So I guess I've been kind of busy. But that doesn't mean I haven't been writing. In fact, I had a great idea for Blood Day while I was on vacation and spent a lot of my time writing and revamping what I'd already written. I think it's an excellent change, and will totally change the tone of the book. So I'll close with a little snippet of the rewrite. I have a lot of work to do, and a bunch of blog posts to write for other blogs, so it's like I never left. Except, of course, time off has me feeling fresh and ready to go.
This is how I lost myself: as quick as I could. Without grace, without music.
It wasn’t something I fell into, this ocean of nothing; I made it happen. I forced myself numb. The opposite of numb was feeling. And feeling was pain. Feeling was remembering.
I became aware. First I realized I was cold, and then I saw that it was night. I was not yet conscious enough to feel the ache in my fingers and toes, but I was vaguely aware that it was there. I could withstand physical pain. I blinked lazily and looked around without moving my heavy head. I was sitting in the street, my back against something warm and rough. With great exertion I craned my neck around and twisted to look. A tree. One of the odd trees that I had seen lately. It looked like it had burst straight out of the middle of the street. Crumbling asphalt littered the ground all around me, sticking into my legs from underneath.
A breeze blew frigid and I remembered to be cold again. I shivered and the tree seemed to do the same. A great shudder shook me from behind and flowers rained down from above. I picked one up and it felt almost liquid in my hand. The petals looked black from where I sat, away from a streetlight that winked in the distance. But then a light shone on me, blinding me until it didn’t. I looked down at my hand and saw that the petals were red. Deep red. Blood red. And so were my hands.