I'm now up to 18,000 words, and I'm still pantsing. I outlined the very beginning of the novel, but honestly, I have no idea what's going to happen in the middle. The characters keep surprising me, which I am thankful for, since they won't allow me just to write the main plot. They keep introducing side stories and sub characters, and unsuspected villains... etc.
As far as #WIP500 is concerned, it's going well. I've written at least 500 words every day, including 2,000 yesterday. I know it is only one week in, but I feel like I'm being held accountable by some mythical internet beings (and Cara Michaels).
* * * Rioss Excerpt * * *
Marc’s hair was plastered against his forehead, caked on by a mixture of sweat and a thin layer of grime. He had just showered yesterday. In fact, all of him looked so much more alive yesterday. He had a blush that was spread across his face, tone in his skin, and all of that was gone. One day with the guards had stripped him of anything that made him look alive. He walked up to us, but walked was the wrong word. He limped? His whole body looked rigid, as if he lacked the very essence of movement.
Trixy and I exchanged a glance. Concern welled in her eyes. I didn’t know what to make of it - what had happened to make him look so bad in just one day?
He collapsed in the seat next to me. His body trembled slightly as the air around him turned cold, or was he just that cold?
“What did they do to you?” I said under my breath, as if we were being watched. I tried to ignore the other patients' eyes on us, there were no guards, no orderlies, no reason to be paranoid, but I was. This wasn’t supposed to happen to people - even if people made me feel the way Marc did. Though, sitting next to him now, there was no threat. All of my body stopped being on edge, and I was actually worried about him.
“They wanted me to eat,” Marc said. He flopped his head down on the table and grumbled some more words into the plastic.
Trixy arched an eyebrow at me, “Isn’t that usually supposed to make people feel better?”
Marc coughed, his whole body heaved and shook with it. He used his arms to prop his head up. It looked like it was taking all of his strength just to lift his head off the table. He looked at Trixy with the same sideways smile that he always had. “I told them it wouldn’t work.” His eyes glazed over. He was distant, lost. “That’s not the way I eat. They put an IV in my arm.” He showed us the crook of his elbow, a deep, red and black bruise had spread throughout the area. It looked like a rash from allergies.
“What are you talking about?” I hissed.
He opened his mouth to answer me, but before he could get any words out, black and red bile spewed from his mouth. The bloody liquid spread across the table and leaked in large drips onto the floor.