Today is the first time of my September challenge that I am writing with alcohol in my system. It’s Saturday night, don’t judge. Thin is, I’m effectually teetotal most of the time. I’m just not a habitual drinker. I think the last time I drank was 3 weeks ago. That’s a short gap for me, sometimes I go months without one. Which means I’m a total lightweight. I can definitely feel the effect of the 500ml of Kopparberg pear I’ve consumed already.
So then. Tonight. I’ve had a look at what I wrote yesterday and crossed out the last sentence (I don’t like to delete things, I put strikethrough on them in case I want to use the phrasing again or want reminding what I changed). At the moment, I’ve got Laik and Fiarra in another discussion, this time an argument about Laik failing to get a trial for Fiarra – and the reasons and results of that. So in this session I’ll wrap that up and move on to the next bit, where Fiarra, left almost alone with her thoughts (the guard barely counts) starts dwelling on the possibility that she’s going to die, and what she wants now, having accepted that. I might, in today’s session, get to Laik’s second visit, but we’ll see. If I do, Fiarra will ask for her to take a message to her friends.
Starting 22:02 (Saturday night, remember? I can be late on Saturdays. I needed extra time after Doctor Who to digest both the episode and also my dinner, which was also late).
Finishing 22:40. 744 words. Tomorrow it will be festival time. In the end, it wasn’t Fiarra asking for messages to be taken to her friends, but Laik offering – and Fiarra refusing, after imagining how it might play out with each of her four friends when Laik came to tell them; two of four imagined scenarios ended in one of Fiarra’s friends attempting to kill Laik, and the other two involved profanities.