I am so easily distracted, it isn't funny. I'm working from project to project to project all the time - I'm notorious for it - but this time I think it's justified. Just kidding. I always think that.
Machine of Death is coming out with a second anthology. If you haven't read the first one, I highly recommend it. It has stories and artwork by some of your favorite web cartoonists, all generated around a simple theme - there's a machine that can tell you how you'll die. I know, right? Doesn't that make you want to abandon whatever you're working for for a while? Added to that, you can submit up to three stories. Insult to injury! Not only are you going to make me slow working on my novel (still editing, don't worry), but you're going to open your contest to three stories per person? Sign me up! I'll write you 100 stories! I'll write you as novel! Just sign me up!
Whew. Got a little excited there. In other news, editing is slow, and I'm still trying to find that sweet spot of figuring out what the hell I'm doing. I think I'm getting closer, though. I started with a mess of novel, and I've got some pretty big changes in mind that require re-tweaking of the plot and moving some scenes around. I think that's supposed to be a good sign.
As a little bonus today, I'll even throw in what I have written so far for my first story - only the first paragraph or so. If anyone reads this far, consider letting me know what you think.
It was the largest hospital room Brian Kepler, senior reporter for the Galveston Times, had ever been in. Even bigger than the one the last guy had been in. What had his name been? Williams? Rayes? Couldn't even keep 'em straight anymore. He nodded to his cameraman, across the room, and saw a familiar face. It was a junior reporter he had worked with on the last Deathwatch. Had gotten himself a promotion, too, from the look of it. Good for him. Brian sighed. Gonna be a long night. He hardly glanced at the thin form lying on the bed in the middle of the room, barely gave a thought to the camera pointing at the dying man, whose every breath was being monitored and broadcast on televisions worldwide.