far this week:

FINISHING:  None.

ADDING:  526 words so far.

REVISING:  None.

I’m okay with my pace. I’m usually more latter half of the week weighted and I’ve at least been putting a few words down each night.

Switching it up some, here’s a weekly meme excerpting some of my “Adding” work:MidWeekTease2

From my WIP, KAOS (Kissing As An Organized Sport), a new adult offering about a bunch of college kids playing KAOS (Killing as an organized sport) with some interesting complications. Chloe is the narrator / protagonist and Jules is her BFF, both of whom are undergraduates. Harry, Fiona, Tim, Drew, New John and Russ are graduate student dorm rats.  All first draft material so…

“Hey Chlo. You and Harry get signed up?” Jules asks.

All eyes swivel my way.

“Yep,” I say propping my feet up on my backpack. “We are armed and deadly.”

“Where’s Harry,” Drew asks.

I cock my head toward the door. “He’s at the cafeteria having coffee with Fiona.”

“What!” Tim and Drew exclaim in unison. New John and Russ pause their game to chorus in next.

“You left him with her?” Drew says springing from the loveseat like I shoved a firecracker up his ass. He paces in front of me. “This is bad, really bad. He was doing so well.”

Tim has already shoved Jules’ feet off his lap and is headed toward the door. “Come on, guys, the GDPCS must act!” New John and Russ push back and draw on their coats and follow Drew and Tim.

“GDPCS?” I ask Jules, my brows hiked high. These guys and their bromance languages…

“No idea. Must be new. I’ve only heard it once before.” She skewers me with a knowing glance. “So…what’s going on with you and Harry?”

I frown. Alright. Maybe I have a little teensy tiny crush on Harry. Microscopic even and only in my whimsical moments. Certainly never anything I ever dreamed of acting upon, but that was mostly because he’d always been with Fiona. The two of them were like fish and chips—British and inseparable. And probably bad for a girl. Oh sure, I might occasionally crave fried food–who doesn’t–and the foreign element gives it extra appeal, but I’ve never really given much thought to actually consuming fish and chips regularly. I’d break out for sure and die ugly and pimpled.

“Absolutely nothing is going on with me and Harry. Why would you even ask me that? I never ask you if anything is going on with you and Tim, yet you or some part of you is always in his lap or the other way around.”

Jules flips her hand at me and shakes her head. “Everyone knows I’m in love with Forrest.”

I sigh because she’s right. Everyone does know this and no one takes her flirting seriously. Well, no one with any sense. Sometimes I wonder about Tim, but then he’ll disappear on a date Friday night and no one will see him until Saturday night when he’ll drag back to the dorm doing the guy’s version of the walk of shame, which is really more of a high five gauntlet. The guys call him the Twenty-Four Hour Man, but no one has ever actually seen him on a date or with a girl. Jules is rarely here on weekends, but when she comes back on Sunday nights she always has that dreamy, been fucked all weekend look on her face and her IQ is fifty points lower than it was on Friday. Tim’s IQ is fifty points higher. No one ever said sex was fair.

KAOS draws heavily from my own collegiate experiences at UNC Chapel Hill, Craige dorm. Writing nostalgically is quite wonderful, even though it’s been a long, long, long time since I was in college.

If you want to read more mid-week teasers, check out the Linky List:

http://www.linkytools.com/basic_linky_include.aspx?id=227467

Thanks to all my visitors and commenters. 🙂

#ROW80 Round 1 2014 Check in #15 and a Mid-Week Teaser

ROW80Logocopy

Click to see other participants’ progress reports

Here are the “FAR” goals I established for this round of ROW80:

F-INISHING works in progress by adding >500 weekly new words, net.

A-DDING >1000 weekly new words to works with 10k words or less to them, and

R-EVISING two works for submission (converting one from adult to new adult and editing one based on feedback.) by tackling at least ONE chapter per week.

Here’s what I have done so far this week:

FINISHING:  690 words.

ADDING:  246 words so far.

REVISING: About a half chapter.

I skipped last Sunday’s checkin–really didn’t have much to say because everything was on hold for the Olympics. But now they are over and I’ve put myself back on pace to achieve my weekly goal. I’m doing okay so far.

Here’s a weekly meme excerpting some of my “finishing” work:MidWeekTease2

From my WIP, Three Dates, a little banter between the heroine and hero. Lucy is a matchmaker for a dating agency who handles the “mismatched irregulars and seconds” and Griffin is her client. Lucy narrates. All first draft material so…

I studied Griffin’s profile as he appeared to be pondering the artwork hanging near our booth. Dark whiskers covered his angular jawline. His hair had a slight cowlick on the right side near his part. I loved men’s necks. They were studies in contrasts, of strength and vulnerability wrapped in the same package.

He turned suddenly. “Do you believe in marriage, Lucy?”

Busted. “I do. But for the right reasons. Making a baby together isn’t the right reason.”

A flicker of melancholy passed over his face. Sympathy for me or was he feeling thwarted in his quest to find a wife and mother for his own future children?

“How old were you when you had Angus?”

“Is that a round about way of asking how old I am?” I winked at him, happy for a tool to erase the soggy-bottomed moodiness threatening to creep in.

“Maybe,” he said with a boyish grin. “You know how old I am. Am I not allowed to know how old you are?”

“I’m thirty.”

“A youngster.”

“Thirty is the new sixteen.”

He laughed and a dimple formed in his left cheek. I’d never noticed it before, but there it was, and instantly he was sixteen too. Why weren’t the women he dated seeing what I was seeing? What was wrong with them? Maybe I was coaching the wrong person?

We ate our ice creams and fought over the check. We ended up going dutch at my near hysterical insistence—I had to at least try to keep some professional distance. Clutching our fortune cookies, we paused near the restaurant’s exit and cracked them open.

“Your charms transcend traditional standards,” he read. “Whatever the hell that means.” With a lift of his chin he indicated for me to read my fortune.

“Like the phoenix, your love waits to be reborn.” I twisted my face contemplating the message.

Griffin held the door open for me, and as I passed, he said softly, “It seems, you hold my fortune in your hands.”

Little known factoid: I put fortune cookies in almost ALL my stories. Just one of my quirks, I guess.

If you want to read more mid-week teasers, check out the Linky List:

http://www.linkytools.com/basic_linky_include.aspx?id=226882

Thanks to all my visitors and commenters. 🙂