Six Sentence Sunday is open to all writers. Just pick a six sentence passage from anything you’ve written—published, unpublished, whatever—and post it on your blog on Sunday.
Registration for the upcoming Sunday list opens the previous Tuesday evening at 5pm CST. More information is here.
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It’s another Six Sentence Sunday, which means yet another six from that novel that appears to be inching out of its drawer . . .
Clyota, having survived the commute and a Staff debriefing has just been granted paid leave until the Press frenzy dies down. As you might expect, the news doesn’t go over well with our resident workaholic:
Without work to keep me busy, what on earth was I going to do? Avoiding the Press wasn’t going to take all my time.
“Ma’am, I have several research projects to complete; couldn’t I simply stay out of the public areas and—”
“Counter-indicated at this time,” said the Human Resources Tactician, taking off her specs to reveal eyes of a normal size. “Normally, I’d deal with this a different way, but considering the Press involvement, and the reaction of certain members of the Staff, separation may be beneficial—and frankly,” she added, replacing the specs, “the rest might do you good. Your workload in the last few months would exhaust three librarians. “
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Previous Installments:
First ♦ Second ♦ Third ♦ Fourth ♦ Fifth ♦ Sixth
Seventh ♦ Eighth ♦ Ninth ♦ Tenth ♦ Eleventh ♦ Twelfth ♦ Thirteenth
Fourteenth ♦ Fifteenth ♦ Sixteenth ♦ Seventeenth
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Earful of Cider 