Yesterday I spent a few hours going over SWITCH with a fine-toothed comb, a.k.a. my red pen. Well, it was pink. But whatev. The book’s done but for a few minor tweaks here and there, and a few scenes I feel I need to add to polish it up. But I’m cleaning today, not writing (my house has been sadly neglected!)
This means: piles of laundry, vacuuming, etc. and preparation for upcoming beach vacation. Yay!
I really really want to be done with this book, as in, can’t do another thing to it but send it out for crit, by the time I go to the beach. I don’t want to work while at the beach. I want to read. In fact, I will be reading, since I have, literally, about 30 books I’m taking along and I intend to either read them all (or, if they suck in the first couple chapters, put them aside.)
I’m really looking forward to it!
But I’m also thinking I should finish the edits on SWITCH.
snippet:
It was time for something, more, now. I wasn’t sure how I knew this, just that I did the way I knew each day when I went in to work how to gauge Paul’s mood and keep him focused on work so he didn’t hassle me about the job with Vivian.
What frightens you?
I tapped the pen against the paper, then my lips.
I want to know what makes your palms sweat but gets you hard at the same time. What frightens you because you want it so badly?
It wasn’t a question I’d have been able to answer without a lot of thought, but that was the point. To make him think. I sealed the note in a matching plain envelope and ran it down to the mailboxes. Eric was working another twelve-hour shift and I knew he wouldn’t get home until after I’d gone to bed, but I didn’t want to get up early to deliver it, either.
I went online to pay bills and make some changes to my Connex account. I hadn’t been on it in weeks and had a page of friend requests to approve and friends’ list entries to scroll through. Nothing terribly interesting, since the people I knew from home were still doing what they’d been doing when I left.
Even so, I got sucked into watching a series of “ghost-sighting” videos and “true alien abductions”, and so I was awake when my phone hummed and a new text message came through.
I’m afraid of being owned.
Not of being “pwnd” which was something else altogether.
I sat back, the computer forgotten, my heart thundering in my ears and my mouth tasting something like honey all at once. It was the sweetness of anticipation. Expectation.
He was afraid of being owned.
So that’s exactly what I gave him.
Current Mood:
working
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