It’s nine thirty in the morning.
That’s already a couple hours before I’m usually up.
And I’ve been up for a couple hours already.
None of my friends are conscious, of course, because they are marginally more sane than I am. Or if they ARE conscious, it’s because they have something to do.
Combine my early hour of rising with my early time of going to bed. And by early of course I mean two o’clock in the morning. Throw in the fact that I’m on my second cup of tea. The result is a very bored, philosophical Wordsmith.
So anyways, last night I discovered my only complete manuscript was gone.
The one I did for NaNoWriMo last year. It was an utter train-wreck anyways, but that’s beside the point. Fifty-thousand words of raw material, gone. Poof. It was horrendous. I was catatonic at one point. Hysterical at another.
But as I was contemplating this occurrence, a marvelous idea came to me. One that would answer most of the questions I hadn’t been able to answer and solve the plodding-ness and add an element of uniqueness to my story that I found very appealing.
So I added another plotline and stayed up until two to brainstorm it and come up with a general outline (and then to be on Tumblr for an hour, but that’s beside the point).
I haven’t written it yet, so this will be my very first, brand-new attempt at this story arc.
Nikki [needs a last name] sipped her coffee, grimacing when she realized it had gone cold. “What am I doing again?”
“An investigative report on the experimental drug meant to immunize people from radiation poisoning,” Andrew said patiently for the seventeenth time.
“That doesn’t seem like something the public would be terribly interested in. Nuclear threats are so… late 20th early 21st century.”
“With the Pakistani government overthrown and a potentially unstable dictator in control of their nuclear weapons, it is.”
“Oh. Right,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“But before then you need to go home and catch a few hours of sleep. You’re hardly functioning right now,” he told her. She couldn’t disagree with him.
“Okay, I’ll start digging tomorrow,” she promised, “How soon do they want the story?”
“As soon as you have it.”
Nikki went home with the full intention of sleeping, but found once she was in bed she was restless. She was a natural night owl, and had stayed up through the previous night before getting called in for an emergency meeting that didn’t even pertain to her.
She was still pissed about that, and exhausted, but the kind of exhausted where she couldn’t possibly sleep. She’d caught her second wind. And then her third. She was on either her third or fourth, she’d lost track by noon.
So instead of sleeping, like she’d promised Drew, she started researching. Her ID would allow her access to most databases, and for those it wouldn’t allow, she had a different ID, an anonymous one. It wasn’t strictly speaking legal, but her editor turned a blind eye to it because she was good at what she did and didn’t get caught.
And I’m going to leave you with that because I can’t seem to figure out how I want this to work. This was short. I don’t know if I should apologize or say you’re welcome. So goodbye.