Accused of Sympathy

I, uh, may have fallen into a slight hole yesterday and dumped out 9k on Ghost Squad #2. Should really choose a title for this one; so far, it’s just “Klemp’s book.”

I suppose I could title it Duty but that might lock me into D-words for the rest of the series, and I’m not sure I want to go that route. It’s a pleasant problem to have–I honestly never meant Damage to have a sequel, but the editor loved the Squad and wanted their stories, so here we are.

Klemperer’s an interesting character. He’s the Squad’s jokester, always with a wisecrack handy. What nobody realizes (except perhaps Dez) is that the humor covers a deep well of rage, and he uses it to keep himself leashed as well as to get intel. I’m at the point in the book where things have gone very wrong, they’re about to get even worse, and this guy is still cracking jokes left, right, and center.

Most of them don’t get into the book, but I end up giggling while I type anyway.

My wrists are a bit hashed, and I have at least a third of the book still to go. It’s going to be a little longer than my romances usually run in zero draft, mostly because the setup had to be just right so when my heroine’s temper finally snapped it would touch off the right set of tangled consequences.

I might be accused of having sympathy for said heroine, but not really liking her until said temper actually did snap. You can tell a lot about a person–even a fictional one–by how they act when they have finally been pushed past bearing.

Not only that, but I need to get a fellow Ghost Squad member into the mix as soon as possible, which will require yet another ratcheting-up of tension so Klemp makes the decision to call a buddy. That will be today’s work; despite appearances, I have plenty more tension planned for these characters. The heroine thinks it’s as bad as it could get, Klemp knows a little better, but neither of them are prepared for what I’m about to subject them to.

For lo, I am a cruel and vengeful writer-goddess.

I’m not sure, but I might finish a zero draft this week. If that happens I might even have time to get the revisions on a separate duology done before the end of the month, like I originally planned and had a minor breakdown when I realized I might not be able to.

I loathe not being at full productivity. I don’t care if it is a pandemic, I want to work, goddammit.

All of this means my hands and wrists are suffering a bit. Lots of stretching, ibuprofen, and ice in my future, I guess. I’m itching to get back to the work, but I have to walk the dogs and run my own weary corpse before I can get down to it. That’s not entirely bad–I can plan out several details during both, my mind working furiously while my body’s doing something else.

I suppose I’d best get started; the dogs are anxious. The could not care less about the book, all they know is that as soon as I finish my coffee, it’s time for toast, tying Mum’s shoes, and engaging on the daily ramble. They’re furry little anchors to the real world, and I love them for it, even if I am all but vibrating with the desire to get back to the story.

See you around, my beloveds. I hope your Tuesday is as pleasant as I anticipate mine to become.

2 thoughts on “Accused of Sympathy”

  1. My family refers to it as “being in the zone.” I become one with the story. Mentally, it’s a lovely feeling, but there is a physical price. Take good care of those wrists!

    • The wrists are hashed by this point, but a few days away from the keyboard should fix it. Being in a fugue state to finish a story is amazing, it’s a wonderful experience…but dear gods, I need some ibuprofen.

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