Busting Out

As a few of my last posts have attested too, I’ve been in sort of a writing funk. The story I’m writing is good, however, I’m at a crossroads and can’t think my way out of it. Or rather couldn’t. A few days ago that changed when I got to the airport and told myself I have to get through these next few pages. It also help that I took the advice of my previous blog entry a little more to heart than usual. So by the time I sat down at the gate I had the next scene planned, the same scene I wrote and wadded up earlier, and began writing. This time the words came and I only stopped writing when my battery died. It was a good day.

Since then I’ve written a little but more over I’m trying to get down to the nitty-gritty of the story and the climatic ending. This I have to plan for because there are two storylines merging and a third I may introduce (maybe). Anyway, it’s a work in progress. The great thing is I surpassed 40,000 words, so I’m half way there though I only planned this to be a 60-70,000 word book. HA! Shows you how much I know.

Now for the excerpt (unedited):

As Brian shuffles across the parking he counts the five vehicles besides his own and the one the men just arrived in. Five cars means probably twelve people at most within the building, as a slow drizzle of rain starts to fall, but it’s nothing compared to the dark chill which enters his soul as he prepares for dealing death. This is his chance, his reckoning moment in which repetitive training finally takes action. In almost a surreal manner, a calm floods into him even as his senses heighten and his vision gains focus. With each step toward the door, he’s able to pick out individual specks of rain within the mist and hear the subtle pinging of hot metal cooling as he passes by the engine compartment of the large car the three men had climbed out of. In his mind, however, he’s able to absorb it all and dismiss it just as quickly as his feet pick up their pace just enough so his hand is able to grasp the door just before it closes. And as he pulls it open he hears the electrical buzz of the inner door charge allowing the three men, and now himself, into the inner sanctum. He also hears the answer to a question concerning the Americans.

A pleased grin takes hold of him as the one question he had is answered as if it were a gift from the devil himself; the second floor.

Without even slowing, his eyes take in every nuance as the barrel of one of his silenced guns slides under the glass pass-thru for badges and fires twice into the guard’s chest. The distinctive noise causes the three men to turn to him, but Brian’s second gun is already raised and firing. The first and second men get head shots falling them like puppets without strings while the third jerks to the right. Brian corrects his aim and fires twice taking the man in his throat and right eye. As the man collapses, Brian’s into the hallway turning the gun towards the alerted guards. The nearest fails to extract his gun before Brian plugs him in the forehead. The other guard at the far end, however, raises his weapon, but Brian steadily walks forward with both guns raised firing four shots into the man’s chest. As the guard falls forward in death he’s able to fire a lone shot into the hard tile floor.