Have a WIP, an EIP, an MS, or a published work you want to share on your blog, eight sentences at a time?
Want to sample other people’s WIPs, EIPs, MSs, or published works, eight sentences at a time?
Be a Weekend Writing Warrior!
________________________
I’m hopping back a bit from last week to just before Clyota meets the lawyer who will defend her in her murder trial, but right after she and Charlie trick the Pressman into eating vegetables by hiding them in chocolate cake, which in retrospect was a potentially dangerous idea—for the Pressman, not in general—and I’m ashamed of myself for exploiting the Pressman’s dietary quirks for a slapstick moment that doesn’t even belong where I put it.
I’m less ashamed of exploiting the receptionist, but she’s making a play for Charlie and clearly deserves what she gets:
“Oh, Citizen Mykota-Regold!” the receptionist said, standing up and smoothing her baby-blue sweater dress. “Counselor Rhys-Hargaty is expecting you.” Her eyes strayed to Charlie. “Please follow me.” She undulated away, and I and my entourage followed.
I snuck a look at Charlie, who appeared to be more interested in the paintings on the walls than in cashmere-upholstered hipwork. Reynard’s lens, though, seemed to be trained at an odd angle.
I snorted, and covered it with a cough as both men looked at me.
Earful of Cider 