Ah, yes. The final post mortem of the year, a place where girls are girls, men are girls, women are girls and girls, girls, girls. Rats, well, rats are still rats.
What the hell am I talking about? Right, the story.
I'd forgotten how much fun the clone stories are to write. It's an interesting setting, although this one doesn't have quite as much world building as usual (although it does have some, in between the cracks). They inhabit a spot that's 50% Conan the Barbarian and 50% Office Space.
One of the things which always strikes me about writing them is that I never really get stuck or slow down. They come on like an attack of dysentery. I sit down and come to about five thousand words later wondering just what the hell happened. I'm often a little surprised when I go back and read what I just banged out.
The only times writing slows is when I force the plot somewhere it doesn't want to. It's almost like Bo is sitting next to me, telling me about his life. In this one, I really had no idea how he was going to get out of the trap, even though Bo told me on the first page. The rat, I thought, was just there as scenery to torment him. Nope. Not at all, apparently.
I think it helps that each of these stories tend to be rather simple. They mostly fall into the 3 Act Lester Dent formula and conflict is pretty much a leads into b, b leads into c sort of deal. There's not much in the way of complicated interplay. Mysteries wouldn't work well, anyway, because clones tend not to be very imaginative. They'd rather beat asses rather than solve crimes.
And it's a cliffhanger, to boot. I wasn't expecting that, but I decided at the last moment I wanted it to lead into the McClown uprising metaplot which I'd been planning a while.
And yes, even though it's the end of the 52 week challenge, I'm not abandoning any of the serial stories I'm writing. I probably won't write them on any specific schedule, though.