Jolly Rogering, Union Jacking
I'm so bad at keeping up with this thing. I keep thinking "Oh, I just posted something. That'll hold people." Then I look back at it's been, like, three WEEKS. Where does time go. Ah, that's right, into the sucking blackness of lost opportunities. I forget.
I finished chapter five at work today. I'm nearly a third of the way through my plot summary. Things have slowed down, but I'm still happy with what I've got and where I'm going. The word count is on target. I don't hate it yet. That's an improvement.
I recently finished reading Thirteen by Richard K Morgan. It's called The Black Man in the UK and elsewhere. The book got a couple things going in my head. First off, I wish brits would stop writing about the US. It's clumsy. We're a little more complicated than the red state/blue state thing. Gaiman got it right in American Gods, probably in a way that an American author couldn't because we're so deeply in the culture. Other than that? I like my brits, but write about Europe or something.
The other thing that came up in my head was sex. Not unusual. I'm a fan. But I don't include sex in my writing, like, at all. And this is maybe something where the stereotyping works out, because I'm sure that it has something to do with my upbringing. I'm comfortable with violence, but not the boobies and the dicks. Hell, in chapter two of the current work the POV takes someone to task with a hammer. But sex? Not in the book. I think I'm going to work on that. That should be sufficiently embarrassing to keep me from writing ever again.