Even though it doesn't seem likely at this point that I will write 5500 words a day for the next six days. (Which is basically what I'd have to do to reach 50000 words this year.)
On the up side, I did manage to amuse myself with some of the stuff I've written for the novel this year. Not really horror as such, just some weird shit and random tangents. Not much of a plot, but there it is. I now have some kind of dead demon involved. He says he's an "oneiric cartographer" and calls himself "Abraham Lincoln". Hmm. Having quite the chat with Jules (my main POV character). He can explain the plot to me. Maybe. At least until the next infodump comes along.
Oh god. 5500 words. The first 1000 a day is easy. It's the next 1000, and the next, and the next... Ugh. I used to stay up at night to write, but now the kids go to bed really late and I don't have the stamina to stay awake. I write faster when I chain myself to the keyboard and force myself to do X words before I sleep, but it requires a certain desperation (only works if I really want to finish).
The disembodied voice dropped to a whisper. "Kem-phaos! Blinding Light."
Jules blinked. She noted again the darkness of the room and the drawn shades. "No danger of that in here, I guess?"
"Exactamundo," said the voice. "So I came here, to negotiate a deal between the Hex and the serpent."
Jules stared at the body on the table. "Did the Hex... kill you?"
"They were suspicious," said the voice. "People had already died. The Hex sent their agents on the trail of the infection. And they vanished. So when I turned up in the Sabokan office, the paranoid bastards stuck a sharp chord in my skull and gave me the full slice and dice."
Jules shuddered. "I don't do... wet work..."
"I know," said the voice. "They hired you for your mind. They think you can assimilate the model into your head and /rationalize/ the weather here, take it away from Liz Wagen."
"Yep, that's what the Hex think. But the hiring pool was diddled with before the Hex got their eyes on it. The niska Kauket choose you for something else altogether."
"The what what did what?"
"Yep. There's a word for people like you... it's on the tip of my tongue. If I still had one. Lemme think..."
"Oh yes. 'Bait'. That's the word."
"Bait." Jules shivered, suddenly chilled to the core. "Bait for what?"
"I named it once. Not gonna do it again. Things have ears, you know."
"Walls?" Jules suggested. "And the NSA."
"It's no joke," snapped the voice of "Lincoln".
"No," said Jules, after a moment. "So... they dangle me out there on the end of a hook, and..?"
"It's 'sayonara, Jules Edgerton, nice knowing you'. But it won't even work," said the voice, now edged with frustration. "The thing is too strong. As long as everyone is squabbling like a bunch of spoiled children, the big fish will just get bigger and bigger. It's the waste I can't stand. So many lost already, a list I never wanted to be on."
"No," agreed Jules. "I can see that. So what are you saying? I should hand in my resignation and go look for a new job? How annoying." Jules sighed at the thought. "My mother will kill me. After a million 'I told you so's."
"Nah, I'm not saying that at all."
"No?" Jules brightened.
"If you resign now, it'll be a mindwipe at breakfast and a quiet death at dinner. Tying up loose ends, you understand. And another poor schmuck will be recruited in your place. No. There's no resigning."