Lazy Dog and the Call of the Keyboard
I’ve been told this is normal for Weimaraner dogs.
The question, “Are you going to write another book?” is coming my way more frequently these days. The answer is yes. I’m already working on it. In between the lengthy, not-so-vigorous afternoon dog walks, I’ve already committed about 30,000 of the expected 100,000 words to memory (The computer’s memory, not mine.) For comparison, Regard for the Dead is 72,000 words. So, it’s coming along as fast as Grace will allow.
The story picks up where the first book left off, and because this book uses the same characters, plus a few new ones, I am jumping right into the action. I’m incorporating some lessons learned from the Regard for the Dead. The big one is clarifying who is speaking in the dialog. I’m anxious to hear what my trusty test readers have to say about it. Here’s a tiny tease from Chapter 15 of the first draft…
15
Friday, September 28
12:06 a.m.
Silhouetted by the pale yellow glare of sodium vapor flood lights, a small cat silently trotted across the deserted supermarket parking lot. It slipped underneath the lone white vehicle and crouched near the left rear wheel. Ignoring the lights and chime sounds emanating from inside the Jeep, it watched the motionless human on the pavement nearby. The tail flicked twice before the feline crept around the curled up shape, its nose pitched up and down, sniffing the body. Then it turned its attention to the head, and licked at the blood smears near an oozing wound. After several laps of the tongue, the human form moved, slow rolling from its side to its back. The cat leapt away, returning to the cover of the vehicle, where it sat down to watch.
Kevin groaned and continued the roll from his back onto his other side. He cradled the back of his head, and slowly pushed himself to a seated position with his uninjured arm. Patting his neck and head, then looking himself over, the parking lot flood lights revealed blood on his hands and arms. “Son of a bitch,” issued from his lips. Looking towards the Jeep, he startled at the sight of a cat staring back at him. It was mostly black, with a white face and mittens. It had a black nose and a thin streak down the left side of its muzzle like a Prussian dueling scar.
“You came for me, didn’t you,” he growled. “Well, screw that. You’re not getting me that easy.” Collecting his legs and feet under himself, Kevin slowly stood up and staggered to the Jeep. He mumbled to the cat, “I guess this wasn’t a complete waste, now I know what you look like.”