For The Win

Sweeeet.

Grrr Buzzword, Grrr docs.google

I had a major fight with Buzzword last night wherein it informed that it could not save three minutes worth of furious typing and in my juggling to trying to rectify the half page or so it had just eaten it ended up removing all my indentation for some very, very odd reason.

However, jumping to docs.google is no longer an option as the text is now larger than the 512MB limit that it allows. I don't know if that means that the markup is denser off Buzzword or what - but it means it would have to be two documents instead of one, which with 8K left that's too much pain in the ass.

I love the concept of online editors for all the benefits they offer like author sharing, shifting computers, etc. But if they can't get around a few basics like not eating text and size limits (Wonderful in this mode is like 120 pages, which granted is probably longer than many documents is by no means a record setter).

In NaNo specific news, I wrote just over 7,000 words upon my return from Thanksgiving. I think I have just enough story to cover the spread to 50,000 and hopefully will be finished on Wednesday.

Broken Reflection

In the movie this would be about the time when the young girl would possibly throw her purse at them and then they would try and get away as quickly as possible. There would be no blood, knife wounds or tearing of clothes. Moe had been a cop for some time and he knew which version of the story was most likely to play out.


He half leapt, half fell, off the top of building - not unlike someone casually diving feet first into a pool. His instinct was perfectly balanced - he landed with a resounding thud in between the girl and the pair. The girl, already on the border of completely losing it, screamed. She was wearing nice jeans, a sweater and carrying a backpack. Probably a college student who thought the neighborhood offered cheap rent.


Moe stood straight and glared at the pair of assailants. They were like a broken reflection of her- dirty jeans, old sneakers and hoodie sweatshirts. They did not scream but stopped their sudden charge and held their ground.


"Just run," Moses said.


The one on the left was taking this as sound advice when the one on the right pulled out a streetlight special - a Glock he probably bought for about a carton of cigarettes - and pointed it at Moses. Moe the Boy raised an eyebrow - honestly unsure as to what was going happen next. His hand instictively dropped to his sidearm which wasn't actually there when the kid let off a shot. The crack rang through the alleyway and the girl started crying behind Moses.


He felt slight pinch and heard the jingle of metal. He looked down to see a small rip in his shirt and his skin showing the signs of becoming an irritated form of red. The shell was stilling bouncing off the ground. He had been paintballing once with some guys from the department. That hurt worse than this had.

I'm once caught up - but hopefully I'll get ahead some tonight. Thanksgiving promises to put behind at least two days instantly, so I'll want some padding there. I've generally tried to finish NaNo the weekend before the end of the month, but this time it might be close.

A note to anyone who might actually be reading the "novel in progess" with the link in the right. For one thing, I know there's contradictions and I mispell a few characters consistently. That latter part is just kind of a toy a keep playing with since I never really decided what that character's name is.

Also, this is the first year I've been going back and adding scenes that weren't previously there. For instance, I just added a bit about Josephine which occurs as Moe is going through his first round of testing, labelled oddly "2B Josephine gets a visitor".

Honestly, it's a work in progress of a rough draft of a notion - so it's so ragged it could cut is what I'm saying.

Undo Repurcussions

"Ma'am," he said nervous with a hint of some sort of European accent, "might you be Agent Morrison?"


She eyed him suspiciously, "I might."


"Look," he said slowly, "this is going to seem a bit odd. I would like to myself clear. An associate of mine would like to request that you take a brief ride with him."


"Oh you must be kidding," Sarah said, "and honestly I'm not in the mood."


"I assure you, ma'am, this is not joke. But it is just a request."


"You mean a request?"


"Yeah."


"Like an actual request."


"Absolutely ma'am. Just a request. There will be no undo repercussions to yourself, your family or friends, if you don't comply."


Sarah paused, "You know I'm rather inclined to just shoot you right now. I'm pretty certain I could get away with it."

Woot! 25K!

I'm Tall?

"Oh no," said a slight drawl, "this will simply not do."


Karl rotated his head towards the stairwell and pointed his key upward like a flashlight, "Sorry?"


The man who stepped from the shadow of the next floor flight was tall and thin, nearly gaunt. His hair was slick black. He was wearing a tight black suit and a tie and shoes that matched. His posture was immaculate. With one hand he unbuttoned the remaining two buttons on his jacket.


"No sport in this ahtall."


"I'm tall?" Karl asked.


"You're dull," came the response.

Rounding the 23K mark. I'm keeping pace and as I think I actually completely forget I had a scene in mind - the half way mark is in sight. Now I'm mostly worried about running out of story somewhere after 26K...

Cacophony

She pulled the two doors wide before feeling the wind suddenly pick up behind her. She lunged to the left, hoping to make it past the sidewalk on into the grass but failed. As pain flooded her shoulder and elbow she watched the rushing behemoth smash into the back of the van. It crumpled like paper with a dull and prolonged roar. The back of the van raised feet of the floor until the entire vehicle became aloft with the tail flipping over end. It became airborne for seconds and landed on its roof. A cacophony of shattered glass and the dying whines of electrical equipment filled the air. A human moan followed.


The man stood upright and examined his work. He grinned widely and then turned to Sarah.


"Hello again, Agent Morrison," he said. The scent of embers filled her nostrils.

Don't call it a comeback. Well, OK, it's a comeback. I was a week behind, pacewise, yesterday. Today:

Current word count: 20023 (40.05 %) with 19 days left, with current pace, expected to finish in 19 days.

Wootness.

Golden Egg

"Golden egg," he said.


"Yeah," Moe agreed, "that's what I thought."


"Is that some kind of odd cop lingo?" Sarah asked.


Karl smirked, "Two guys are talking about birds and stuff. One guy says to the other - golden gooses are real. The other guy says, no way. Golden gooses are fable. Don't exist. First guy reaches into his pocket and pulls out a golden egg. Second guy says - don't mean there's a golden goose. First agrees but says sure, but where did I get the egg from?"


Sarah looked blankly, "that's like the worst punch line ever."


"Not a joke," Moe said, "it's a concept of evidence."


"Sorry?"


"We can't prove any Faracil was stolen," Karl continued, "But we know something really, really odd happened to Moe here. He's the golden egg."


"Except Walther," Moe said, "didn't seem to see it that way."


"So he didn't really ask where the golden goose was," Sarah said.


"Right," Moe said, "he was saying there was no golden egg. And the only people who aren't interested in the question."


"Are the people," Karl finished, "who already know the answer."


"Plus no vinegar," Sarah added.


"OK," Karl said, "I thought the golden egg bit was an odd duck."

Hard push today, after getting bogged back down with some work stuff. I was 4,000 words behind and am now 300 - but I feel like I'm writing myself into a corner so it's probably best to stop and watch a little Robot Chicken.