I made it. Yay! I just topped 40,000 words on my new YA Dystopian novel. I made the goal a few weeks ago to get that many words typed before WorldCON (which starts in the morning). I didn't think I could pull it off, but it happened. Again, Yay!
Here are some of the last words I typed:
Ten yards. More bullets. Five yards, she jumped over a log. Three yards. A figure rose up before her, gun trained on her head.
Exciting, no?
Ninja-wannabe took a blow tonight. Sensei and I were attempting to wrangle the little kid's class. We split them in half in order to do a kicking drill. I got the taller kids (which is strange, because I'm usually in the Fun Size group myself) and Sensei got the shorties. One of the shorter kids said, rather loudly, “Oh good, we get the real Sensei.”
What?
I'm not real?
Why hasn't anyone told me this before?
I can take it. I won't cry . . . much.
So here is the topic: Imaginary Sensei's—discuss.
Wait, Imaginary Sensei going to WorldCON on a secret ninja mission to . . .
1 comment:
"I may not be a "real" sensei according to you, but I still have a black belt and can kill a man with this thumb!"
That or bribe the "real" sensei to let you take him down hard in front of them.
Or single that grunt out next time and make him do some serious workout.
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