0955 hours. It is humbling indeed to be tweaking a final
draft of the Chapter Page that was missing words that should have been caught.
Instead, it is an example of being caught up in the concept of the words not
the words themselves. This has been a lifelong problem that will continue to
show, no doubt. I will have to work my way thought these things. At least I
have parentheses around the word (final) as in draft.
This is an example of a curse as well as a
gift of freedom in keeping these works open and out there for a public read. It
is worse for you because you were a teacher of English for thirty-seven years
and you should know better, that’s how you see it. You see yourself here as an
old man who has not learned much of the craft of writing. – Amorella
Each
word is as a brushstroke. I know this. It is not a curse though to be human.
Errors in the blog and books are a momentary embarrassment that pass rather
quickly without the substantial memory and will to hold them intact. I do give
a damn though then let it go.
Post. - Amorella
1358
hours. I finished the drafting for “Pouch 1”. This is challenging. I go though
adding and deleting and adding again while eventually trimming it back into the
700 - 800 word range. The tone seems the most important aspect as I work it
through. Before I go on I need to recheck the chapter as a whole for misplaced
words and/or proofing errors.
Agreed, boy. It is late for lunch, Carol is
finishing drying her hair. Add Pouch 1 and post. – Amorella
***
Diplomatic
Pouch 1 ©2013,rho
Pyl
Williams-Burroughs sits next to her brother and pilot, while they await departure
instructions from Detroit to Burke Lakefront in Cleveland. Pyl
turned excitedly, "Justine, what'd you think of the auto show?"
"I
liked it. I liked the new plug-in hybrids the best."
"I
liked them too. Which ones did you like best, Blakey."
"Right
now, I like the sunny and mild, not bad for a third of the way through January,”
he paused then matter-of-factly remarked, "We are a go on 33."
Justin
leaned forward pushing himself back to sit up straight and adjusting himself to
better observe the instrument needles fluttering as the worn asphalt runway
began to more swiftly disappear beneath the fuselage. ‘We are up,’ rested the
anxiety, ‘now all we have to do is come down.’
An
hour into their flight Blake and Justin were enjoying the meticulous drone of
the Rolls-Royce engine in line with the darker blue above and the gray blue
waters of Lake Erie ten thousand of feet below. Dusk will be around five,
brooded Blake when the tip of the left wing appeared to lightly tap into an
unseen object. “What the hell?” mumbled Blake while settling the plane.
"Was
it a bird?" asked Pyl cautiously.
Justin
interjected, "That sounded like a car tire kicking up a stone."
Blake
picked up the small binoculars for a quick inspection, "There's a crack
near the wing tip light." His puffed lower lip and grumbling demeanor lead
to another round nervous of cabin silence into a satisfactory landing at Burke.
While
Pyl and Blake visually inspected the landing light held fiberglass wingtip of
the parked Cessna more closely Blake observed a minute gray spongy substance
within the slight crack, it was secondary to the fact that the crack appeared
repairable for a lot less money than he had anticipated.
"What
is that gray stuff?" asked Pyl.
After a slide-between-the-fingers pause,
Blake replied, "Probably bled out bird gut."
"Squeeze
me some," ordered Pyl. "I'll have it analyzed. I want to see what
kind of bird it was."
Standing
beside her Justin moaned, "What for? Jeez, Pyl, it’s ground guts.”
Pyl
ignored the comment and politely instructed, “Justin, get me something to put this
in. We were pretty high for it to be a bird."
At
that point a stranger walked up to the wing and began inspecting the damage.
Pyl
asked politely, "May I help you?"
"I
saw you coming in. I am interested in buying an old Cessna P210N like this."
The
woman has such an odd dialect, thought Justin as he picked up a small plastic envelope
for Pyl. Noting the stranger’s dark Mediterranean-like eyes, he first gave Pyl
the envelope and then extended his hand and said, "I'm Justin. This is my
wife, Pyl and that's her brother, Blake, on the stool.” Curiosity got the
better of him, “I’m surprised you just didn’t call it, the Eagle or Silver
Eagle, that’s what people usually say.”
The
female marsupial humanoid quickly gathered herself into a warm smile,
"Hello, I’m Eric."
"That's
your name?" questioned Pyl.
"Yes,"
as she gave her hand to Pyl she caught her error and she added, "My given
name is Erica, and you are Pill?"
Pyl
giggled, "My brother couldn't pronounce my real name so I have been stuck
with P-y-l ever since."
The
humanoid turned slightly and shook Justin's hand, "And you are the
brother?"
"No,
he's my husband,” responded Pyl. “My brother Blake is still inspecting the
damage."
Blake
quibbled business-like, "We think a bird hit the wingtip light. A slight
crack, but it appears repairable."
"I
have a trace of the remains," added Pyl. "I'm going to have it
analyzed to see what kind of bird it was."
A
slight crack, thought the humanlike alien. Ship was considerate. He would have
been more so had he not allowed the touch at all. Interrupting her thoughts she
said, "Well, good luck with making the repair. I assume you are not
interested in selling."
The
stranger quickly lobbied, "Blake, how much would you give for her?"
Pyl
moaned, "Daddy would never want us to sell this plane, Blake. She's
family."
Looking directly into Blake's face with
a renewed confidence to interject a swift end to the matter, she declared,
"Upon a decent inspection and fly about, I’ll give you up three hundred thousand
and not a dime more." The human lookalike concluded with a quick hard
bargaining and masterfully business-like smile.
"Give
me your card. I'll contact you tomorrow," responded Blake with a bit more
politeness than he was accustomed to.
***
Total (final) Chapter One words: 3529
Late
afternoon. You have gone over the GMS for Chapter One and added a ‘Microsoft Word
Chapter Statistics’ document to keep track of the words, sentences, Sentences
per Paragraph, Passive Sentences, Flesch Reading Ease and Flesch-Kincaid
Reading Grade Level. This is to give you a sense of ‘style and tone’ continuity
throughout each chapter. We will not set the final draft chapters in three
chapter orders as before. There will be none even at the conclusion of the
book. This is as close to the final as blog readers are going to get. When the
final draft is ready for publication you will decide what will be the best way
to publish. Post. - Amorella
You
went for a thirty-mile late Sunday afternoon drive into east rural Warren
County country and return. You had snack suppers, watched ABC News, and last
week’s PBS Masterpiece Theatre production of “Silk”. Carol is working on her
iMac and you have perused Chapter Two attempting to come up with a subtitle of
sorts. “Circumstance” popped into mind after reading the four segments. It will
do. – Amorella
2224
hours. Does this mean “Circumstance” is just satisfactory? Is there a better
word for this, please?
You have little confidence in yourself but
there is no reason to grovel, boy. “Control” is a better word but I am pleased
that you came up with one on your own first. Post. – Amorella
I
have a lack of foresight not confidence. If I had a lack of confidence I would
have stopped long ago. This work is made for me to attempt. No one else can write this but me with your help.
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