I’ve been typing up LASER.
And honestly, it’s been enjoyable. My story is improving even in the transition from page to screen. And that’s an awesome feeling.
And an even more awesome feeling is getting chapter by chapter feedback. I have an alpha who reads each chapter as I get it typed. And then she begs me for the next chapter. That helps me stay motivated. (Which is odd… I can’t write a first draft if I tell anyone about it, but I have trouble typing it up without a reader. Hmm…)
And I have discovered that having an alpha-alpha reader really does help me have momentum and type faster.
Now… she’s the only one who has been getting pieces of LASER (besides Mom, who has a printed copy but also has yet to give feedback). And since you have been hearing about LASER for months now and tolerating it…
Who wants snippets?
She couldn’t help the snorting giggle that erupted. “Riley, you can’t speak French and you’re taking Spanish.” Isabella said. “How is that going to help me?”
“Oh, not me!” Riley laughed. She looked around the auditorium and then pointed down two rows to a boy beside Stephen. “Him.”
Isabella squinted. “What does Nick Elliot have to do with my French grades?”
“He speaks French fluently, Isabella! And he just transferred into our apprentice group! It’s perfect! I’m sure he’d help you out!”
Isabella glanced at Nick again. He and her brother were laughing about something. Nick’s close-cropped hair—was it brown or blond?—his t-shirt instead of a school uniform—how was he going to find time to change clothes before school?—he didn’t seem like the sort of boy who could speak fluent French. He looked like an ordinary teenage boy, the kind that had never heard of Les Misérables, much less how to correctly pronounce it. Of course, Isabella couldn’t correctly pronounce it, either, but at least she knew what it was.
“Red Riding Hood?”
The girl turned to Isabella. “That’s my name, don’t wear it out.” Underneath her red cape, she was dressed entirely in black. Her nails were painted black and her eye makeup was black. Even her lipstick was black.
“I was wondering if I could talk to you about… well, your story.” She hadn’t expected to be nervous. But it really was odd to go up to someone and ask if you could discuss her grandma being eaten by a wolf.
Isabella raised her pistol and fire again, this time hitting the bull’s-eye and keeping her balance. No one interfered, not even Mr. Carp. They were smart enough to know this was a challenge of pride. Isabella turned to Nick. “Fire at will.”
Nick calmly lifted his pistol and aimed. “Lucky for Will, he isn’t here.” He pulled the trigger.
The infirmary took up about half of the very large basement. The labs took up another part of it and the final part was “The Kennel”. It had another, less terrifying name, but none of the apprentices really knew what it was. It was a place where dangerous creatures were kept. They were needed so that the lab could make serum and antidotes. The occupants of The Kennel were said to be insane or murderous. Isabella didn’t linger near The Kennel. No one in their right mind did.