I'd still like to wear sweats every day and teach English. That would be comfy.
Anyway, I'm at 32.5K with Loathsome. I think there's at least another 20-25K of story, plus at least 5K worth of additions to the first half. I'm not a "write too much and cut" scribbler. I'm an "underwrite and fill in" scribbler. Plenty of reversals, betrayals, and horrors have yet to be written. (Bwahaha...ala Katey)
I snatched the lantern from Olson’s hand. The flame guttered through the broken glass as I swept the light in front of me. Pushing away from the other men, I worked along the side of the bunkhouse until I found the entrance. The door gave with little push, and the air behind me filled with the mutters from the others.
Inside, my light swept across the room, chasing the inky shadows into corners like frightened rodents. I stepped onto the rough floor—dirt, of course, but less packed than either of the stations we’d met on the way. The rest of the building was empty.
“No sign of a soul, living or dead,” Olson said.
Jim knelt with his lantern and studied the scuff marks of others’ boots on the ground. “Been gone for a while. Not a sign of anyone.” He let a small quantity of dirt tumble through his open fingers. “I’d say no one had been here for months.”
Yeah, that's right. They made it upriver (five of the original seven, anyway), only to discover that nobody's home. (cue thunder)