The official blog of author Jean Marie Bauhaus

Tag: work in progress

Edits pile up like leaves

Deliverance of the Damned revisions are well under way (that’s the sequel to Dominion of the Damned,, my Walking Dead meets True Blood post-apocalyptic zombie/vampire mashup, in case you’re new around here). I’ve got six chapters all cleaned up and shipped off to the editor (still a.k.a. my husband).

The good news is that he shouldn’t have a whole lot to do, so his edits shouldn’t take long. The bad news is that there are 36 chapters plus an epilogue (38 if I end up splitting up two extra-lengthy chapters), so at the rate of two chapters a day I’m currently managing, this is going to take a few weeks.

Oh, and thanks to all the rain we keep getting, we keep having to spend all the pretty days like today out in the yard cleaning up the never-ending supply of dead leaves, so that’s slowing things down, too.

all-the-leaves

SO many leaves

I tried to convince Mr. B. that we should just get a leaf blower and blow them all into the woods and be done with it, but he thinks that would just make the fleas and ticks worse by giving them more places to hide and breed, so he’s determined to gather and burn them. At least it’s good exercise and an excuse to spend my days outside.

But one day soon I shall get through these edits, and then I can get busy drafting Desolation of the Damned, which I’ve already begun to sketch out. Wouldn’t it be awesome if I could get this entire trilogy done and published this year? I sure think so.

A Word Count and a Snippet

Today’s count: 550
Total: 67,897

The snippet:

He needed a distraction. He looked around for something to read, but if she had any books, they were apparently still packed in one of the boxes stacked at the other end of the room, and he wasn’t about to dig through them without permission. With a sigh, he hauled himself out of the chair, its cushions so deep they threatened to swallow him. He checked to make sure the baby was still breathing freely, then went out to the porch, leaving the door open behind him so he could hear if Noah ran into trouble.

As he leaned against a post and stared out at the night, his fingers itched to hold a cigarette. It had been a lifetime since he’d last smoked one. The cravings had mostly died along with his humanity. But it had been a comforting habit, even moreso in a time when nobody knew it could be a deadly one, and sometimes he still missed it.

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